[01] Naval Battle!

[Kill Town]

Naval Battle!

2 vs. 2 competitive event

Summary: Players will be split up between pirate ship crews, both with ships that are firing upon one another! The goal is to defeat the enemy ship by using the line of cannons along the sides of the ships. Meanwhile, while the intense battle is going on, a large Kraken has appeared in the waters beside them, and there seems to be a storm brewing up! Can you lead your team to victory without being destroyed?

Restrictions:

1.) Only the cannons seem to do any actual damage to enemy ships. Ki and elemental powers from the players are ineffective.

2.) The storm and Kraken make it impossible to fly.

3.) Players are given cutlasses, and can only fight with them.

4.) Magnus has programmed the event so that teleportation has been nullified.

CA is in full effect here, so roleplay it out accordingly. The best writing team will still win.

Opportunity: Yes.

Participants: Alura and Juno vs. Alexander Trafford and Belle

I realize that this might be confusing, and although I'm giving you guys free reign to...pretty much do whatever, feel free to IM or PM me any questions you might have.

[Belle Hibiki]

Belle stood upon the bow of the Maiden's Dream, straight-backed and bedecked in his finest as the elegantly constructed galleon cut across the waves like a blade through water. She was a stout, fast ship, and had served Belle faithfully in his service to the Queen's navy. For over ten years, ever since he was a little boy mopping decks, he had stood upon the decks of many vessels, but none quite so fine and sturdy as the one he mastered now.

He took a deep breath and tasted the tangy, salty air, feeling rejuvenated. The smell reminded him of Central City...

Wait. What was Central City?

There was a moment of pregnant silence, and then three things hit him very quickly. First, was that he was not an officer of the Maiden's Dream, or indeed of any ship. Second, was that he didn't know what a navy was. And third, he had no intention of serving a queen ever - in this life or the next.

Belle looked up towards the foreboding bank of clouds that had gathered in the distance, feeling fingers of wind caressing his face and playing with his hair. A dark shadow of something loomed over his brow, and it was a few seconds before Belle realized what it was.

Reaching up, Belle swept off his tricorn hat, examined it briefly, then tossed it to the deck.

His captor was behind this... Whatever this was. Belle wasn't sure what to call it; illusion, hallucination, dream? All of them seemed true, but none of them seemed adequate. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that he was inside a computer, but the effort was like trying to stretch a tennis ball around a house.

He gave up the futile mental exercise. Although the details of his situation had changed, his overall goal had not: find the man that had planned his attack and defeat him. Until that chance arose, however, it looked like Belle was going to have to play along with whatever game was put in front of him.

Or he would die.

Belle frowned, squinting his eyes towards the horizon. He thought he saw something there, but he couldn't be too sure. If only he could get a closer look...

As if guided by invisible strings, his hand drifted down to his pant leg and extracted a thin, felt-lined case from his pocket that Belle had somehow known would be there. He popped it open, extracted the spyglass snugged inside, extended it, and peered out across the choppy waves.

No mistaking it: there was another ship out there. His eye narrowed, tweaking the lens and trying to get the distant vessel into clearer focus.

A deep peal of thunder trembled the distant sky. The image resolved, and Belle sucked in a breath. Black sails.

There was only kind of ship that flew black sails.

"Pirates," Belle whispered the word like a curse. He turned his head and shouted towards the aftcastle: "Ten degrees to starboard, Mister Lynch."

The swarthy pilot of the galleon nodded and spun the wheel to the right. There was a soft creaking of wood as the Maiden's Dream drifted in the appropriate direction, angling on an intercept course for the dark blob in the distance.

Belle worked his way back from the bow as he re-pocketed his spyglass, wondering how he could have known half of the things he had just spewed. He had never set sail once in his short life, unless he counted the actual Maiden's Dream, which had been more of a mutated zeppelin than anything else. Cog had used words like port and starboard, but Belle had never gotten them straight - until now. Everything was confused.

One thing he knew for sure, though: he had to report this to the captain.

He hopped down the short flight of steps to the poop deck, clomped across it in his heavy boots, opened the door to the aftcastle, bypassed the stairs that led to the lower decks, and made for the door to the captain's quarters.

He rapped three times with his knuckles, waited for a response, then opened the door and glanced inside. A dark shape lay slumped in the plush chair behind the captain's stately desk. "Sir," Belle started to say without thinking, entering the room completely and starting forward, one hand on the pommel of the sheathed cutlass at his hip. "We've just spotted a pirate ship, ten miles distant. I can't be sure at this range, but it seems to match the description of the one that raided port Solsmoth two months ago. I think that we - " He stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes widened"You?!"

Captain Alexander Trafford lifted his head, recognition flickering in his eyes, and straightened in his seat. He appeared to think for a moment, then nodded, as if to himself. "Belle." He met his eyes. "Right?"

Belle was momentarily taken aback. "Yes," he muttered.

The last time he had seen Alexander Trafford had been in the Dante's Abyss coliseum. They had fought each other, and Belle had lost. It had only been a couple of months since that fateful day for the psychokinetic, but for Belle it had been over a year. He barely recognized Trafford, though he remembered his actions all too well.

His jaw tensed. He supposed it was mildly better than being teamed up with Kaden, but not by much. Trafford's conduct during the fight - especially the part where he had tried to kill Birdie as a ploy to get Belle to drop his guard - had earned him several black marks with the half-saiyan. The sting of Belle's anger was, in this rare case, slow to fade, and his normally tempestuous anger had settled down to brood like a thundercloud over that moment.

Trafford stood up. "Let's get this over with," he said, sounding supremely disinterested in the whole affair. Maybe he hadn't heard that his life was on the line.

Maybe he just didn't care.

~+~+~+~+~

Two miles out and closing fast, Belle checked the spyglass again. When he had first checked, all he had been able to make out was black sails. Now that he was closer, however, he could make out more details.

The ship was of an older model, but still dangerous. It he guessed right, it could field nearly the same gun they could, and although its hull looked very dirty, it was obvious that the ship itself was well tended. In fact it seemed modified, outstripping his expectations for speed. Although the Maiden's Dream was slightly faster, it would only be so as long as the storm's winds were on their side.

Again, Belle wondered where all this knowledge was coming from. "Shit," he grunted.

Or at least, that's what he wanted to say. All that came out instead was: "Bollocks."

"Commander," one of the crew came running up to the bow. He spotted Trafford and sprang to a quick salute. "All cannon are armed and ready. What are your orders?"

Belle looked from the man to Trafford, then back again. "Uh," he stalled, his repository of sea knowledge suddenly coming up dry. It was apparently only enough to get him started, but not enough to tell him how to win the game.

The crewman waited. When no answer was forthcoming, he looked hesitantly towards the captain, but Trafford was much more interested in contemplating the cigar that had apparently replaced his ever-present cigarettes.

"It's not the same thing," Trafford growled.

"Let's, uh," Belle wracked his mind for an idea. Sayana had showed him a movie about pirates, once. What had they done, again...?

Then he remembered. "Fire a warning shot across their port side," he ordered, feeling relieved as the man seemed to understand and hurried off to carry out the instructions.

A minute later one of the cannons on the deck boomed, vibrations shuddering through the ship as a dark blur raced into the sky, angling towards the pirate ship.

There was a collective intake of breath, and someone muttered "incompetent." Belle didn't understand, but realized what the problem was a heartbeat later when there was a sharp, sudden crack in the distance. Slowly, the pirate ship began to turn.

"Well," Belle rubbed his head, "I guess we got their attention?"

"Whoopee," Alexander rolled his shoulders.

[Alura]

The first thing that Alura noticed was the ocean. Not the actual sight of the vast waters - that would come later - but the beautiful smell of the salty pool. Her ears perked as the sounds of crashing waves against a structure seemed to attack her senses and catch her attention. For a brief moment, she didn't consider where she was or how she had got there...Alura felt like she was home. The ocean was calling her. The water was so close.

"Incoming! Port Side!"

The sound of screaming above her caused the reptilian to shake out of her daze and take in where she was. After the warning that was shouted, the entire room she was in shook, followed by a loud explosion about ten feet away. The wall of the room blasted inwards, the sound causing her ears. Alura had to actually dive sideways to avoid the wooden planks from the structure that were flying towards her. As she slid along the ground, Alura took a glimpse around the room - very peculiar and familiar at the same time.

It was the inside of a pirate ship. She wasn't sure how she knew that - but there it was. As she stood up, she became aware that her outfit was no longer the typical tank top and pants she was accustomed to wearing. It was now replaced by a black shirt with a tan, torn jacket over it and sporting several skull-patches. Her pants hadn't changed much, just now had pockets and were much more worn then she typically kept them. For some reason, the blue lizard-girl looked like a pirate.

"Hey, you!" Someone called. Alura didn't notice. "Hey, Blue!" The girl finally looked up the stairs she was standing near. Given the sky above the bearded man that was yelling at her, she assumed these stairs led up to the top deck. "They're calling for battle stations! Get up here!" The man then hurried out of view, towards his own station.

Rather then follow him, Alura looked at the hole that had been formed by what she assumed to be a cannon. The lanky girl peeked out of hole in the side of the ship to gaze out at that beautiful ocean. Just beyond the waters was another ship, some smoke pouring out of the top-left, probably from the cannon they had just fired.

She thought about what she could remember. She had been relaxing in the market district on Namek-Sei before being attacked by robots. They must have kidnapped her, because the next thing she recalled was being back at the carnival...well, maybe not the same carnival she had come from on Earth, but it was still pretty familiar. After a lecture about playing a game and surviving, she found herself here, on a pirate ship, in a cabin that had just been blasted with a cannon-ball. The extent of her knowledge of the situation didn't go much farther then that.

The reptile-human hybrid rushed up the stairs, shaken out of her daze and ready to figure out what was happening. The top deck of the ship was in a panic, rushing around to get the cannons ready. Alura did her best to find somebody that was out of place - somebody else who didn't know what to do. It was a struggle, because as far as she could see, the only non-human on the deck was her.

"Man the port-side cannons!" Came a bellowing order from the stairwell nearby. The man, who Alura knew to be the cannon, was holding his cutlass up in the air as he barked out orders. "I'll be damned if we've come this far for the Kraken only to be beat by a bunch of a scallywags! Prepare to fire!"

Alura watched as the pirate crew moved back and forth across the deck, loading the cannons on the port (right) side of the ship with the metal castings, chains, and gun powder. Whatever the captain was planning on doing, it didn't involve the other ship: he wanted them wiped off the face of the ocean.

"You don't look too much like a pirate," someone said behind her. She turned around, the bandana on her head shifting over her gold plate as she had to look down to see the human. "You're one of the players, arn't you?" The black-haired boy asked. "You're not really a pirate."

The lizard-girl was about to answer the stranger when the sound of something fizzling stopped her. She looked to the side to see many of the torches that were used to light the cannons had be lit and were raised up above the black gun-barrels. "FIRE!" Came the order from above, causing both Alura and her new-found companion to duck on instinct.

From the carnival to a pirate ship. As the sounds of the explosive cannons ripped out into the clear sky, Alura thought what to do now that she was in this ridiculous situation. One by one, from forward to aft, the cannons blasted their ammunition at the opposing vessel, starting a war that she wasn't entirely sure they could win.

"We have to get off this ship!" Alura shouted at her companion. "These humans are fucking crazy!"

[Juno]

The taste set in, and within seconds, Juno had rushed from the dining hall to port side, chucking up what little of the sea-faring dinner he’d eaten. He would never think to turn down food under normal circumstances, but even as ravenous as his Saiyan hunger was, there were certain boundaries. He reached for a rag that hung over a nearby cannon and wiped the vomit off his lips with it; when the pirates had said, ‘and really bad eggs,’ they meant it. Those eggs had been utterly horrible.

He tossed the rag over the side of the ship carelessly (who’d want to clean a ship with a vomit-soaked cloth?) and turned, glancing at his crew members with a slightly seasick smile. They were a ragtag group of men, leaning on the rails of the ship and dancing drunkenly around the mast as the sun began to sink down towards the horizon. It wasn’t very efficient, and they weren’t getting all that much done. Juno had never really been a person to stress over the little things, but his tenure on the Black Oyster had been decisively lazier than he liked. He wanted to try and whip them into gear, but he wasn’t the captain, and besides, what could you expect from a horde of pirates?

…hold up. A horde of pirates?

His mind snapped back into focus. He moved to place a hand on his hip but instead found the hilt of a cutlass, which immediately drew his eyes downward. Not only was he sporting a pretty fearsome sword, but he also wore a black pirate officer’s coat, with the traditional white ruffled shirt underneath, though it was slightly stained, making it more tan than white. He had black pants on, as well, the bottom of the legs tucked into his boots.

Overall, he felt like the translation from regular Juno to pirate Juno had gone rather smoothly, however it had gone. He still felt like the same person, and his outfit was basically just the pirate version of his normal clothes. He reached up to his head, however, and instead of nothing, he felt a bandana tied around his head in what had become known in modern day as a ‘do-rag’ style. Obviously that wasn’t what these buccaneers called it, but that was what the modern-day pirate recognized it as. His eyes floated up and he could barely decipher that it was blood red in color.

He glanced around the ship, hearing some drunken pirates yell something about their ‘quarry’—which, for some reason, he recalled. They were chasing after a beast called the kraken, he knew, but he didn’t know how he knew it. He thought for a second, and then suddenly knew what was going on: it was all a part of the game.

His regular consciousness was returning, if ever so slowly, and he remembered where he was and what he was doing. Not two minutes prior to this thought, he knew he had been inside of a carnival, and as if like magic, he had been running to the port side of the ship, hacking up really bad eggs. He thought about, for a second, what had occurred just after he had run into Sage and Ander, and then thought about what the voice over the intercom had said—first, that he figured they could enter a ‘much better game,’ and then the kicker: that they weren’t actually here.

This was all a computer program. Juno knew that somewhere, he was locked in a room, being forced to play this madman’s game. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t like most madmen—he didn’t seem very business-like, not searching for something from his contestants. Rather, at the moment, it seemed as if the weirdo who’d put them all here just wanted some quality entertainment.

Despite the relative harmlessness of his request, Juno felt bitter. Maybe if he’d wanted to play a video game with someone, he should’ve asked nicely. However, he didn’t seem to follow any rules of etiquette—and most of the players, like Juno, weren’t exactly content with seeing the guy that kidnapped them with flying, red-eyed robots walk out of here alive. This was now not just some prison they were trapped in, but it was a reason to do some serious damage to this guy. No matter what, Juno had to play this game and get to the game master—because no matter what, he had to see him dead.

His thoughts on the game, however, were interrupted by the task at hand. “Incoming! Port side!” blared into his ears and he turned around to see a cannonball steadily approaching the ship, just near him. He dove off to the left, and the shot sailed past him, crashing into the boat’s hull and scraping the mast.

“What the hell was that?” Juno screamed, grasping a hold of the stair railing to pull himself up, he quickly retreated to the starboard side and stood behind the mask, peeking out at a little blot on the horizon, which was slowly growing larger and larger. It was a ship—and a very impressive one at that. Its hull cascaded forward beautifully, topped off at the end by a wooden figure of a mermaid. Juno sighed; nothing like beautiful women to inspire some pirates to fight an impossible battle, eh? He stood up on some crates to get a better look, and then saw the words ‘Maiden’s Dream’ painted nicely in an intricate script on the side. A scrawny pirate rushed to him.

“First mate Juno!” the man said, “What are we supposed to do? We’re almost to the Kraken, but we’re being attacked by the Queen’s navy!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up to speed,” Juno answered wearily, and then realized they actually expected him to know what to do. Why don’t they ask the captain? he thought, annoyed, but eventually scrounged up a suitable answer: “Uh, take battle stations!” Without talking back, the pirates scattered across the ship, some climbing the netting and others manning the cannons. A bearded man called down to the lower decks to assume battle positions, and suddenly, a rather beautiful blue-skinned wench came running up to the upper deck.

Juno smirked—she wasn’t a normal pirate.

Several of the officers yelled orders, telling the crew to man the port cannons. Juno watched contentedly as the men began to assume their posts, and leapt off the crates, standing safely behind the mast where the blue-skinned woman couldn’t see him—yet. He stared at her briefly, watching her gaze in awe at the sight, and then moved toward her.

“You don’t look too much like a pirate,” he said, placing an arm on her shoulder, but she recoiled at turned to look at him. “You’re one of the players, aren’t you? You’re not really a pirate.” The lizard-girl blinked, but then the captain leaned over the rail of the ship’s helm and called for the men to fire. The resounding boom was accented by Juno and the blue girl’s bodies hitting the deck, glancing at one another with worried looks on their faces.

“We have to get off this ship!” the girl yelled, and then another cannon shot went off, muffling what the girl said about the ‘crazy humans.’

“I don’t think we have much of a choice! It’s fight or die,” Juno shouted over another cannon shot. “By the way, I’m Juno—”

“Alura—” she introduced herself in the heat of the battle, but Juno didn’t take the time to waste on formalities with her. They didn’t have time to be shaking hands. Alura knew that, as well, continuing, “And what do you mean we don’t have a choice?”

“I dunno if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the thrall of an evil mastermind,” Juno quipped sarcastically, “And this is one of his games. We’ve got to win.”

“Win? You mean take out that other ship?” Alura asked, bewildered, “How the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“Beats me,” Juno smiled, standing. “Avast, me hearties!” he yelled, jumping up on the crates and pulling his cutlass from his sheath. The ship got awkwardly silent for a few seconds as Alura and all of the other crew members glanced at him, confused. The blue reptilian stood and pulled Juno off the boxes.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself,” she told him, but the half-Saiyan scoffed.

“Someone’s got to make a move around here,” he retorted to her, smirking, “And it might as well be us, right?”

“Wrong,” Alura continued to protest.

“Listen,” the onyx-haired halfling said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m betting that there’s something about that ship that we need to exploit, and there’s only one way to find out what that is.” The fortuneteller’s eyes turned to the ship across the way—it was closer now, and the cannon fire back and forth would only become more devastating if something wasn’t done now. “Follow me if you want!” the half-Saiyan cackled. This probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but overall, he felt like it was going to be worth it, in the end. After all, this game didn’t seem too complicated—and he felt like as a pirate, it would be best to go with his gut.

“All hands on deck!” he ordered, “We’re boarding their frickin’ ship! Take no prisoners! Kill all of the overly feminine, powdered-white-wig-wearin’ Queen’s Navy!” The crew rallied at his call, and those who weren’t manning the cannons were quick to snap to his commands; several men grasped a hold of ropes and began to swing across the sea towards the Navy ship; however, a few tentacles quickly whipped out of the water, grabbing a few pirates and pulling them down into the deep. Looks like the Kraken wanted to get in on this fight.

“Craaaap,” Juno muttered, leaping up on the rail and grasping a hold of the rope and preparing to jump, despite his fears of the Kraken eating him alive. He glanced across the ocean between the two ships—a few of the scoundrels from his ship had made it across and were dueling quite handily with the pompous jerks on the other side. He gulped, and looked up to the sky. The formerly white clouds were now a shade of gray, fading into black as a storm came upon the epic ship battle. “Here you go, Juno,” he coached himself, “Follow your guy. Maybe you won’t die. You’ll never know till you try.

He leapt across, swinging his legs wildly to move faster. As he swung he heard a cry from the Navy ship—

“THEY’RE BOARDING! ANYBODY WHO EVEN LOOKS LIKE A DIRTY, BARNACLE-EATING, RUM-DRINKING PIRATE DIES ON SIGHT, IS THAT CLEAR, YOU DIRTY MONGRELS?!”

Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all.

[Alexander Trafford]

Thin spears of setting sunlight shone through the cabin’s numerous windows, slicing across the floor in numerous, uneven bars of illumination. They gave a faint glow to an otherwise dim room. As the ship lifted and dropped over the wave crests, and the angles of the room changed in respect to the sun, the light danced and dipped over the quarter’s various features; there were chests and artifacts, gifts and those sorts of things, littered around the edges of the room. In the center of the cabin was a very large, wooden desk covered with maps, and compasses, and other navigational instruments. Also on the escritoire was a small basket brimming with fresh, green apples.

It was a very peaceful environment; it was so relaxing, in fact, that the man in the three-cornered hat slumped over the desk continued to sleep like a child despite the midday raucous of the crew members outside on the main deck.

The smell of rich mahogany filled the cabin, as if the whole framework of the room, if not simply the elegant desk, had been recently carved from the rich, rot-resisting timber. Another aroma was present as well, and seemed to filter in through the slightly-opened glass-windows; it was a therapeutic and tranquil emanation, although it stung the nostrils a bit at first. It was distinct and yet the now-half-awake man could not put a finger on what the smell was . . .

“Hmmm,” Trafford moaned through his semi-opened mouth, a small pool of saliva was beginning to form on the desktop below. He could taste it, the familiar essence – it danced around on his taste buds. Then, suddenly, he had it; he knew what it was; it was salt water.

His eyes snapped open and, startled, he pushed off the desk and his tall armchair slid backwards and slammed against the wall behind him. Immediately he leapt from the piece of leather furniture. How could he be near salt water? That meant the ocean, or the sea, and all that he could remember was a coffee shop and then . . .

“Robots,” he whispered with widened eyes, searching for his former opponent who would not be found. His right hand shot inside of his jacket and towards his Desert Eagle holsters, but they weren’t there; sliding his hand up towards his cigarettes, he noticed they were absent as well. In fact, he did not even have an inner jacket pocket.

“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath. His eyes darted around the foreign room, and then dropped to his clothes. The first thing he noticed was that they were not his own. From what he could tell, he was wearing a very long, navy blue trench coat of sorts, except that there were no buttons and his outfit was far more official and luxurious than anything he had seen in West City.

Eyeing a mirror in the far corner of the room, he raced over towards it and, in only a moment, he was standing before the full-length oval sheet of reflective glass. Confusion immediately became him; it spread across his features until his demeanor was riddled with it.

Standing within the confines of the mirror was an unfamiliar man. He was adorned in a fine pair of black, buckled shoes that covered a pair of high, white stockings that rose just past his knees. The leggings continued beneath a pair of reasonably loose white trousers that had one too many useless buttons around the knees and too much gold stitching. At his waist was a fine black belt, and tucked beneath that was a white tunic – a fancy one with a similar golden stitch. And, about the overcoat, he had been quite right – it was a large, navy blue captain’s jacket with authoritative golden insignias and large wrist cuffs.

My god, he thought, I look exactly like Commodore Norrington from that Pirates movie . . .

Lastly, a tricorn officer’s hat rested atop his head and, wait, what was that beneath the three-cornered headpiece?

“Oh . . . my . . . god,” Trafford muttered through clenched teeth. A white, powdered wig sat atop of his golden-brown locks. He pulled off the hat, gripped the faux hair between his fingers and hurled it onto the floor, before kicking it into the corner and backing away from it slowly. Alexander stared at it for awhile, his cocked eyes gazed disapprovingly at the thing that had rested atop his beautiful, albeit disheveled, hair.

A knock came hurriedly on the door. It was not so much a single knock, but three knocks that came in rapid succession.

“Christ,” Alex shot towards the door; couldn’t he even have a minute to gather his thoughts? Although, by now he had realized that, in all probability, he was the captain of this ship and, as such, he enjoyed certain privileges – but he also held some important responsibilities. He shook his head and sighed, then dashed across the room, collapsed into his stately armchair and began playing with the compasses in an attempt to create a sense of labor, however fake it might be.

“Sir,” the door slowly creaked open and an officer of some kind stepped inside, although Alexander – no, Captain Trafford – did not raise his head to acknowledge the presence. “We've just spotted a pirate ship, ten miles distant. I can't be sure at this range, but it seems to match the description of the one that raided port Solsmoth two months ago. I think that we -”

The young man slowed, and his speech drawled off into silence. Alex lifted his eyes, just barely, so that he could see who his addresser was. Oh shit, of all people . . .

“You?!”

He slowly raised his head and strained his eyes slightly; he was pretending to try and recognize someone that he already knew – how absurd, but it was paramount that he maintained his stately composure. After all, he was Captain Trafford.

“Belle,” he paused for a moment, feigning concentration, “right?”

“Yes,” his newfound ally muttered, appearing hesitant, if only for a moment. The red-haired upstart seemed tense, if not downright pissed.

“Let’s get this over with,” the captain stated, trying to sound bored and unsurprised by the revelation of his teammate.

Trafford opened his desk and searched around for some sort of tobacco-smoking device. He hoped for cigarettes. Instead he found two things, a box of cigars and a pipe. He snatched both, along with a bag of leaf for the pipe and then headed for the door and exited onto the main deck of the ship – his ship.

~~~*~~~

“They’re boarding! Anybody who even looks like a dirty, barnacle-eating, rum-drinking pirate dies on sight, is that clear, you dirty mongrels?!” One of the navy men screamed as a forward unit of pirates boarded their ship. Trafford shrugged. He didn’t know much about naval battles, but boarding this early seemed amateur – they hadn’t even blasted the hell out of each other yet. What a waste of such neat cannons . . .

The Captain was reclining against the railing on the ship’s far side, putting as much distance between him and the boarding pirates as possible. His temporary comrade, Belle, on the other hand was at the forefront of the battle; his cutlass gleamed against the setting sun, and he waited anxiously for each pirate that swung from the enemy’s deck to his own.

It was not that he was disinterested, per se; he just had no idea what to do. Was the captain supposed to charge in, head first, with his saber brazen in the scorching sun’s reflective light and lead by example? Or should he remain at the rear, perhaps atop the quarter-deck and near the helm, managing the battle.

“I have no idea,” Alex expressed his inner contemplations aloud.

Suddenly he felt a small twitch in the back of his neck, and then in his eye. His brow began to quiver and he could feel his pupils roll into the back of their sockets. A rush swarmed his mind, and a wave of information infiltrated his brain without his consent. It was engaging, it was surreal, it was . . . weird.

And then, in an instant, it was over, and everything was normal. Although, at the same time, nothing was normal. It was strange, but it seemed, without any explanation whatsoever, that he had gained a vast knowledge of sea life.

“That’s odd,” he remarked as he looked about his ship with a newfound perception. He understood everything; the official terminology and the slang, the ranks, and even the layout of the ship was now known to him. It was as if something, or someone, had released age-old information that had been stored in the recesses of his brain, but he could not rationalize how such a thing was possible. There was not much time to think on such things, however, as he had to act; now that he had the knowledge, it made decisions that much easier.

Trafford withdrew his smoking pipe (although he did not know it at the time, the pipe he possessed was a coveted Briar pipe), after already having failed with a cigar, and packed it with the tobacco that was in the bag he had taken from his desk earlier. After a moment he slid the device into the corner of his mouth, and let the ‘bit’ sit between his lips. With a simple wink, the ‘chamber’ lit and he inhaled the sweet tobacco fumes into his lungs.

“Oh, heaven . . .” Alex whispered as he tucked the rest of the leaves into his pocket. Now, with the pipe balanced nicely, his hand slid down towards his elegant saber and to the weapon’s hilt; his long, bony fingers guided themselves beneath the knuckle guard, and rested on the smooth grip. Tightening his hold on the cutlass, the young entertainer took a step forward and pulled the blade from the sheath and held it before him.

“Push them back to their own deck, mates!” Trafford bellowed as he rushed forward, he was surprised at the words that poured from his mouth – it almost sounded like he had some idea as to what he was talking about. “Capture who you can, and kill the rest of these scoundrels!”

As he moved forward his eyes caught the red-headed firebrand. He was parrying a strike from a fancily-dress buccaneer. Belle’s sword caught his opponents and pushed it towards the side, giving the half-saiyan an opportunity that he would not pass up; his knuckles rose fast and collided with the pirate’s cheek bone, sending his foe sprawling across the deck. A random midshipman leapt at the opportunity and immediately detained the outlaw.

Similar happenings occurred across the main deck; only a few pirates had dared to board at the command of some low-level officer, and they were immediately outnumbered by the naval fighting force.

Throughout the skirmish, Alexander had continued to shout orders to his men, directing them with a leadership and a poise that he had not known himself capable of. And all the while he did so with a pipe hanging from the corner of his lips, true to form.

“There!” someone shouted, Trafford thought it to be young Hibiki, but could not be sure, and a cluster of navy men shot their index fingers towards the quarterdeck, an area in the rear of the ship. An onyx haired youth was sprinting across the face of the helm, dodging the desperate grasps of Mister Lynch and making his way towards a dangling rope, one that was attached to a mast on the enemy ship. The mysterious young man, adorned in a crimson bandana, leapt forward and snatched the cable in stride and, in swinging across the widening gap of salty sea water, retreated to the pirate vessel. The battle was over.


“Captain, sir!” a voice erupted from behind Alexander. The captain slowly tilted his head and peered over his shoulder at the man who, according to his rank, was a petty officer aboard the Maiden’s Dream. He nodded, and then the sailor continued.

“All pirates who boarded have been captured, save one, and they have been locked in the brig,” The man spoke formally; his posture was straight as an arrow. Trafford nodded and dismissed the man, who immediately rejoined the crew. They all erupted into a series of glorifying cheers at the expense of the pirates.

~~~*~~~

“Mister Lynch,” the captain spoke as he ascended the short staircase and arrived at the helm, dismissing any salutes and standing beside Belle (who still seemed to be brooding over the partnership. Trafford could only imagine how he felt about being the captain’s subordinate). “Run out the sweeps, heavy on our port side.”

“Captain?” Mister Lynch questioned as he adjusted the wheel.

“Make sure that we move out in front of the enemy vessel, and then we’ll circle around their bow and fire upon them where they cannot fire back . . .”

“Aye captain,” Lynch replied, this time more enthusiastically.

He may have been mistaken, but for a moment, if only for an instant, Alexander could have sworn that he even caught a glint of excitement in Belle’s blue eyes. And then, an instant after the pair made eye contact, Hibiki turned away and made for the main deck.

“All hands on deck! Make ready the guns!” the tempestuous youth bellowed at the men, who were still embraced in celebration.


Trafford stepped to the side and stood atop the short set of stairs that descended to the main deck. He brushed his fingertips against the bowl of his pipe and tapped it twice, before inhaling a large plume of tobacco smoke. He watched with enthusiasm as the men darted to and fro across the ship deck, sprinting up and down the stairs to the lower levels. The men focused on making ready the starboard guns (Earlier, the two ships had been parallel, with the pirate vessel’s port and the navy vessel’s starboard exposed. Now, as they prepared to wheel around the Black Oyster’s bow the two ships would be facing in the opposite direction – they would be starboard to starboard). The remainder of the crew split, some went to the lowest deck and manned the sweeps, while the rest remained topside and eagerly awaited any attempt to board.

The Maiden’s Dream surged forward and began tilting towards its starboard side, rounding the bow of the pirate vessel. As they maneuvered, Trafford looked over the railing into the gap between the two ships and observed that whatever manner of creature had dwelled there previously returned to the depths.

“Very nice,” he remarked to himself beneath his breath, and then he released a short sigh of relief, a sigh that was accompanied by a fist-pump. One opponent was enough of a hassle.


As they began to round the bow of the slower ship, the captain observed the pirates hurriedly dashing around the ship, trying to ready their own starboard guns as the naval vessel approached their exposed sides.

“Fire the six pounders!” Trafford bellowed, and his eyes widened. He, as usual, had no idea what he was talking about. What in the hell was a six pounder?

Of course the rest of the crew knew what he meant, and the gunners rushed towards the few cannons that resided in the center of the ship. The bow of the enemy ship was a small target, so they would only be able to fire four or five cannons as they rounded the Black Oyster’s point, and those several cannons were known to the sailors as ‘the six pounders.’

“I would never have guessed that you knew anything about sailing.” Belle Hibiki spoke at Alex’s side. His arms were crossed and he still did not look too pleased, but his mannerisms seemed to be improving.

“Well, you forgot one thing mate,” he responded to his ‘partner’ and slowly tilted his head, so that their eyes met. An arrogant smirk was plastered across his face. He removed the pipe from his mouth and held it out in front of him as he continued, “I’m Captain Ace Trafford.”

Belle rolled his eyes as Alex winked and replaced the ‘bit’ of the Briar pipe into the corner of his mouth.

[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.

[Juno]

He swung wildly over the water, finally releasing the rope and vaulting onto the Queen’s Navy ship. The half-blooded Saiyan rolled across the pristine wood, straight into the sights of a few soldiers who seemed all too eager to slaughter him. What type of soldiers were they? Wasn’t it usually the policy of the military to capture high-ranking officers before killing them? He remembered, suddenly, that he was not actually in the time of the pirates but rather inside a game, and that whoever their kidnapper was probably didn’t care too much for capture first. This AI was, he supposed, programmed to shoot first and not ask questions.

A couple of other buccaneers followed him onto the ship, but overall, Juno had gotten halfhearted support from his crew; Alura had not followed, and he could barely hear her deafened shouts from across the waters. He’d barely dodged the treacherous tentacle of the Kraken, and now several navy soldiers had rifles and cutlasses trained on him. The reptilian girl had been right; this hadn’t been the best of ideas, he supposed.

What was this game doing to him? Normally, he’d never had been so rash as to be a fool rushing in, rash and with no sense of consequence. Normally, he’d have been so over analytical that a cannonball probably would’ve decapitated him mid-thought. Upon being shoved into this situation, however, all of his intellectual vices had somehow been stripped away, and he had been cast as the brash, risk-taking first mate. No longer, he knew - he had to get his head back in the game. Alura had been right; this mastermind’s game was their concern now, not defeating the Queen’s Navy, although Juno would argue that perhaps in order to win at the man’s game, they had to defeat their opponent.

He would not say, however, that they had to defeat their opponent fair and square.

But that was a thought for another time - he ducked under a cutlass that swept just above his scarlet bandana, and then launched himself onto the portside rail of the Navy ship. Grasping the rope, he quickly yelled out to the soldiers: “Gentleman, you shall always remember this day as the day you almost caught -” and stepped backward, prepared to finish his speech in the air. However, he was caught off guard by the drop and swung clumsily across the sea back over to the Black Oyster. He was not, however, welcomed with open arms as he crashed onto the deck.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Alura scolded in a half-whispered tone, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves; we need to stay down and make sure this battle goes our way from here.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Juno replied, and Alura looked surprised, almost as if she’d expected him to argue. “I shouldn’t have been so rash. Don’t worry, I’ve got that crap under control.” He turned and headed up to the helm, taking his spyglass and looking over at the Queen’s Navy ship. The bronze-haired captain was spouting off orders, and the helmsmen was hurrying quickly to his post.

They were up to something.

Juno headed to the railing of the upper deck and gazed around at the crew, weary from the first failure. He glanced from the lazed pirates to the invigorated Navy, and knew that something had to be done. They had won that skirmish, true, but the battle was still in play. The soldiers were cocky; the pirates had to gain that same confidence if they hoped to defeat them. How, though? The Navy seemed to be making a move, and the fortuneteller was not exactly keen on rushing into something else before seeing what their opponents had in store. As this thought crossed his mind, he smiled. He’d been able to free his mind from the grasp of this game. He had, fortunately, retained his seafaring knowledge.

Then, he spotted it. The helmsmen made a large, wide turn, and the Maiden’s Dream began to move around the helm of the pirate ship. They were attempting to get an advantage, be able to shoot their already loaded port guns while the scallywags were attempting to load their starboard guns. Not this time, though. This time, the pirates would be smart.

“Load the starboard guns, they’re changing positions!” Juno yelled, and he glanced at Alura, who had a brief, flickering smirk. They met eyes quickly, and the Saiyan knew that at that moment, they were in agreement - she was obviously happy that he’d intercepted their next move. “Hurry up you slimy dogs, get those cannons loaded!” The pirates moved quickly, and at Juno’s urging, in a much more organized manner. They weren’t fully prepared for the first volley the Navy ship shot, but the scuffs and scrapes weren’t enough to deter them.

“Ready,” Juno called, “aim - FIRE!” At that word, the pirates followed their orders, firing a rapid succession of shots from the starboard guns, ripping into the side of the enemy ships. Few shots missed, which was a distinct advantage they had over their opponents. While the others were better armed, the pirates rarely missed their mark. The half-Saiyan sidled up to Alura. “Listen,” he said, “If we’re over here, then that means that there must be other contestants over there, right?” Juno had puzzled that together by watching the movement on the opposite ship. The captain wasn’t wearing a powdered wig, and that was distinctly a trait that was shared by most other members on the boat. And then there was the kid who fought like no other soldier on that boat - perhaps that was a strange qualification, but it was a hunch he was willing to go with if it got them farther in this game.

“Yeah, I guess that would be plausible,” Alura nodded, observing the ship. “Are you suggesting that to win this, we’ve got to beat them?”

“Exactly,” the halfblood smirked, “So we’re going to take them down where it hurts, Alura. We’re going to ram our ship into their ship.”

“What did we talk about? No more brash moves, remember?” the reptilian hissed, but Juno merely moved forward, took a match out of his pocket, aimed his cannon at the exceptional warrior who looked to be the ship’s first mate, and fired off a shot. The cannonball sailed into the portside rail of the ship, barely missing its mark. The half-Saiyan watched as the other Halfling who would soon come to be known as Belle Hibiki became tangled, and was suddenly and, the Saiyan thought, fatally, jerked off the side of the ship by a ‘loose cannon.’

“Man overboard,” Juno muttered, turning to Alura. “It’s not brash, trust me. They made their move - if we make ours, if our ship rams into that ship hard enough, it’ll make a such a dent in their morale that they’ll be crying for us to spare their lives. Think about it, babe.”

“First off, don’t call me that,” the reptilian replied.

“I won’t if you’ll just go with the flow,” he smirked, and then turned on his heel and bounded up the helm to where the captain stood. “Permission to take control of the ship, sir?”

The captain turned, a scowl on his face. “After what you did last time?” Juno chose not to respond, keeping a hopeful, sympathetic expression on his face. “What’ve you got up your sleeve, First Mate?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, sir,” Juno said, almost regretting speaking to his commanding officer in such a manner.

The captain paused, but at last gestured to the helm. Juno took the wheel, pushing the normal helmsman out of the way, and made a large turn. The nose of the vessel took a sharp angle, and the men handling the starboard guns paused briefly to look up. The captain screamed at them to fire until they didn’t have a target, and they quickly went back to their duties. Juno, however, merely smiled broadly, spinning the black-sailed ship around in the water until it was directly on course for the Maiden’s Dream.

“What in the name of Calypso are you doing, Juno?” the captain muttered, awestruck, but he did nothing to stop the first mate, who quickly and eagerly watched as the nose of their own boat crashed forcefully into the hull of the enemy, sending planks flying as a terrific hole was ripped into the upper and lower decks of the Queen’s Navy vessel.

The two ships collided magnificently, the black-sailed ship sinking into the wooden hull of the white-sailed, and slowly, the Navy vessel began to lurch to one side, and a few soldiers tumbled overboard in the same manner the young warrior had. A slight growl was emitted from below, but Juno paid no mind to it - the soldiers were, for the most part, running scared.

The Captain, however, had unsheathed his cutlass and now stood on the starboard rail, fully prepared for the eventual arrival of the pirates. Juno leapt onto the rail of the upper deck and unsheathed his cutlass. He looked down at the pirates, a couple of whom lie dead from the impact, and smirked at their uncertainty.

“They run from us, and now we must overtake them before they rise up again - gentlemen, kill all in sight, leave no prisoners!” The scallywags turned and began to charge the soldiers that had been brave enough to stay on the upper deck. Juno leapt down and grasped Alura’s wrist. “Fight the soldiers if you want, but I think it would be more prudent if we found the other guy - the one who the cannon dragged off. It’s up to you.”

The half-Saiyan, meanwhile, leapt over to the pride of the Queen’s Navy and leapt onto their netting, glancing at the captain, who had not yet involved himself in the battle. Slowly, he realized he was being watched, and his eyes rolled over to Juno.

“You’re not really an officer in the Royal Navy, are you?” Juno asked, a smirk on his face. The red-headed man’s eyes lit up, if only slightly.

“Nah,” he muttered, with a chuckle, “And I’m guessing you’re not either. Far too impressive to be a scurvy pirate.” The black-haired boy slipped through the netting and landed down on the non-ruined part of the deck. “Trafford. Ace Trafford, if you want,” the navy man said.

“The name’s Juno,” the black-haired pirate replied, and continued. “Ha. Captain Ace Trafford,” the half-Saiyan chuckled, “It’s got a certain ring to it.”

“Don’t I know it,” the captain of the Queen’s Navy ship replied.

“I guess we’ve got to fight now,” Juno stated, as if it wasn’t obvious that this game was meant to eventually force them into competition. Trafford stepped down from the rail and chuckled before swinging his sword up in a surprise attack that the Foresight user easily predicted. The fortuneteller brought his own blade up to meet Trafford’s, and the other man smiled.

“Impressive,” Ace complimented. Juno chortled a bit, smirking at his opponent before voicing a sarcastic reply.

“Don’t I know it.”

Opportunity: Does Juno take the helm and crash into the other ship?

Yes.

[Alexander Trafford]

Blackened clouds and hastening winds churned ominously above the two intertwined vessels; the pirate ship’s bow had lodged itself nicely into the Maiden’s Dream and the naval frigate had, consequently, spilled over the top rail of the buccaneer brigantine. As the two vessels drove against one another the forward mast of the [I]Black Oyster[I] had broken against the central mast of the Queen’s prized warship, and the two timber posts had become inseparable.

Trafford rolled his eyes and chuckled. Using his free hand he adjusted the pipe that sat in the corner of his mouth and inhaled deeply. The smooth and sweet taste of uncorrupted tobacco glided through his throat and came to rest in his lungs, where he held it for several seconds while his eyes gazed over his opponent. With onyx hair and a crimson bandana his foe maintained the appearance of a pirate – but he was much too skilled. He parried the captain’s cutlass in a manner that suggested incredible quickness and reflexes. Alex was reminded of Belle, and how his temporary ally had seemed to possess the ability to foresee his attacks when they had battled in Dante’s coliseum.

He exhaled a plume of bluish grey smoke; the discharged fumes emerged in thin ribbons that circled amongst one another as they slowly rose and eventually evaporated in the darkened skies.

In hopes that his opponent would not anticipate his next move, he drove his cutlass downwards which, in turn, forced his opponent’s blade in the same direction. Trafford pushed off and moved towards his foe’s now-undefended side. He kicked his leg forward, in an attempt to trip the would-be-pirate, but the onyx haired youth simply jumped over his foot and shin as if it were a rope and he were back in the schoolyard.

“Hmm,” Alex hummed in amusement as he hopped backwards and re-raised his sword. His stance with a weapon was just as awkward as without; he simply had no idea how to engage in proper melee combat. At least he did not try and fake a stance, which would have just looked foolish. Instead, he simply stood normally – his body relaxed and his free limb resting against his side.

“What’d you say your name was?” Captain Trafford questioned his opponent, before tightening his lips around the ‘bit’ of his Briar pipe and inhaling once more. He tried to sound arrogant and sarcastic in an attempt at feigning a sense of over-importance, but, in truth, he honestly forgot the boy’s name.

“It’s Juno,” his foe exclaimed, apparently taken aback by the forgetfulness of the captain.

“Juno, eh?” Alexander paused for a moment, before curling his lips into a smirk and continuing, “Isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“What?! No . . . of course it’s not,” the warrior with onyx hair shouted at first, before lowering his voice and ‘playing it cool.’

“No, I’m serious,” Trafford withdrew the pipe from his mouth to allow the fullness of his devilishly good-looking smile to be displayed, “I saw the movie, about a pregnant chick named Juno.

You . . . you’re not pregnant, are you?”

Ace chuckled before reinserting the smoking device, but his opponent did not; Juno simply tilted his head to the side and smiled as he shook his head, taking the joke in stride. Good for him, the psychokinetic thought, Belle would surely have taken his head off for such a comment.

Speaking of Belle, where the hell did that little upstart go?

He did not have time to think as the faux-pirate lunged at him, the tip of his cutlass ‘leading the charge.’ Alex dashed to the side as Juno moved alongside him and he pushed the onyx haired warrior past him, although he did not pursue his opponent as he stumbled forward.

Instead he held up his blade, not in a threatening manner, he simply raised it in front of his face and admired his reflection in the gleam of its blade.

“Wanna see a trick, Juno?” The Captain questioned, a thin smirk cracked along his lips. This time, however, he did not wait for a reply. Trafford ran his index finger along the side of his saber and, as he did so, a trail of golden energy wrapped itself around the cold steel. As the extremity reached the tip of the blade, he dropped it to his side and admired his handy work. The entire length of the cutlass was now covered in his own essence; the glowing power that acted as a tell-tale symbol of his freakish ability.

Before either of them could speak again the brewing tempest opened up and the first crack of thunder and flash of lightning filled the sky. Everyone paused for a moment before resuming. A few moments after the sky became lit with the storm’s manifested anger, the rains came – and they did not come lightly. Thick, bullet-sized raindrops poured down from the blackness of heaven above.

“En garde?” Trafford mocked as he became soaked under the darkened skies.

[Belle Hibiki]

The shadow pulsed again, growing larger in Belle's field of vision as it approached. He tried to calm his thoughts as he curled down and wrenched at the tangle of rope that had ensnared his foot, but he was finding it very hard concentrate . Come on, he thought, clenching his teeth so hard that they felt like they were going to crack. He silently swore as his fingers slipped. Goddamn it! Come ... on!

The pressure in his ears was building up fast as the light from the surface started to fade. He had to free himself soon.

Lightning flashed again, brighter than before, followed swiftly by a twin. The monster was nearer now, and in the light, Belle realized what it was:

A squid. A giant, angry-red squid the size of a city block. Its swollen, arrow-like head was crusted with barnacles, mussels, and other shells, coating it like a suit of armor.

The water shook, and Belle looked up. Overhead, the two pointed ovals that marked the underside of the two battling ships had wedged together, one end of the pirate's ship jammed against the side of the Maiden's Dream. A fresh hail of debris showered into the sea and was stirred into a whirlwind by the passing of the giant squid, which had turned its mantle downward, ignoring the curiosity above to follow Belle into the depths.

It fanned its tentacles out, swelled, and burst forward.

Belle only had a second to react. Abandoning the knot around his leg, he turned, gathered his energy into his hands, and fired. The blast slapped against the water, pushing Belle out of the way, and the squid's craggy mantle speared through empty water.

It screamed; Belle didn't think that a squid could sound angry, but it did. Its cry, low and yawning, was like the muffled screech of a rusty door. The invisible wall of water thrown up by its passage slammed into Belle and he tumbled backward, arms and legs waving as he tried to catch himself. He stopped his chaotic whirl just in time to see the squid's passing tentacles open up and lash out, snaring something below him that he couldn't see.

The rope tightened.

Son of a - !

Bubbles flew from Belle's mouth as the rope abruptly changed direction and pulled him violently through the water, his body tossing and turning like a can dragged by a car on the freeway. The thickly knotted cords around his foot tightened from a firm grip into a vice, and he felt like his leg was about to be yanked out of its socket - and the sensation only grew worse with every passing second.

The cannon, he realized: the squid must have grabbed it.

Fighting against the current, he forced his head down, reached out, and grabbed his leg. Digging his fingers into his skin, shutting out the pain, he slowly pulled himself forward, sparing a look up at the massive nest of shadowy tentacles into which the other end of the rope had disappeared.

If he didn't take action soon the squid would notice that its prey had suddenly become a passenger.

His energy might not be enough to cut the rope like a blade, but it might be enough if he concentrated all of it together. Squinting against the rushing water like a skydiver plunging through the air, he strained his arms out, grasping, and closed one hand around the rope. Focusing his power as his other hand joined the first, he concentrated with all his might on the point between his palms.

The water around his fingers sizzled - lightly at first, then quickly rose to a boil as his hands started to glow like molten metal. A torrent of bubbles flooded upward as the rope under his hands started to wither. His body tensed, every fiber of his being willing more power into his arms...

There was a sharp flash of light, and the death-grip on Belle's foot loosed. His legs swung back, his hands still tight on the sizzling, severed end of thick lashing rope.

Belle let go, finally free. He reoriented himself, looked up, and started kicking quickly for the surface. The weight on his foot was awkward, but he dared not stop to fully remove the remaining knots.

He made it about halfway back when he heard another scream. Belle turned his attention down just in time to see the squid's monstrous maw fanning open, tentacles spread and beak snapping, still trailing the severed length of hemp. Belle reacted without thinking, reached inside, and Flashed.

Time seemed to slow down as the world in front of Belle expanded. The salt water on his tongue stung, tangy and brined, and prickled against his eyes. He saw not only the squid, but the faint shafts of light playing across its body, and the miniscule lives that flitted like motes of dust within. He heard the rush of water, and could see in his mind's eye the flow of currents caused by it. It was a moment of clarity - a single, instantaneous second of complete and utter consciousness, and in that heartbeat, Belle saw every possible future, every action and reaction, every cause and effect. Then it passed.

Shooting his hands down, Belle fired off another blast of energy, flipping backward through the salty water as two of the arms swiped for him and missed. He twisted, dodging another as the image in his mind played out. A feeder tentacle the was bigger than he was swung at him, and he reached out as he scooted slightly to the side, letting the displaced water push him the final inch he needed to dodge, and grabbed on.

Belle pressed his palms against the tentacle, kicked off, spun, then fanned out his arms and legs and turned to the side, passing through the gap between the last two tentacles. He reached out, grabbed the rope, and bumped against the creature's rocky hide just above its eye. He clenched his free hand, braced his knees against the squid, and slammed his fist just above the kraken's eye.

A third scream. The squid bucked and spasmed wildly, its enormous eye burning with hatred. Belle smirked, and hit it again.

The eye suddenly went hazy and unfocused as the beast listed to the side, then shook itself as if trying to clear its head, dazed. Holding tight to the rope, Belle planted his feet amongst the barnacles and started to move down towards the fins. Leaving plenty of slack in the rope, he briefly ducked under one of the now-limp flaps, wrapped the rope around it, emerged back over top, and continued to the next, moving quickly as the squid started to come to its senses.

Wrapping the final loop around the second find, criss-crossing the ropes, Belle clambered back to the top as the kraken's eyes focused once more. Gathering up the bit of slack that he had left before, he wrapped it around his free arm, the other holding the severed end. He stamped his foot and gave a hard tug, yanking the tip of the squid upward.

~+~+~+~+~

The battle was getting messy. Caught off guard by the pirates' ferocity, many of the crew had fled to the lower decks. Those that could not make it had been herded onto the top of the aft castle, where they struggled to hold the line against a seething mass of angry, beweaponed sea dogs. The pirates' actions, many of the crew thought, had doomed them all, but it wasn't until someone started screaming 'kraken!' that their panic truly began to rise.

The heads of both the navy and lawless turned in unison to stare out at the water, eyes searching where the pointed finger of a dirty, frightened looking deckhand extended.

At first, they saw nothing. Then, slowly, the waves plumped upward, as something massive were snaking below the surface. The swell faded, then rose again, a dark shape undulating just out of sight. A flash of fleshy red broke the surface in a frothy spray, then receded.

The rain pounded down and the waves tossed and turned like a pig in slop. The merged ships creaked and groaned, the shouts of men carrying above them as they attempted to stem the rush of water filling the lower hold. A powerful gust of wind whistled across the deck, lifting a tricorn hat that had been trodden under in the fighting into the sky. It sailed like a feather over the sea, then landed lightly in the waves, which suddenly surged again.

Something broke the surface. It was a hand, calloused and tan, and gripped the folded brim of the hat tightly in its fingers. The arm rose, draped in a sleeve matted to the skin by the water, gold buttons shimmering on the cuffs. Then the hair came, wild and vividly red even amongst the darkness.

Belle Hibiki plopped his tricorn back onto his head, gasping for breath, and regripped one of the ropes he wielded like a horseman's reins. "Ya!" he snapped, stamping, and the massive form below the waves sped up. Shimmering barnacles broke the surface, glittering against a flash of lightning. Above the waves rose the form of the legendary kraken, its hide covered in an armor-like sheathe of shells. It splashed down just below the waves, a sliver of its terrible form visible, and whipped forward like a living torpedo.

The tip smashed against the underside of the pirate ship with incomprehensible force. All of the men on the Maiden's Dream staggered, several flying overboard as the impact drove the Black Oyster deeper against the galleon's side. The kraken sank below the waves as seawater poured into the fresh, gaping wound in the pirate ship's hull.

Far from being startled into silence, the noise and yelling was so loud that it was impossible to hear oneself think. Before more than a handful of pirates could swing back over, the water around their ship suddenly erupted, long squid tentacles flying up to wrap around its hull, smaller feelers sweeping across the deck and knocking men screaming into the drink.

Belle Hibibi emerged, standing above the angry eyes of the beast, and drew his cutlass. He gave a war bellow worthy of Poseidon himself, his voice shaking the very heavens, and pointed his sword at the enemy ship. His eyes were alight with the fury of the storm, and his lip was twisted into an eager, Devilish smile.

[Alura]

It was not as quiet and uneventful in the ship's cargo hold as Alura had originally thought. The musky smell of gunpowder only got stronger as the ship was slammed around like a toy on the strong waves that had grown outside. For a brief moment, the lizard-woman considered why she was even down, safe from the storm, the monster, the cannons and the brutal fighting up on the top deck. She had felt everything...from the vibrations of the waves hitting the wooden frame of the pirate vessel to the turbulence felt when the two boats rammed into each other. Every now and then, a gunshot blasted from above, keeping her on her toes.

Still, she was safer then she was up on top. That boy; the human. Juno. He had first risked innocent (well, maybe not innocent) lives by attacking the opposing Navy and then after one failure, causing another. The two boats rammed, and that was about the time that Alura made the boldest move yet.

She ran like a scared little girl.

The reptilian heir had rundown the stairs leading into one of the cabins, following the passage-way to the cargo hold where she holed up as the action brewed outside. She knew the sound of rain well enough, and the thunder was a good enough hint that the rainstorm was at it's peak. Even over all the chaos that was brought from above, she could still hear the screams of her captain and the roars of the bloodthirsty pirate crowd.

This wasn't where she should be. Something in her heart told her that she should have been up there, fighting like the rest of them rather then bouncing around a storage compartment like a piece of luggage. But she wasn't a warrior: not really. To be honest, she had yet to actually figure out why she was even picked for this virtual game, much less put on a pirate ship that she had no intention of defending. Even though in her scaly chest came the pulsing drive to go out and get right into the heat of the battle, her legs wouldn't move and her mind blocked out any thoughts of rebellion.

This was where she belonged. Hiding. That was all that she ever did. Hiding in the circus. Hiding in the temple. A warrior monk? Ha. Alura was a civilian casualty, caught up in the horrors of a chaotic world because of a lineage she didn't even want.

"Let's go, Pierre!" Came a noise from a floor above. The small-framed reptile looked up towards the door that connected the cargo hold from the rest of the third deck. Footsteps were coming fast, making Alura think of somebody looking for something. "The cargo hold is where we'll leave the dynamite!"

"I'm coming!" Came a gasping breath behind the first voice. "I was making sure nobody saw us go under!"

Alura quickly did what she did best: hide. Slinking into the corner behind a large shelf of oil barrels, the reptilian watched as two figures appeared in the room, one tall and lanky like her and the other slightly shorter but significantly larger. Both of them had the typical white wigs that she had known to be associated with the Royal Navy (she didn't know how she knew that, of course). The two soaked soldiers quickly shuffled over a bag that the skinny one was carrying.

Granted, the reptilian wasn't too familiar with human terms, but she knew what dynamite was.

"We're gonna blow this place to hell and back, Jacque," the bigger man was saying. "We're gonna make Captain Trafford so proud!"

"Stop your blubbering," Pierre said, "We're gonna be the ones getting blasted to the Locker if we set this off too soon."

That was enough to cause the big sailor to lose his grin and start to get serious with setting the dynamite down to the ground. Alura felt that familiar tingle that had tried to lure her out into the stormy fight above the hold. It was causing her to step forward, out from the corner. Her eyes started to light up with a crimson glow, her clawed hands hands balling into tight fists.

Nobody was blowing up Alura's Black Oyster. Regardless of how horrible the name was.

Caught up in the moment and unable to resist the urge to defend her prized pirate ship, the lizard-woman made a deliberate step forward so the creak in the wood would get the would-be demolition men's attention. The big one turned around first, but the girl was too quick, slamming a punch on his burly chest and wide jaw, then side-flipping the big man to the wooden floor. She may not have been a warrior, but she could fight.

"Die, foul beast!" The navy sailor shouted, bringing the unsheathed cutlass in his hand down towards her body. She quickly stepped sideways, allowing it to cut the air next to her. Alura brought her arm up to catch Pierre's, breaking his hold of the sword and grabbing it as it moved to the ground. The resulting swing of her arm brought the blade from one side of the tall man's neck to the other. He remained standing for a moment; his face riddled with shock as red liquid ooozed out of his mouth. There was a thud as his body hit the floor.

Then another when his head dropped.

Alura looked back at the terrified gaze of the big man. She probably looked like evil incarnate to a man that was taught that demons take many forms; especially one in a pirate outfit. She looked down at the stick of dynamite that had been left there, waiting to be detonated. The girl bent down and picked it up. "What are you doing?" Jacque asked, shuffling backwards on his bottom. "That's...that's very unstable!"

A shake feeling crept through her hand. One part of her wanted to grin evily and slice the man's face apart. The other part wanted to run away, breaking the spell that she was under. It seemed to real...she felt this pirate life was so...her.

"I'm an outcast because of what I look like and the things I can do," she said aloud to the terrified sailor, "The world has shunned me and gave me no chance for a normal life. But you know what?" She cocked her head to the side, speaking no longer from what this virtual game was feeding her and now speaking from her heart; her past. "I wouldn't have wanted a normal life even if I could have had it. Being a brigand isn't about stealing, wearing funny hats or speaking in code. It's freedom. No matter what you think of when you see me and regardless of how I'm judged, I know that in my heart I have a place to be accepted. I am a pirate of the Black Oyster and I'll see dead anyone who tries to take it down!"

As the Navy sword was raised up above her tall, scaly frame and her shirt revealed a tight blue stomach, the side of the ship blasted apart with tremendous force. With the impact came the rocking that brought her sideways against the many barrels oil. For a brief moment, she lost her line of sight with the fat sailor and scrambled to find him as the cargo shifted all over the room.

The water from the destroyed bulkhead poured in like a faucet into a sink. Alura jumped over one of the fallen crates and noticed the overweight Jacque trying to get out of the room, but she had jumped between him and his only exit. "You have to get out of my way!" He screamed, his face pale and flushed with shock. Behind him, the body of his partner was being picked up by the water that filled the room. "It's here! It's the monster!"

"What monster?" Alura asked, though she already knew the answer.

A small white tentacle-like figure rolled into the hole it had made near the bottom of the pirate vessel. Judging by the screams from above and the constant splintering of wood, it was safe to assume this wasn't the only breach the bulkheads had taken.

"You don't know?" Jacque asked in surprise. The monstrous tentacle raised up above him as he faced away, looking the blue princess dead in the eyes. "It's the Kraken."

Immediately as he spoke, the tentacle slammed towards him and wrapped around his body, giving him only a chance to muffle a yelp as he disappeared into the pool of water behind him. Alura instantly shot backwards and turned around in mid-air, scrambling up the stairs.

As if she was being chased, the sound of the ship's wall and floor breaking apart followed her, along with the constant piercings of more white limbs sticking into the shattering ship. The Kraken, as the big man had called it, was bringing the pirate ship down from the bottom, pulling it towards the ocean and taking down anyone who was fool enough to be on it at the time. The girl was scared again, no longer the brave pirate she was moments prior. She found her way up onto the main deck, and just barely lept to avoid being taken down with the stairs as they were broken by a suction-filled tentacle.

On the top deck, the first Alura saw was the body of a brave captain, one that had sailed on the Black Oyster for almost his entire fictional life. She paused for a moment, reflecting for him, and then ran into the current of the rain. The panic was strong, with most of the sailors and pirates retreating onto the opposite ship and seeming to put the fight on hold as the Kraken threatened to tear the Oyster apart.

Alura was one of the only living things on the deck. The rain continued to pour as she could feel the ship start to slant backwards, with it's stern being yanked into the water by the tremendous strength of the underwater beast. Alura could see one of the pirates she had sailed with being yanked off of the side of the ship, over the railing. She made her way to the bow, stumbling as the ship continued to rock.

Again, the vessel rocked as the waves hit it and the thunder crashed. She fell forward and just barely grabbed the front railing, holding the bow with one scaly grip. By now, the entire ship was pointed upwards, diagonal only slightly. The entire form was sticking up into the heavens above, with her body dangling towards the ocean threateningly.

"Alura!" Came a screech over the pounding of the rain. Her ears perked. Head turned. Innocent, terrified little-girl gaze glanced through the harshness of the foggy storm and made contact with a concerned pair of human eyes. It was the boy. Juno. Soaked blood on his clothing and a pained look in his eye as he helplessly watched her dangle. "Aluuurrrraaa!"

She looked away. Had to be strong. She had come too far; from a circus freak to the protector of a temple, to a virtual-world's prized pirate warrior. It wasn't that she was blue, or scaly, or a reptile or even a princess. She was a pirate. Whether this game was real or not...that much felt true.

The bow broke apart as another wave hit the ship, and the lizard-girl rolled down the tilted ship, towards the dragon-beast waiting for her in the waters below.

[Kill Town]

After Doppelgangers…

“You have some sick obsession with pirates, you know that?” Lance leaned back in his seat, eyeing Keith suspiciously. “In fact, the first thing you ever told me was a pirate joke.”

“What else would a one-legged woman be called?” Gamer rolled his eyes. “Arrrlene is comedy gold, and you know it.”

“How’s the girlfriend, by the way?”

“…shut up,” Keith mumbled.

The Naval Battle was something that Keith had been nervous about, as there were so many different variables to be concerned about. For instance, the pirate crews themselves: pirates were, by nature, extremely volatile, and a mutiny or sheer drunken randomness could have killed the participants far more quickly than Gamer had wanted. That was why, he supposed, he dressed them like pirates in the first place—they had a sort of unspoken respect for other pirates, and although they likely weren’t cut out to serve on a vessel, they were skilled enough to make it look like they were. To add to the danger, there was something else…

“Oh sweet mother of fuck,” Baller raised his eyebrows in shock. “How long did that take to code.”

The Kraken.

Eventually, it became apparent that the ships no longer had any interest in fighting each other in the shadow of such a monstrous beast. It had completely rocked one of the ships, and miraculously, the reptilian known as Alura had survived when her other digitalized pirate friends had been slaughtered by the massive tentacle as it swept across the deck. Part of it broke off, and suddenly, she was sliding towards the gaping maw of the beast itself, despite the constant screaming of Juno. If it weren’t for some quick acting by the blue pirate herself, Alura would have been eaten for sure—a rope had been torn from its previous position, and swung down past her head. Grabbing a tight hold of it, she swung herself towards a more steady part of the ship. It was a temporary solution, however, as the boat began to take on water.

“Damn, that things rockin’ it,” Trafford said. He turned towards Belle, who had scrambled to his side during the Kraken attack on the other vessel. “Hey, if you have any bright ideas, now would be a…good…time…”

He trailed off as he examined Belle’s countenance. Hibiki frowned. “What are you looking at?”

Trafford took a step backwards. The Saiyan fighter, already decked out in pirate gear, had propped a leg up on a barrel and leaned against his heightened knee as he contemplated their position. Alexander hid a smile. “What are you now, Captain Morgan?”

“But…my name is Belle,” he seemed confused. Trafford likely would have responded with something else, but the Kraken had turned its attention on their boat. A limb rapped against the side of the boat and nearly pushed it on its side. Both makeshift pirates stumbled as they quickly tried to regain their balance, finally being able to do so by clutching onto the railing.

Trafford shook his head as the temporary partners exchanged glances. “We need to handle this thing now.”

There was one cannon left untouched, and it was a straight sprint away. It was almost a mirror image on the other ship, where Alura and Juno darted towards their own remaining cannon to fire upon the creature in a last-ditch effort to survive. In fact, from Gamer’s perspective, both cannons were loaded simultaneously, and when they were fired, the rich teenager couldn’t tell much difference in the time the cannonballs were released. All he knew was that, in the end, the Kraken ended up exploding into several pieces, the storm that resumed seemed like nothing compared to the void the creature left behind.

“Now that…was unexpected,” Lance said, his expression nearly matching those of the Kill Town pirates. “We’re going to have to clean up some of the coding, it looks like.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Gamer waved off the criticism. “Well, that’s it for now. Get back in the game. I’ll make another announcement when I’m ready to go on.”

1st: Belle and Trafford – 40 monies
2nd: Juno and Alura – 20 monies