ROAMING

Wetport was a respectable, well built trading hub on the west coast of Saltyhand Island. The island itself was nothing special, if not for its cave of salt. In fact, in the valley between a couple of mountains named White and Stone, there was a cave which opening resebled an open right hand.

Inside said cave, there was a deposit of salt of a quality far superior to the one that could be extracted in the salt flats. It was of a beautiful reddish pink color, and brought with its typical, slightly bitter flavour, which exalted hundreds of different cusines around the Blue.

The two mountains, which were respectively 2326 and 2105 meters tall, managed to hold on their small glaciers throughout the whole year, allowing the people of the village several avenues to conserve their food. And such variety of food there was! The valley a wonderful place to farm, given the costant abundance of fresh water and the regular rains caused by the warm wind coming from the south hitting the mountains. Besides, the higer areas of White and Stone were covered in forests which hosted a lot of wild animals, from bears to deers, from eagles to boars.

The people of Saltyhand were simple, hardworking, honest folk. There were several kinds of interesting jobs to be had on such an island after all, so what need was there to go out looking for trouble at sea? None. At least that was what was thought to the younger generations of Saltyhand Island natives.

Two main rivers were born on the top of White and Stone, and those had been named, maybe without too much effort, Whitorrent and Stonriver, they met at a small lake at the beginning of the valley, and from there Wetroad was born, crossing the whole farming region until the sea.

At the end of the valley, there was the main village, and it was so big that it was almost a town, it was called, without any apparent reason, Toptown. It was barely more than a collection of warehouses and shops of every kind, and it existed only to provide the Saltyhand Island natives with a safe place to trade with each other. No need to risk the coast if they weren't greedy. After all, the Wetroad could be sailed in both directions on barges or even kayaks. In fact, there was even a renting company for boats. Several artisans travelled upstrams on this or that small ship, only to return to Toptown paying a small fee for an hammock on one of the barges, often stopping on this or that village to offer their serviges during the trip.

While the people of Saltyhand Island was honest and hardworking, they weren't complete idiots. They had always known that the world outside their homecountry was greedy and cutthroat, Age of Piratery or not. As such, and given the presence of the Wetroad, Toptown wasn't on the coast, but just at the end of the valley, where the goods could be sorted out and properly priced for Wetport, little more than a trading hub where the Wetstone met the Blue.

During their travels, the merchants often stopped to the main trading hub of the island: Wetport. There, the goods where already neatly organized and priced, courtesy of the administrators in Toptown, and ao it allowed for quick transations that didn't slow down their never ending courses.

Matt Watson understood how his homecountry worked, it was simple and effective. Granting to everyone the possibility to travel away from the coast, where the job was more, easier, better paid, but marred by its monotony and the risk of a pirate raid, to Toptown or even the valley, where there were countless different kinds of occupations, but that were paid far less.

"The money is on the Blue!" his father had used to say, and while Matt recognized the truth of his words, he also recognized that to the rest of the world, Saltyhand Island didn't really exist. They hadn't even the eclecticipy he heard a drunken sailor grumble about once. Merchants dropped in for a single night or day and left with the following rising tide. The young Watson, like everyone born on the island, distrusted foreginers, trading with your fellow countrymen was granted to be done in good faith, "There is no time for trickery among honest people!" his father used to say.

Matt also knew that trading with oustiders gretly benefited his people, with that money high quality medicines were bought, along with minerals that the island was sadly devoid of. Even so, every time a merchant smiled in his direction, the young Watson couldn't shake the idea that he and his people were being tricked.

He eyed suspiciously the grinning fatso that he had just finished bargaining with before turning his eyes toward the setting sun.

The sunset was almost at its end, torches were already being lit on order to squeeze out of the day every possible deal, but Matt knew to not be greedy, and so moved around the family shop, closing everything and stacking his earnings of the day under his jacket. At the end of the month he would travel to Toptown in order to purchase the goods he would be selling once he finished with the current ones. He nodded to himself, lowering the portcullis and heading towards the beach. He would trat himself tonight, something from the Green Pearl, one of the best Inns of the trading hub.

He was down at the port proper when he heard the first scream of alarm. It can't be. Then the bell rang loud across the small port, and Matt felt his stomach quelch.

Then the first booms of cannonballs could be heard, and after a brief whistling sound, everything went to hell. The wall of the shop he was passing by exploded with a thundering mess of shards of woods and rabble, hurling him across the crowded street.

When he came to, only a few minutes had passed, and the sunset's light had dimmed, replaced by the fires caused by the assault, thick black smoke was cut by orange rays of light. His whistling ears recognised screams and explosions, before his throbbing body called back his attention.

It wasn't as much in pain as he was in discomfort, he couldn't feel his body beneath his shoulders, in the madness that surrounded him, it didn't even seem important. He was horrifyied, stunned by the situation that hadn't set in yet.

When a figure made its way through the smoke, then, Matt felt fear.

Barefoot, wide black slacks tied around his calves, an open, white, long sleeved shirt contrasted with the red sash around his waist. The wild smile on his face was bloodcurling, while his red mane shook in the wind, and the axe he was twirling in his hand was dripping.

When Matt saw him starting laughing, leaning to the left and whirlwinding among the men that merchants had bought the services of, cutting them apart, breaking them. He dodged projectiles, hits from blind spots, punched with a strenght that couldn't belong to such a body, and if Matt wasn't sure of the sheer impossibility of it, he could have sworn he saw him fly. Then Matt felt himself fall uncouscious, and didn't resist.

Three weeks later

The sun was hitting our heads like a ton of bricks, but the wind was harsh enough to keep us from melting in puddles of sweat. I walked with nary a care through the main deck, my feet giving faint thumps against the warm wood, the course had been set, the crew thinned and trained, the ship renamed Wavebreaker.

Frankly, I was surprised by the low amount of resentment the crew felt towards me, as well by how fast they fell in line to follow the orders of the extremely tall 13 years old kid that butchered their companions before effectively taking command of their lives. But then again, having your stomach full and someone to lead you towards easy prey seems to be the best a pirate can wish on these seas. I reminded myself. What else could they do? Killing me sounded like a one-way ticket to 'I regret it-land', running away was an option, sure. They could have stayed behind on Swordfish Island. But what then?

Pirates were people that lived off other human beings. Leeches, nothing more. Oh sure, some knew their mansions, but being able to work on a ship was hardly mention-worthy in a world where everyone grew up with dreams of open seas. No carpenter knew how to build or maintain a building, no helmsman knew anything but how to keep a course against the will of the Blues. The top fighter of a pirate crew could go bounty hunting, why not. But only if there wasn't a bounty on their heads already.

In hindsight, is easy to see why they have stayed without complaints. I snorted, letting the wind spray my face with seawater, my blindfold keeping me from having to shut my eyes closed. Observation Haki was slowly morphing into something that allowed me to keep track of my surroundings, even if I was far from being able to see everything a là Fujitora. I raised my blindfold, unable to resist the temptation.

Oda knew how to draw 'em. I grinned, openly staring the long legs of my navigator that led from her sandals to her solid 9/10 ass.

"Are you done imagining me without pants, Cap?" Sarah taunted me while turning to smirk at me.

"I'm thirteen, you're lucky puberty hasn't finished settling in properly." I grumbled in annoyance. I wasn't one for rape, but being the Captain of a crew where I would toss out those I doubted the loyalty of, often with violent means, meant that she would only be happy to take my virgin body for a ride, ensuring herself a position of prestige above the other members of the crew. It only made sense that she would try to ensure her survival.

Oda's world promoted Darwinism at its finest, and I was a very dangerous, not completely sane, violent kid that was only going to grow stronger. I recognized that the world I was into was real, at least for me, it felt real. But from there to actually treating others like they were important... it wasn't for me.

Whatever reason dropped me here, I don't care. I realized once again, my hand finding my blindfold and dragging it again over my eyes.

"How long to our target?" I asked.

"It could be a week or a month." I could hear her shrugging. That people had no actual idea of distances in this world still sent me off the deep Blue. Ryōshi fluttered his wing quietly on his perch, recalling my attention, and clicked his beak twice, as to laugh. "Well, it's not like you have any better idea of distances, do you?"

His answer was to turn his head 180 degrees, willfully ignoring me. "Need I to remember you that we met when you got lost at sea and landed bleeding out on my deck?" That incensed him. I thought amusedly when I saw him fly away with an outraged squawk.

"A good thing that the last raid had been so successful then." I said, returning to our previous conversation. It will give me time to figure out another trick or two about fighting. I didn't remember my previous life, but I never thought I'd be so violent when granted the opportunity. But then again, it was a violent world. Adapt and survive and all that jazz.

A couple of weeks later, we saw our destination: "Okay people!" I shouted loud enough to raise the dead, "You know the drill!"

"Captain are you sure?" Sarah asked me, "There is a Marine outpost there."

I removed my blindfold and watched as one of the kast two male members of the crew lowered the jolly roger before tying the flag of one of the merchants we raided on Saltyhand Island.

"We're only here to purchase stuff with our money, not to go to war, relax woman." I rolled my eyes before tying up my hair, hiding them under the repurposed blindfold and my wide straw hat. I kept my shirt closed and removed my red sash, choosing to forfeit my one-handed ax in order to go around with only a knife tied to my waist and Ryōshi perched on my shoulder, like some parody of a pirate with a parrot. After we docked, I left a couple of my mooks to guard the ship, while the others were free to go shopping with their cut of the money.

I had them roll a couple of barrels of reddish-pink salt upon a cart and I set out to the merchant district. It didn't take long to find one of the warehouses which sold food to the restaurants of the city.

"Hello?" I shouted once inside, "My pa' sent me to sell here!"

"And who might you be, boy?" A gruff looking man, in his forties, hair that started turning from black to grey, greeted me.

"Oh, sir, I'm David Jones, sir! And I have a super deal for you!" I spoke quickly, excited by my own charade.

When the man simply rose a questioning eyebrow, eyeing the owl on my shoulder with narrowed eyes, I resumed speaking: "My pa' traded for this salt while we were still at sea, you see, and we were still going towards Saltyhand Island! But when we arrived, the port was gone!"

"Gone?" The older man squinted an eye at me.

"Gone, sir! The pirates raided them, they didn't leave a single building standing." I frowned, "Pirates are filth." I hissed, before turning back to stare with a huge smile on my face.

"But the loss of the dwellers of Saltyhand is your gain! You won't see much of their salt for months, maybe a year, my pa' said so! But you are in luck because you can purchase both the barrels for 50.000 beli!" I ended my rant shaking my arms wildly.

"And why would your father send you alone, hm? 50.000 beli isn't something a kid should be handling on his own." He retorted.

"Oh, do not worry! I am strong! And last month I completed a transaction worthy 40.000 beli, so it's only right I up my game, sir!" I sniffed, my arms crossing on my chest, which puffed up proudly.

In the meantime, the man had opened both the barrels and tasted a pinch of salt from each: "Still, a young lad shouldn't have such success, in my time... Bah, since I like you, I'm willing to pay 5.000 beli!"

"Surely you jest! I didn't know this was a charity, or that this island was in such poor conditions, I'll have to drag the two barrels back to the ship." I shook my head, refusing to give an inch, and so our haggling began, with Ryōshi flicking my ear with a flapping wing from time to time.

After several minutes, the man slammed a hand against one of the barrels: "I can't pay you more kid, half of this salt will go to the marine base, as a sign of appreciation that the warehouse is safe from arson, you understand?"

I cringed a bit, noticing the fearful and enraged expression of the man. There is no honor among the lawful enforcers of justice. I sighed, scratching my head: "I'll tell you what, I'll sell these two beauties for 40.000 beli and if you trade me something special on the side. A case of North Blue Vodka, I see you've been recently restocked: since I'm about to become a big brother and the family will need something exotic to celebrate. What do you say?"

"I'm glad your family is growing, but I can't give you more than 10.000 beli with along with the vodka." the man shook his head, but he was almost grinning.

We both knew what it was fair: "25.000 beli and the case of North Blue vodka for the last barrels of Saltyhand Salt on this sea." I nodded in agreement and stretched out my hand.

No merchant was ever happy to give away money, even for what he knew was a more than fair price.

I returned to the ship stopping here and there to purchase whatever grabbed my eye. I would have liked a revolver of some kind, but sadly they were yet to be invented. Or maybe thankfully they are yet to be invented. I rectified my thoughts. After all, the better weapons would be obviously reserved to the Marines. Still, I eyed longingly a couple of guns, before dismissing them and purchasing a wetstone for my loyal one-handed ax. I refuse to become reliant on a weapon, be it a gun or sword. I reminded myself. Yet, there was some cool appeal in swinging around a sword. Then I remembered of what exactly I was already capable of without one and left it like that.

Once I manage to eat the lightning logia, I'll build myself a rail gun. For shit and giggles. Satisfied with the compromise, I kept going, purchasing sunglasses with mirror-like lenses and... and? Slowly, I came to the realization that I really didn't know what to buy with the money I had with me. Armor was useless. I didn't need weapons or equipment. Seastone was restricted material, as were actually useful maps, I didn't really care about clothes, my body was still too young to produce the enzymes to properly consume alcohol... There were no videogames or smartphones to purchase, cigarettes gave cancer... I sat on a stone bench near a fountain, reflecting on my misery.

That leaves out food, but I've already given a list to my mooks to replenish our hull. I thought, and I wasn't really hungry.

With a sigh, I rose from my seated position and wandered through the small market, hoping to find something. interesting. When my eyes fell on a second-hand shop, I couldn't resist. Once I entered, my heart swelled: it was full of junk! Shit that nobody wanted for a reason or another, and maybe a hidden treasure!

"What do you want kid?" a raspy voice questioned me.

I followed the sound until I found an old woman hidden behind a counter too high for her clearly hunched form. "Only to browse a bit." I shrugged.

"Keep your sticky hands in your pockets kid, the Marines are always eager to punish injustice." She threatened me, gaining herself a big roll of my eyes.

Later, I left the shop with my hands still in my pockets, where a lot of knick-knacks had joined them with the rude old lady being non the wiser. I would have bought something, if she didn't treat me like a thief. I frowned. Was it petty? Yes. Did I care? Not. One. Bit. With people, often one obtains what he is expecting to obtain.

I started making my way back to the ship, dragging around a case of vodka for several hours wasn't exactly trying, given my unnaturally strong physique (unnatural for the standard human at least), but it still was far from being comfortable. I reached the port after having dropped in a music store where I purchased one of those magic sound snails to act as an amplifier and a classic guitar. Coupled with the harmonica I stole from the second-hand shop, I could try to teach these barbarians how hardcore was Dylan. Or at least try and recreate the AC/DC, replaying them during the next raid as a soundtrack.

I snorted, I could already see it: Thunderstruck filling the air while I tore through marine ranks.

"Stop right there kid." A male voice called me with a tone of command. But since I couldn't be sure it was referring to me, I kept walking.

"You with the guitar!" the voice repeated, and this time there was a thumping of boots on the street.

At that point I was forced to stop, rolling my eyes at the absurdity cliched scene that was about to happen. I turned for my eyes, hidden beneath the sunglasses, to focus on the source of my annoyance. A group of marines was strolling towards me, faces that wanted to look menacing but barely managed to hide their glee. They were eyeing my vodka.

"What is a kid your age doing with a case of North Blue Vodka?" asked one. Ryōshi took that as his clue to fly away from the impending conflict.

"I'm about to become a big brother and my family will use this to celebrate!" I answered with my most childish voice.

The first marine closed in on me: "Then what if it's poisoned?"

The second walked behind me, no doubt to stop me from running away, while the third barely held back a snicker and pretended to be scared by the possibility. Clearly I was too tall and adult looking to pull off whatever inherent cuteness I may still have held within me.

"In a couple of weeks we'll receive an inspection from a captain, it wouldn't do to have citizen dead from a poisoned case. We'll need to examine it, back at the base." The fourth took the case from my hands without even pretending to ask: I let him take it, what else could I do? I didn't want them to take away other stuff from me.

"Oh, that's very thoughtful! Thank you Mr. Marine, sir! I'll come to the base with the rest of the beverages we planned to use to celebrate before the sun is out, I can return with my aunties at dawn to retrieve the sampled goods, so we can set sail with the new tide!" I spoke quickly, already walking towards the port, a plan taking form in my head.

The Marines obviously laughed: "Tell whoever is posted at the entrance of the base that Lieutenant Grayson asked for goods to sample!" Said the one with my case in his hands.

"Bring your aunties too!" shouted another, but I was already running towards the port, and I could pretend to not having heard his command.

Along my way, I entered a pharmacy and started browsing, once more having my mind blown by the inconsistencies of this world. Seriously, how the fuck did they manage to not have sent people into space but have medicines with active principles clearly printed on their labels?

"Oxycodone, Morphine, Hydrocodone, I have no idea why they actually sell Methadone based stuff, this shit is needed to wane people off heroin." I mumbled to myself while browsing and dumping filling my sash with everything I could get away with before placing the rest inside a sack. I kept adding knicks and knacks until the shop was empty, only then choosing to approach the vendor.

The sun would go down in a couple of hours, I didn't exactly have a lot of time. Luckily enough, I was going around with a lot of beli on my person, the raid on Saltyhand Island having proved more successful than I had hoped, and the other ship we ripped apart out at sea was filled to the brim with every kind of good I had needed to run my ship.

I dropped 30.000 beli without even blinking, and I left the shop towards the port.

As soon as I was on the ship, I walked up to Sarah, who was overseeing the preparations to sail with the tide: "Change of plans, call the crew to the galley, quietly."

I brought my stuff back in the Capitan's quarters, which were nothing more than a single room with stained glass windows, a desk made for writing a logbook I didn't keep, a wider than normal bed where I didn't fuck in, and shelves that actually were full of my stuff. Everything was obviously either nailed or tied in place.

When I walked back into the galley I nodded, appreciating that everyone was already seated and that Ryōshi was uncharacteristically keeping it quiet, maybe recognizing that it was time to be actually serious.

"So, I know everyone was nervous about roaming the streets in a city with a marine fort." I started, noticing the several nods around the table: "Did any of you have problems?"

At the negative chorus, I smiled. "These marines are all crooks, cap'n." A woman around 25 years old spoke, her frown not quite managing to hide her eyes.

"So you noticed, Helen?" I asked, carefully choosing her name among the several my mind offered. Seriously, I remembered Sarah because she would be difficult to replace, the others... meh. Eye-candy and numbers.

"Difficult not to notice." grumbled Han, the only male I didn't drop off at Swordfish Island. Why? Because I was calling him Solo, and he said he liked it.

"So, the original plan was to sell the food downtown, buy whatever shit you fancied and keep the ear down for a piece of the island where we can have fun without worrying about marines dropping on our backs." Sarah recapped, eager to not lose her position as my 'First Mate', "There are a couple, small chunks of rocks with four trees and enough people to have an inn where the locals go for a drink after a day passed in the fields or mines." she reported.

"Distance?" I asked.

"Less than a week." she quickly answered.

I nodded, dropping the sack filled with painkillers on the table: "New plans, the Marines fucked with me, so we're burning and pillaging, starting with their base."

The outrage was in the air, but I trained my girls, and Han too I suppose, to wait for the end of whatever speech I'm making before talking back.

"At sundown, Solo and I will be dragging a couple of carts of alcohol for the Marines to sample, and since we're officially setting sail with the dawn, before that time I promised to the marines that stole my vodka that my aunties and I would be going there retrieving the sampled goods." I explained, opening the sack and letting them look inside.

"So... we're drugging them?" Asked Helen, an hopeful tone in her voice. I really didn't want to touch her past tragic backstory, so I carried on, ignoring her resentment towards corrupted Marines: "What in littles doses save a life, in bigger doses kills." I quoted Assasin Creed without remorse.

"So, we poison our reserves of Ale and whatnot, give them to the marines, and before dawn, we'll be welcomed to enter the base where we'll finish the job?" Sarah asked.

"Ha! I like it!" A chorus of assents went over the not totally sane girls I kept on the crew.

"Cap, you realize that we're like... ten?" one of the other girls spoke. It was always her to doubt of my plans. I could have dropped her from the crew, but we were actually nine people. Seven women, which were surprisingly capable with their weapons of choice, and Solo, who loved swinging around his mace. They were good, but, human-good, not protagonist-of-One-Piece good.

"Why did you have vodka? You don't drink." Solo asked while starting crushing medicines.

"It was meant to be a gift for the crew, it was some North Blue high-quality stuff.

"Ooh, Cap, you're so cute!" some of the girls squealed, while Han shook his head: "They stole our present! Let's wreck them!"

"The drugs won't be enough for the ale, but we're lucky, the higher ranked and strongest marines will likely hoard the really good stuff." I explained.

"But I wanted to keep my tequila!"

Ignoring the dismay, I left the room to get a bit of shut-eye, I felt like I was the starter pokemon at level 80 when the rest of the team barely reached level 30 and I was about to fight the League.

After a restorative 20 minutes long sleep, I left the cabin and the ship, pushing a cart with Solo up to the Marine base.

The trip was relatively short, and soon enough, we reached our destination. "Liutenant Grayson told me to bring here the drinks to be checked for poison." I said smiling to the first marine I saw.

The man seemed saddened by the news, but he nodded tiredly: "Leave it here, kid. I'll call someone to bring it inside." he sighed. Could it be? I wondered.

Looking at him intently, I took in his defeated demeanor, that together with his less than enthusiast answer pictured something incredible: an honest marine!

A pity that his fellow soldiers chose to fuck with me. I shrugged off whatever fault his existence could have hit me with.

6 hours later

Dropping off the alcohol had been easy, returning to the marine base a couple of hours before dawn was even more simple.

The rabble was giving a truly big ass party, the cacophony was something I would have expected from a pirate 'thanks-fuck-we-are-still-alive' party, but given the corrections I had applied to the different, heavier, drinks, I couldn't exactly blame them. The honest marine from before was nowhere to be seen.

I shrugged, leading my two 'aunties' inside. A black-haired woman named Ella and Helen were the two I had chosen to accompany me in the slaughter: "Remember, leave those asleep for last, they may never wake up again given the shit we've given them."

Their silent nods were all the confirmation I needed. I walked in a wide room that likely worked as the dining hall for the troops, and studied silently my multiple targets: "Find the Transponder Snails room." I reminded the duo behind me.

The Marines were wasted. Clearly, emboldened by the lax and almost hedonistic attitude of their superiors, they had opened all of their reserves: many were slumped against benches, under or over tables, while the ones that still managed to stay awake were singing off tune while swaying heavily on their asses.

I wasn't familiar with the Navy's ranking system, but I knew that in such a backwater place, the garrison was hardly going to be overflowing with people, thusly reducing the need for a long chain of command on the island.

That meant that Lieutenant Grayson was likely the boss of the place, and that the number of drugs we left in the best drinks had likely already killed anyone with the clearance to give orders. Inside the room, I counted 42 marines, 29 of which were slumped, unconscious, or already dead, maybe suffocated in their own vomit.

I brought my right hand to my back and slid my ax out of my red sash. It was going to be messy.

Without any kind of moral justification or higher reasoning, I wanted to kill the marines. That would leave the whole town defenseless, meaning that during the day we could just set sail with a full hull and maybe a cutter or two tied to our tail, just to have some extra cargo available.

I whirlwinded through the fucked up Marines, my free hand falling like a hammer crushed their throats, while the blade of the ax cut through skin, muscle, sinew, and bone like they weren't there. Was it strictly necessary to kill them? No. But it was way easier than only knocking them out or tossing them in their own detention cells. And so I watched myself massacre almost defenseless marines, too fast for their far too predictable movements, too strong for their far too meager resistance. I was a scythe during the harvest.

Even on Saltyhand Island, I didn't deliberately look for civilians, what was the fun in cutting down sheep? The guards hired by merchants were free game, and much more interesting to fight. The Marines chose to put their lives on the line, the guards did the same, civilians chose to stay weak and ignorant of the wide world. Since I chose to put my life on the line the first day I left Swordfish Island, I found more meaning in targeting the first two categories than the third. Not that I was battle-hungry, but what was the point of becoming powerful if that power was without direction? Might as well sharpen my teeth on others that chose to risk their lives on the path of power.

It took me 28 minutes. 42 marines, a few of which had tried to leave the room through doors that I had my companions shut closed.

I snatched a lighter and tossed it over the broken bottles. That shit ignited in a second. I noted with a satisfied grin.

I reached one of the closed doors, and I was once more in front of the oak on Swordfish Island. My will was absolute.

I breathed slowly, I inhaled, and exploded forward, my fist colliding with the door.

Haki rippled from within, an unfamiliar shiver running around my knuckles: and the door exploded. There hadn't been any room for doubt or afterthought. The hit wouldn't even redden my skin, I was punching It, not the other way around. I was invulnerable.

I brought back my hand, examining carefully my unblemished skin. It was becoming easier, but it would require years of long work still.

I made my way out of the room and started running towards the sounds of a battle, when I reached the courtyard I was treated to the sight of my crew cornering eight Marines that clearly weren't important enough to be invited to the party. My eyes went over the several bodies on the ground, appreciating the single bullet wounds on each of them. Head, heart, lungs... They had been cheapshotted, likely by the duo I had accompany myself, before the sober marines zeroed in on them just in time for the others to come and help.

I ran towards the marines, flanking them: while I was surpassing the first corpse, I ducked under a stray bullet, picking up a pistol while I was at it. I ran forward, my steps thundering on the ground while I threw my ax forward: while rotating, the flat of its blade intercepted a bullet directed towards Solo. The hit pushed the weapon a bit out of course, so instead of embedding itself in the target's shoulder, it landed on his arm, just after the elbow. It cut through.

The sudden appearance of a flying ax clued in the survivors to my presence, and along with the bloodcurdling scream of pain, it alerted them of my threat level. Not that it helped them.

The pistol I had picked up shot down one, before being thrown against another, impairing his sight for a second: a single second was more than enough. I fell on him like a ton of bricks, a lariat crushing his throat. I used the change in momentum given by the body weighting on my arm to twirl in place, my right hand grabbing the marine by the scruff of his jacket and tossing him against his fellow soldiers.

I charged behind the flying body, the marines stopped shooting because they didn't know their companion was slready dead, I ducked towards my left, avoiding a bullet that would have met my hip, rolled forward, dodging narrowly a slash performed with a saber. While righting up, my left hand closed in on an abandoned sword, I swung it upwards with all the considerable strength I could muster, and broke through the hasty parry of yet another NPC, the edge of my blade biting deep into his chest.

The silence and lack of threats to my Color of Observation made me still for a second. I looked around, seeing that with the distraction I had provided, my crew had managed to nail down the survivors.

From when I left the dining hall less than 3 minutes had passed. "Ok, raid all around, but go in pairs and keep your eyes open. Solo and Sarah! To the cells! I want their sea stone cuffs and chains, if there are people licked up, well they are just lucky, free them. Helen and Hella! Since you know the way, steal their transponder snails!" I barked out my orders before turning my back on them and returning inside the base.

"And don't steal alcohol, I don't know what is poisoned and whatnot!" I shouted from over my shoulder while I was running.

I was looking for the Lieutenant's office, given the amount of corruption that ran around the town, I expected to find a load of cash or whatever rare shit the civilians had traded in exchange for protection.

I reached what looked to be the most jumped up the room of the whole base, and given the presence of bookshelves accompanying a single desk furnished with snail transponder, I realized I hit jackpot.

"Aaand there is a half-hidden safe." I noted with glee: it was of roughly 50x50 centimeters as it base and 70centimeters tall. I had no idea how to break it open, and it needed a combination. I thought briefly how to solve the problem, before smirking: with a grunt, I hurled it out of the window, I would recover it later, maybe the fall from the second floor would be enough to crack it, otherwise, I was sure Solo could go all out with his mace.

After that, I turned, looking around in the room, noticing the stacks of beli orderly piled on a side of the room. My smile threatened to split my cheeks open.

It is great to be a pirate.

Months Later

We had pushed the ship deep onto the sandy beach of yet another nameless and too little to matter island. This one even looked like it was uninhabited, which marked it as a wonderful place for our vacation.

Since Saltyhand Island, when I actually started my career of pillaging and burning, the Sudden Pirates (a name that I picked while drunk after the marine base mess and that stuck somehow) had only found successes. Either pirates too green to be a threat, merchants too stingy to hire proper protection, or marines that didn't expect to be attacked. For some reason, which I suspected was death-of-key-witnesses, we still didn't have a bounty, and I appreciated it: it meant 0 bounty hunters, and that if we wanted to make port in a small village we could, the only tricks necessary were hiding the jolly roger and avoiding going around armed up to the wazoo.

After the last successful raid, we almost unanimously chose to take a short break on the first island available, and do there we were. There was no rush to go to the next island, or to prepare for the Grand Line, nobody in my crew felt like or wished to face the big leagues. I agreed, I was still learning how to adapt to the strangest situations, and until I was sure I could face a Sea King, I would avoid moving forward. I was an unspecified amount of years ahead of the canon events, and so I knew that the One Piece wasn't going anywhere. Besides, I needed to become strong enough to face the lightning logia, so I still had a long way ahead of me. But as I had said before, there was no rush. Ryōshi had been less than amused by being left on the ship during our face off against the marines, but like I had explained multiple times, there wasn't really a way for him to battle humans able to shot him mid-air. Not without a devil fruit... Ok, point of the list of the Great Objectives: To find a useful fruit for Ryōshi to eat.

We had set up a small camp in the woods nearest to the beach, in a small clearing where the hammocks naturally lulled us to sleep, and I was busy balancing rocks and whatnot.

Sitting cross-legged, pebbles, coins, rocks, sticks, and whatever I happened to land my hands on returned to the growing tower.

"Cap, are you still playing with rocks?" Solo grumbled.

I was startled and my tower of balanced junk trembled, even if it refused to fall, and I removed my blindfold: "Dinner's ready?"

The man nodded slowly: "Sarah is proud to have learned in the kitchen whatever you taught."

I snorted, rising from my position and walking back to the beach, where my small crew had set up a big fire with wood bleached by the waves, that made the flames burn of an eerie green. The girls were singing horribly off tune while drinking heavily, it was a scene that made me smile. I wasn't about to become sappy, and I treated them more like trained pets than friends, but it didn't bother me.

Hours later we reached the hammocks we had set up in the clearing, another small fire set up in the middle, soon enough, I fell asleep to the crackling of the flames and Solo's heavy snore.

Hours later, while I was deeply in Morpheus' realm, the crumbling of my tower of balanced rocks and random junk made me snap open my eyes, just in time to see a dark form slam on my head.