[Episode] The Old Man and the Boat

Quest Request:

It was early in the morning when Old Man Santiago came knocking at Luka’s tenement door, it was early enough in the morning that the impoverished bounty hunter hadn’t even had time to take the cold hard-water shower that constituted his morning routine. There was no place in Luka’s small apartment to seek refuge from the rapping at his door, and no point in trying to dampen the sound with his dirty, beaten-up pillow.

Standing to his feet from the box spring on his floor, the messy-haired and sunken-eyed Luka made his way to answer his door; he supposed that either his father’s debtors had business, or that he had forgotten to pay some bill or another.

Though he knew he was wrong to feel this way, Luka was a bit relieved when he checked through his peep hole and saw a totally unfamiliar man, who appeared to be sullen and distraught. Luka slid the bolt from his door and opened it a crack, peeking his messy head through and speaking to the man,

“Uh, hello. Do I know you?” The young man spoke groggily.

The old man was relieved that the bounty hunter had answered him, [npc=misc]“Santiago, I’m a friend of Shin’s. He told me you might be able to help me rope up some bounties…”[/npc]

The fisherman procured a small collection of wanted posters, and handed them to the sleepy-eyed man, [npc=misc]“... I’m lookin’ to round up these fellers. The lot stole away with my boat and have been parading it around town, hopefully they shouldn’t be too hard to track down. If you can get ‘em I’ll reward you personally on top of whatever the Bounty Office gives you for ‘em.”[/npc]

Luka shuffled through the stack of papers, looking at each criminal's face and the monetary value associated with their head, “Yeah these guys are all small timers, what’s the bonus you’re gonna cut me?”

[npc=misc]“I’ll give you 10,000,000 Berri if you bring me back the ship intact,”[/npc] Santiago spoke plainly.

The Stray Dog thought over the offer for a moment before throwing his hand out to the old man.

“Alright Santiago, you got yourself a deal,” Luka smirked before retreating back into his apartment with the stack of papers. With his sleep disturbed, the bounty hunter set about his morning routine and began readying himself for the task ahead of him.

Word Count:

‘Slimy’s Dime and Dive’ sat proudly tucked away. A neon sign stood watch over an old cellar door, once vibrant orange and boasting of the bar’s name, it now flickered with the same tired unsteadiness as the patrons lurking within. Rain drops as black as tar and thickened by the polluted murk that floated haze-like above Spider Miles, battered against the weather-beaten door, dying it the same sludge black as the walls around it.  Derelict wood on rusty hinges buried behind trash and factory waste, and sandwiched between dockhouses of Spider Miles’ port district, ‘Slimy’s Dime and Dive’ was a place of discretion.

“So, what have you got for me?” Orion’s steel colored eyes gleamed in earnest anticipation as he watched the man behind the bar lazily clean a haphazard collection of pints and steins. His fingers drummed in matching anticipation against a bar that was surprisingly well-maintained. It stood out among the refurbished furniture and cable-spool tables for its lacquered wood and polished shine.

[npc=misc]”Nothing.”[/npc] Grunted ‘Slimy’ Jack Tullen, gruff for all that his moniker would say otherwise.

”What?! But I gave you all my money!”

[npc=misc]”First rule of information gathering; make sure the informant actually has any information. You just slapped down a bag of Belli and demanded information on free boats.”[/npc] Slimy shook his head, his pompadour glistening with slick pomade under dull bar lamplight.  

Orion muttered "But Winslow said ‘Always ask a barkeeper about rumors and information.’”

[npc=misc]”What is this, a fantasy novel?”[/npc] Slimy scoffed before blinking. [npc=misc]“Who?”[/npc]

”Wahaha. Why Winslow from the book ‘Winslow Barthelowmew’s Insights and Tidbits: How to be a Pirate for Dum-Dums and Ding-Dongs’!” Orion brought out a gaudy leather book and waved it around.

[npc=misc]”Again, who?”[/npc]

”You don’t know Winslow Barthelowmew’s work? He sold nineteen copies!”

[npc=misc]”I don’t think that is a good thing.”[/npc]

”I have the collector’s edition.” Orion boasted as if that explained everything.
”So..”

[npc=misc]”So?”[/npc]

”Can I have my money back?”

[npc=misc]”Heh, nice try, punk. How would you learn your lesson without consequences?” [/npc]

”Tch..” Orion spun around on his bar stool, light green hair flowing with the motion. He rested his elbows on the bar and leaned back against it, taking in the rest of the dive.

Patrons sat about in small groups speaking quietly. An eclectic sort looking for a place to relax where anonymity was at the top of the menu. One group, larger than the rest, was growing rowdier by the second. Already, the red flush of alcohol decorated their faces and sneers of pride raised the octave of their voices.

[npc=pirt]“Bahahaha! You should have seen the look on that old shits’ face!”[/npc] One spoke up over the group, his most discernible feature being a crooked nose from a bad break.

Another chimed in, bald save the tattoo of a realistic brain on his head. ”Heehee… he crumbled once we got our hands on his daughter! Next thing you know, he was giving in to all our demands! Shame that. His daughter was quite the looker…”

[npc=pirt]”Bahaha! The boss will be pleased by the ship we bring him. It's more than enough for us to get off this trash heap!”[/npc]

[npc=pirt]”A toast to us!”[/npc]”Cheers!””Kampai!” The group collided their mugs together in a slosh of booze.

Orion quickly schooled the scowl growing across his face, and applied a thoughtful expression. ”So Winslow’s advice was correct after all…”

[npc=misc]”No, it really wasn’t.”[/npc] Slimy can't help but feel like he is getting caught up in Orion’s pace.

Orion shuffled himself off the barstool and collected his things. He fashioned a large metal umbrella–easily as tall as him–to his back from where it had rested against the bar and flashed ‘Slimy’ Jack a toothy smile.

”Thanks for the help, Slimes”

[npc=misc]”Don’t call me that..”[/npc]

”Always a pleasure, Slimes!”

[npc=misc]”We’ve never met before.”[/npc]

Orion just waved from over his shoulder.

Word Count:

The pallid-faced, sunken-eyed man strode down the streets of Spider Miles with a bleak intensity in his eyes; those who saw him walking by avoided him, he didn’t necessarily look like a criminal, but he looked sick and angry enough to steer well clear of. While he was happy to earn his next sack of berri, the morning sun’s orange gleam filtered through the city’s smog and stung his eyes; he far preferred the night, if there wasn’t work to be done he would have gladly slept in until the afternoon.

[I’ll see what I can find down in that trashed old bar crawl, but first…[i] Luka came upon the object of his ire, the door of Shin’s ramen shop, the man who had led him to being awake at this ungodly hour of [i]9AM. He knocked loudly on the door of the establishment, which opened at 10; as a close friend of the proprietor, Luka also knew that the man lived in the tenement above the shop.

“Open up Shin!” The stray dog shouted with atypical boisterousness as he pounded his fist against the door of the eatery.

Shuffling could be heard from behind the portal, along with the grumbling voice of the curmudgeonly noodle shop owner. After a few minutes, the shop’s front door creaked open, and Luka was met with the wrinkled, disgruntled face of Shin.

“Luka, what are you doing here? I have to open soon, is this about Santiago?”

“No! Well, kind of. Did you really have to send him over so early?!”

A moment of silence passed between the two. The shop owner contemplated how a poor man could be so entitled as to sleep in until noon every day.

Shin slammed his door in Luka’s face and slid the latch shut, going back to his opening routine as though the young nuisance hadn’t darkened his doorstep in the first place.

Luka grit his teeth, he would bear with the indignity of the morning, but only because there was money on the line. Quickly, the bounty hunter jaunted off of the old man’s stoop and began jogging towards the bar crawl, it was not long before he had reached the derelict little corner of dive bars and red lights.

He ventured into establishment after establishment, and was met with little help from their tenders…

“Get lost jackass!” The unfriendly inquisitive was kicked out of a rough and tumble bar, asking too many questions wasn’t looked kindly upon…

“What would my girls have to do with any of that young man? Now, either pay for a room or scram!” Luka backed away nervously from the buxom madam, and bumped into a young lady on his way out, his face going flush as he apologized and ran from the whorehouse…

[npc=pirt]“Get on outta here before I fuck you up kid!”[/npc] The gruff, gravelly-voiced owner of the portside bar stabbed a large and sharp-looking knife into his already well-scuffed countertop, and the bounty hunter very quickly realized that everybody around him was a pirate. He fled the scene before he could get himself too far in over his head.

He turned the streets over looking for a lead, until eventually, he came to a dimly lit cellar door that led into some grimy looking establishment.

Slimy’s Dime and Dive… Luka scoffed at the name of the place, … hell, at least they’re honest. But who the hell is Slimy?

Word Count:

Orion hadn’t really drawn any eyes as he moved himself closer to the brigands. For all the posturing they had been doing they were about as aware as a pile of rocks. He placed himself near the door at an unoccupied table close enough to hear them even listening. He rocked back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head with eyes closed in a sort of relaxed confidence, as if he hadn’t just swindled himself with Slimy.

Orion has never considered himself a beacon of justice. Most of the time, he was just getting by. He had to admit to himself he didn’t like what he had heard so far. He understood thieving. In Spider Miles that was just par for the course, but their methods left a sour taste in his mouth.

'It’s just another form of oppression.' Orion realized. They hadn’t earned it, the ship. Not really. Not through ingenuity, nor guile. They had used power. Orion had been at the receiving end of such power before, he didn’t care for it. No, he abhorred it.

His life so far had molded within him a sort of al la carte sense of ethics. His foster father Nato, a merchant by trade, lived in the transactional. The only altruism he’d ever seen was through Nato and how he treated Orion and his men. Orion didn’t believe he had the position or the power to provide the same.  

'So I take them down for the victim, and collect the ship as payment.' It wasn’t stealing, it wasn’t oppression, it was payment for services rendered. Purely transactional. If Nato had taught him anything it was that a man had to have a code. Orion felt this line of thought was the makings of his own.

Their voices broke Orion out of his pondering.

“I reckon we got time for another round before the kid reaches the boss and we gotta meet ‘em at our new ship.” Brainface, as Orion was dubbing him in his mind, stated.

[npc=pirt]“One round for you, maybe, with those little sips.”[/npc] BrokenNose jabbed.

“I have an alcohol sensitivity, you know that!”

[npc=pirt]“Bahahahaha”[/npc]

Word Count:

It was just then that the door of the establishment flung open, the pallid-faced intruder’s appearance carried with it the aura of unwelcome authority. For pirates, criminals, and ne’er-do-wells of all sorts, this guy seemed like he was bad news.

The ship thieves quickly settled down, quietly mean-mugging the man as he made his way toward Slimy’s bar. The turquoise-eyed man shot a glare back at the table before putting his hands down upon the bar, and asking in a somewhat loud and exasperated tone:

“You’re Slimy I presume? I’m looking into a matter concerning the recent robbery of a ship…”

The words echoed icy cold down through the rest of the room. The hottest-tempered amongst the pirates bit their tongue for the moment.

“... I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything regarding the matter?’

[npc=misc]“Listen guy, I don’t want any trouble. Would you mind taking your inquiry elsewhere?”[/npc] Slimy spoke nervously, eyeing the gun on the man’s belt and the knife stashed away into one of his boots.

“Yeah! And what’s it to ya punk?” One of the pirates stood up from the table and pointed aggressively toward Luka, his skull tattooed with a realistic brain, and his face clearly red from having consumed too much booze.

“I’ll try to minimize the damages…” Luka spoke casually to slimy, throwing a stack of Berri onto the table before shuffling through his stack of wanted posters and eventually settling upon one page in particular, “... yeah, I thought this dork looked familiar. Brainiac: Ramirez Y. Cofresí.”

“Hey! I heard that! Don’t dirty my name with whatever rumors you’re goin’ around lookin’ for jerkoff! Who the hell are you anyways?” The man drew a knife from his belt and pointed it towards the intruder.

“My name is Luka Tepes, and by the authority invested in me as a two-star bounty hunter, for the crimes of arson, murder, assault, theft and suspected grand larceny, you’re under arrest Cofresí!” Luka whipped his own knife out from his boot and was quick to engage the man in combat, there was no time to waste now that the cat was out of the bag. Luka sprinted toward the Cofresí, and spun his foot into a kick aimed at the man’s “brain” before standing back into a more conventional knife-fighting posture.

“Alright you little shit, you think we’re a bunch of no-name thugs you can just stomp your boot all over? I’ll kill you!” Brainiac took great pride in his tattoo, and was furious to see it sullied with the stamp of another man’s footprint.

Though Luka was a good fighter, it didn’t take long for “Brainface” and a couple of his goons to get the bounty hunter held up by his arms; from that point, it looked like it was gonna be a three-on-one assbeating for the cold-eyed investigator.

Cofresí quickly confirmed that suspicion, throwing a mean right hook into Luka’s kidney.

Word Count:

”Hit him Brainiac!” One of the lackey’s shouted in malicious glee.

[npc=pirt]”Hit ‘em again!”[/npc] BrokenNose didn’t feel the need to rise above the chaff.

”Yeah, hit him!” Orion chimed in from beside BrokenNose. These guys really weren’t aware.

[npc=pirt]”Eh?”[/npc] BrokenNose turned to stare at Orion, who in turn, stared blankly back.

”Eh?” Orion scratched his chin with a finger before grinning.  ”Add headbutt!”

Dome met nose in a crunch and scream. Orion quickly capitalized on the moment, sweeping out his umbrella like a blunt axe and smashing BrokenNose across the bar. Like skipping stones, he bounced before crashing into refurbished furniture and the farthest wall. To add insult to injury, a precariously balanced shelf dropped its payload of musty books and miscellaneous junk in a one-two-three combo.

Silence stilled the quickly escalating conflict and surprise paused it. All until Slimy’s voice echoed in the barren dive.

[npc=misc]”Goddamnit!”[/npc] Slimy expressed his severe displeasure only for Orion to wave him off, albeit with cheek.

”Put it on our tab, Slimes!”

[npc=misc]”TAB?! I don’t know either of you!” [/npc] Rage checkered his face, while his ever immaculately slimed pompadour started to ooze pomade like lava down a soon to erupt volcano.

Orion ignored Slimy’s exasperation with a parent’s patience towards a child’s tantrum. Humming, he completely pretended his anger wasn’t totally justified.

Orion took this moment to get a good look at this ‘bounty hunter’. He wasn’t sure what to make of this man, gaunt and pale but with a confidence that spoke of strength. He had waltzed in and had immediately caused chaos. Not Orion’s preferred method of chaos-making, but… game respects game. It also helped that this man seemed to have Orion’s new mark’s number and Nato had really enforced the idea of taking hold of any opportunity. Merchant-minded, he always said.

Orion reached his hand out to the man to help him to his feet, a toothy smile on his face.

“So… you got a name in that little collection of yours for that guy?” Orion thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the man slowly and staggeringly getting to his feet.

”The one whose nose looks like it lost a fight with a wall.” Orion explained. ”Oh! I get it now.”

Word Count:

Luka coughed up a mouthful of blood, looking to the man who had rescued him from worse damage; a single tear welled in the corner of the stray dog’s eye, perhaps from the pain of the internal damage he’d suffered, perhaps from the spark of camaraderie he felt toward the man who had freed him.

Unbeknownst to Luka, this teardrop was quite a fortunate one, as it streaked down his neck, all the way down to his torso where the tear’s healing properties were sufficient to nurse some of the trauma that had been dealt to the young man’s innards.

Though he heard the goofy-looking dude’s question, the bounty hunter didn’t have much time to give an answer before another one of Brainiac’s punches came flying down toward his head.

Just in the nick of time, the darkly-dressed man sidestepped the incoming strike and threw his own arm up into a defensive striking form, seeming to knock the man on his brain before the man went tumbling, cursing backwards:

“What’s your problem jackass? Do ya really gotta keep scuffing up the ink?!”

Luka looked to his new compatriot, speaking to the person he considered most important before turning his attention back to the riff-raff, “Yeah, the guy with the ugly face? Blackjaw, José Gaspar, another member of these guys’ gang: The Weird Science Pirates. He’s a cyborg, that’s about the most I can tell ya about him…”

Brainiac charged towards the pair with a knife, Luka drummed his hands on the holster of his revolver before, deciding it best not to use lethal force. The bounty hunter wrenched the knife out of the man’s hands, and threw the muscled drunkard back over his shoulder before kicking him in the skull.

The pirate, having fought through harsh battles in the proving grounds of the North Blue, caught his fall and immediately stood back up unphased, except his growing frustration with the ongoing disrespect of his tattoo,“You really think you twerps stand a chance against us? Even if you do win, you’ll make an enemy of Lord General Vernon for life! Touch my head again one more time and see what happens you little bastard!”

“... ugh, and do you have a way to deal with this guy? I’m not trying to start a gunfight. For a guy with a big target painted on his head you’d figure he wouldn’t complain so much, the thick-headed moron ought to be used to it by now.”

As soon as Orion was finished responding, “Brainface” appeared right in front of the two almost instantly, looming over the pair with a dark glint in his eye, “who’re you callin’ a moron little man? I’m a certified god damn genius.”

With this, Braniac slammed the two men’s heads together with great force. Luka lurched over, barely clinging to consciousness and struggling to regain his balance, bracing against one of the nearby tables.

Word Count:

Orion would never admit it, but he definitely passed out for a second with that head on collision. The world had lost its focus. He watched his vision go white at the edges and he could fill the pull of a fitful slumber…ba-dump…ba-dump…

Two heart beats, and then the world came screaming back with all the violence of a flashbang. Having your bell rung, as Orion can now confirm, does in fact come accompanied by a ringing.

As his eyes cleared and his surroundings came into crisp clarity once more, Orion took stock of the situation.

To his left; his new compatriot was stumbling and trying to right himself against a nearby table. Back turned and exposed. Orion had stumbled as well, but, perhaps, their differences in height had saved his course, leaving him in a better position to act.

Straight ahead; ‘Brainface. No. Cofresi, the bounty hunter, had called him. He deserved more of Orion’s attention now. That had been too dangerous, and if the man in question wasn’t so busy gloating over his new friend, Orion probably wouldn’t have had this moment to act.

”Heeheehee.. You pissants! You don’t have any respect! You know how painful it is to get a full skull tattoo?! That should be all you need to know… to NOT MESS WITH ME!” Cofresi was practically howling in glee as he stomped toward the bounty hunter. Even Orion had to admit that the Luka fellow really had earned his ire.

”Oi. Brainface!”

Brainiac Cofresi turned at the taunt. Whipcord muscle pulled taut as he exploded forward towards Orion, face promising extreme malice.  

”You just don’t learn…heeehee!”

Orion narrowed his eyes, ignoring the blood that slowly trickled down his brow. Oh, he definitely got hit harder than he thought.

He tensed. This was the tricky part.. He was still getting the timing.

“Yardsale Stance.”

Flourishing his umbrella in a gentle spin, he brought it to rest. Most of its heavy metallic bulk lay against the hardwood. Its canopy pulled closed. The umbrella seemed more like a large bo-staff at the moment and Orion would use it to full effect.

Shift and build, pushing with his mind like he had practiced so many times. He could feel the fruit’s power build on the edge of his awareness, almost like a sixth sense. The umbrella’s surface grew rough, and rougher, and rougher still

Now.

”Antique Collection… Obsidian Axe!”

Burst forward with strong thighs. Umbrella dragging, the friction of its surface wrending a great trench in the hardwoods as the metal grew red-hot from the clash of physical forces at work. Glowing like the embers of a raging flame, the haft of the irregular weapon sang of danger.

Orion was upon Brainaic now. He could see his own reflection in what remained of the polish of his cranium tattoo.

Stop, turn and reverse. Stop his momentum. Turn into the swing. Reverse the friction. Instantly he can feel the tension on his umbrella drop. His vertical swing, once weighed down by increased friction of his own making, now cut through the air–eerily quiet yet screaming hot. Frictionless, like the wickedly sharp edge of a mastercraft blade, the umbrella slashed into Cofresi from waist to clavicle, subsequently blowing him backwards in a shower of blood.

Orion forced himself to relax his stance, he twirled his umbrella as the blood slipped off without resistance before fastening it to his back in a clever application of friction.

[npc=misc]”Not the hardwoods!”[/npc]

Word Count:

The stray dog heard only the sound of something grinding roughly against hardwood followed by the sound of Cofresí’s screaming; one his faculties had returned to him, he looked to the bloody aftermath of the umbrella-fighter’s handiwork.

“Shit! Did you kill him? They’re worth more warm!” The bounty hunter cried, confused, concussed, and a bit distraught. Even ignoring his general preference for nonlethal takedowns, the difference between a dead body and a living suspect could be the difference between being able to afford running water or not for the month.

The two didn’t have long to moralize before their remaining problem made itself evident: standing back up from the wreckage, his arms segmented with fists dangling down from lengths of chain, Blackjaw, José Gaspar. The pirate began whirling his “arms” in large, sweeping circular motions, eventually gathering enough speed to destroy a table that stood in his way as he walked toward the enemies of his crew.

The splinters of the table flew back behind the man, as though they had been put through a woodchipper.

Suddenly, the cyborg wrenched his arm into a fixed position, and one of his flail-fists was set loose, flying toward Orion with inhuman momentum. The broken-nosed bastard smiled a wide and toothy grin as he swung to get his revenge on the little rat that had sent him tumbling across the bar.

As Luka saw the cyborg’s bludgeon flying through the air, he returned to full lucidity and tumbled up onto the nearby table, “alright asshole, let’s see how you like this!”

The bounty hunter had little way to contend with a cyborg in a fair fight, so he did what a cornered animal sometimes had to: he played dirty. Luka swept up a collection of glass-steins from the table and began hurling them down toward the arm that the cyborg was still swirling.

A spray of broken glass was sent flying through the air like a cascade of crystalline seaspray; what at first, almost looked beautiful, was shortly punctuated by the sounds of Gaspar’s agonized screaming.

[npc=pirt]“MY EYES! YOU DIRTY BASTARD! YOU SHREDDED MY EYES!”[/npc]

“You should have gotten them replaced. I guess now you’ll have to,” the cold-eyed man spoke with a callous and uncaring demeanor. Looking upon the results of his unconventional fighting with a bit of satisfaction; he’d hit the cyborg the one place it seemed to hurt. It was evident from the rest of the wounds that had been left all across Blackjaw that he was more metal than man, bits of armor shone through from beneath his torn skin.

[npc=pirt]“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW RARE AND EXPENSIVE CYBERNETIC EYE REPLACEMENTS ARE? I’M BLIND FOR LIFE MAN!”[/npc]

“Gurara-naru-naru!…” the stray dog barked out an uncontrollable cackle, smiling wide across his face before speaking back to Gaspar, “... sucks for you man.”

Word Count:

Squatting to the floor, Orion shook his unruly head of light-green hair. His unkempt hair fell about him in waves, with just enough tied back in a lazy pony to keep out of his steel-gray eyes. Eyes which were currently observing the cyborg writhing around in pain upon the ground like a snake with its head removed. In a sense, its head had been removed. Using the finial of his umbrella, Orion poked at the cyborg with all the curiosity of a child observing a jellyfish washed up to shore.

Poke. Poke.

”You’re a pretty brutal guy, huh?” Orion commented towards Luka, more a statement than a question, completely ignoring the fact he had also just partaken in this particular brand of chaos.

Poke. Poke.

Orion looked up at Luka, still standing upon the table from where he rained glassy destruction.

”Name’s Orion by the way. Orion Montgomery. Collector and Antiquarian by passion. Eccentric by choice.”  Orion bowed formally and smiled a friendly grin, his canines sharp enough to give him an almost hungry visage..

[npc=pirt]”Wahh… please stop. Whoever is poking me…please… Haven’t I suffered enough?”[/npc]

Poke. Poke.

”I’m assuming since you are carrying that book of faces you are after these guys. A bounty hunter, yes?”

[npc=pirt]”Whimper…stop the poking. My eyes. Poking. Eyes. Stop. Please.”[/npc]

Poke. Poke.

[npc=pirt]”GODDAMNIT! I SAID STOP!”[/npc] Despite being blinded, the haptic feedback of an umbrella on the cyborg’s metallic skin was enough for him to determine its location and smack it away with his mechanical amalgamation of a body.

”Rude.”

Orion was really tempted to poke him one more time. He definitely considered it, perhaps for far too long, before sighing and rising to his feet. He turned and once more leveled his gaze at Luka. All of his attention focused on the man. Friendly, casual, and relatively carefree despite standing within a center of violence, further, with bare feet on top of blood.

How anyone could be so blithe in such a situation spoke to a past gruesome enough where such a thing had become commonplace. Orion had long ago decided to not let such things weigh him down. Thinking about whether or not this particular brand of apathy would eventually catch up with him, well, that’s for the birds. And Orion hates birds.

”That’s perfect, honestly. I’ve been looking for these guys as well. That captain of theirs... Lord What's-their-face? Yeah… they have something that belongs to me.”

Word Count:

Luka was frustrated with the poor impression he’d obviously made on the man who had intervened in his beating, he never hoped to be known as a cruel man; but in situations like this, playing nice just couldn’t get the job done, he could only wish that he didn’t take so much pleasure in a job well done.

The black-haired man walked over to Orion, eyeing the downed Jose as the young man prodded at him, “Brutal…”

He supposed the characterization wasn’t too off-base. When he’d chucked those glasses at the cyborg’s whirling arm he hadn’t considered just how many chunks of crystal would wind up embedded in the guy’s face.

“... yeah I guess. I don’t have much of a way to deal with the cyborgs and monsters walking around all over the place, so I gotta work with what I got. Speaking of which, nifty little ability you got there; you’re lucky you didn’t get cursed to walk around looking like a giant duck all the time, you’re one of the normal lookin’ power users.”

Luka found the green-haired man’s power rather curious; though the stray dog didn’t exactly understand what the young man had been doing, he could tell that whatever it was allowed him to make use of a simple umbrella as a deadly weapon.

The stray dog was eager enough to have the man’s help on his mission, speaking to answer his newfound ally Orion’s question regarding the stack of papers he was carrying around, “Indeed. Call me Luka, I’m a bounty hunter, I’ve still got business with these assholes, and I still can’t tell if you killed one of ‘em…”

When the turquoise-eyed man heard that Orion had misplaced something with Lord General Vernon. He couldn’t tell if he was dragging a scoundrel into his work, but if the rest of the small-timers on the wanted posters were anything like the first ones he’d run across, he’d need all the help he could get.

“... alright Montgomery, if you’d like to get to the bottom of whatever business you have with these lowlifes follow me. I think we’ve caused more than enough trouble here, best take the gritty business back to the alleyway,” Luka put on a black glove before carefully dusting the man’s chest loose of glass, once he was confident enough that he wouldn’t injure himself in the process, the bounty hunter threw the cyborg pirate over his shoulder and began walking for the exit of the bar.

[npc=pirt]“Why’d it gotta be me?”[/npc] The now blind cyborg whimpered pathetically.

Before departing, Luka spoke a final word back to Slimy, “Consider my part of this covered. I apologize for the glassware, I hope what I gave you’ll cover it. As for the other guy, if he’s dead, I didn’t have any part in it.”

He wasn’t terribly confident in this. In all honesty, the place looked much more brutalized than any of the cash the poor man had cleared out of his wallet could have possibly covered.

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Orion watched the bounty hunter pick up the large cyborg, appendages dangling like a kite without string, in a casual display of strength that he wasn’t expecting from the thinner man. Shrugging at Luka’s actions, he laced his fingers together behind his head and followed the bounty hunter out of the dive and into the maze of alleyways that made up this section of Spider Miles.

In the absence of their departure, one spirit-broken bartender and owner stared at the wasteland of what was once their bar. What few patrons they had, had fled in the interim period of the earlier scuffle, none had been interested in the attention it would bring and sought their respite elsewhere.

The whole range of emotions warred across Slimy’s face before settling on defeat. Slimy could imagine a tumbleweed bouncing across the space.

[npc=misc]”What the actual fu–”[/npc]

Meanwhile, Orion had followed Luka towards an alleyway where he had unceremoniously dumped their captive to the ground, as battered as the cobblestones they fell upon. The alleyway was hidden from the main streets and any pedestrian traffic, Orion noted, and the large amounts of trash and factory debris would muffle any sounds. The man knew his trade well.

Orion stewed on Luka’s previous comments.

”If you are looking for a means…You should use an umbrella!” He brightened, his gray eyes glinting happily.

”Oh.. But then we would have to fight. It’s common sense that when two Umbrella Wielders meet, a battle of skills ensues.” Orion explained, dropping his fist into his palm while nodding.  

”As far as the fruit goes, I didn’t really have much of a choice. But you’re right… I’d rather die than be a flipping bird. Cats and snakes are cool though, natural bird hunters.”

Orion stared down at the pirate-borg leaning against the wall, whimpering to himself.

”How do you want to do this? I can’t say I have ever been on this side of the torture dynamic before. Torture-relationship? Torture-ship? Argh… that's gunna bug me.”

Orion subconsciously readjusted the long black scarf around his neck, the extra lengths streaming behind him. He caught himself and hoped Luka didn’t notice the causal movement that revealed the nail length scars covering his neck before the fabric buried them away again.

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“Hmm? Torture?” Luka looked down with cold eyes at the slumped ‘borg before turning his gaze back to orion.

“I think the guy’s suffered enough. At this point I doubt we’d get much out of him anyway. No, I have a preferred method for handling these matters…”

The bounty hunter walked up to the slumped man, and swiftly whipped his gun out of his belt, pointing it down at Jose’s head, “... listen bud, your poster says you’re wanted dead or alive, how do you want to do this?”

Now that he wasn’t within the walls of an establishment, Luka felt free enough to use his firearm. Though in truth, he was all but certain that he wouldn’t need to.

With a fearful, trembling voice, the brutalized pirate stammered out his response, [npc=pirt]“w-wait what?! No! P-p-please don’t kill me! What do you guys want?!”[/npc]

Luka narrowed his eyes with a hint of scrutiny as he looked back to his more rough-and-tumble compatriot, “Alright, Orion. You go first, what business did you have with these guys?”

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”Hrnnnnn…..” Orion centered his whole being on the cyborg.

[npc=pirt]”Sniffle..huck..huck..”[/npc]

”Oi! Robot Boy!” Orion called out in his best authoritative voice, as he lightly kicked the man’s boot to pull him out of his depressive spiral.  Oriel tried to channel Jeeves and the voice he used to relay orders to his foster father’s staff.

[npc=pirt]”Eeee!”[/npc] Their captive, for what it's worth, immediately came to attention at his voice.

”Where’s your captain?!” Orion asked, not at all stating his business.

[npc=pirt]”Snif…”[/npc] Through sniffles and tears, he replied in a broken manner.
[npc=pirt]”L..lllor…Lord General..V..vv...Vernon, he’ll be at our shi..ship. Dockhouse 5, Smog Pier.”[/npc] Spitting out those words, he grew quiet outside of the whining.

”Wow… that was easy! Nice job, Luka!” Orion flashed Luka a victory sign.

”Your turn, I guess?”  

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Luka furrowed his brow as the cyborg answered his newfound buddy’s question; Orion had asked the man just about everything that Luka needed to know, but he hadn’t given the bounty hunter any better of an idea of what exactly his business with these pirates was. He was growing more suspicious by the moment.

“Sure, alright Jose, one last thing. You all still have Santiago’s boat and his daughter, correct?”

[npc=pirt]“Y-yeah! The old guy? We’ve got the boat and his daughter, Vernon’s keeping everything down by that Dockhouse until we set sail!”[/npc] The cyborg was still jittery as he spoke, but once he’d finished giving this answer, Luka lowered his gun from the man’s temple.

“Alright Orion, I’m pretty sure I know the docks this guy is talking about. Can you go back into Slimy’s and grab that guy you might’ve killed, Brainiac? The bounty office is on the way down to those docks, help me carry that guy over and I’ll cut you some of the berri,” the stray dog rubbed his brow with his forefingers, he was frustrated at the money that was leaking out of his pockets at every turn this morning, but hopefully if he could bring the old man his boat back it would all be worth it.

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Orion smiled toothily and rubbed the back of his head at Luka’s words.

”Aw. Well, that is awfully kind of you Luka, but I think I am fine without the bounty. No need to cut away some of your profits for little old me. Wahahaha!” Orion laughed boisterously, slapping Luka’s back a bit too excitedly for it to be as gentle as Orion intended.

”I’ll be back faster than you can say– ‘birds are bastards.’” He put up a wave over his shoulder as he headed back towards Slimys.

---

Orion hummed to himself as he looked at the pirate resting against ‘Slimy’s Dime and Dive’ door. ‘Brainiac’ looked hastily thrown out of the bar, as they lay in a heap of limbs. A poorly scrawled note was stuck to his forehead, hiding the now thoroughly scuffed tattoo.

The note read:

[npc=misc]’You know who you are. DON’T COME BACK. You have made Slimy’s Shit List. Leave me and my happy place alone. AGAIN, DO NOT COME BACK!”[/npc]

”What a peculiar guy, that Slimy.” Orion shook his head and chuckled.

Orion decided to leave the note for Luka, and threw Brainiac over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He noted, once Brainiac rested on his shoulder that his body wasn’t cold, and he could feel the slight whisper of uneven breathing.

’What a tough guy. Should help out Luka at least.’ Orion repositioned the man on his shoulder and headed back towards Luka.

---

”Back! Did you say it?!”

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With the sharp impact to his back and Orion’s strange turn of phrase, Luka was set a bit off-balance as Orion went to grab Brainiac.

“Birds are bastards?...” Luka muttered the phrase to himself, “... what’s this guy’s problem with birds?” The bounty hunter was honestly a bit fond of the city’s birds, even though he'd had his head shat on by pigeons a couple times, the small murders of crows that sometimes flew the city’s streets were always a welcome sight.

As soon as he’d finished his sentence, the green-haired miscreant had returned as if appearing from thin air, with the unconscious body of Cofresí on his shoulders.

“I– I did say it yeah. Mostly because I’m confused…” now that the duo had apprehended their bounties, Luka began walking and leading the way toward the nearby bounty office, “... what’s the deal with birds? Why do you hate ‘em?”

Meanwhile, Down in the Dingy Dockhouses of Smog Pier

The boat rocked gently against the wood of the nearby docks; bound and held captive, the well-loved vessel almost seemed to be trying to sway away from its thieves, only being prevented from making its escape by the hempen ropes that kept it tied in place. The humble but full-featured fishing vessel carried a name fit for a galleon: the Santa Maria; Santiago had piloted many ships throughout his career as a fisherman, and she had been the culmination of his life’s work: a sturdy, reliable, and comfortable fishing boat.

But now his life’s work, as well as his adopted daughter, were all in the hands of low-life thugs.

Sofia sat in the warehouse, her limbs bound, and tied to a chair; her mouth remained unbound, only for the fact that if she screamed the General’s pirates would quickly silence and beat her. The hot-headed 19-year-old’s mind brewed with fiery proclamations of doom and hatred, but using all of her discretion, the redhead kept her mouth shut.

Still, Lord General Vernon von Voet could feel the girl’s hateful gaze on the back of his neck, the well-armored man turned back toward her; his massive cannon arm-replacement weighted his footsteps to the right as he ambled over to her chair.

“What’s the matter Sofie? Aren’t you excited? Once we’ve got your old man’s ship sold we can leave for the high seas, and you can be my Pirate Queen…” the middle-aged pirate ran his coarse fingers through the girl’s, and leaned in to whisper his next words into her ear, “... stealing little ships like your dad’s is just the beginning of my empire girlie. Our crew’s name, the Brotherhood of Victory, will be known and feared all across the North Blue.”

Sofia wasn’t going to put up with the old creep’s shit. And threw all of her weight into a sharp headbutt to the man’s chin, “I’ll never be your girl, you old slimeball!”

Vernon was sent reeling from the force of the girl’s rebellious attack.

But he was a pretty tough guy, physically at least; emotionally speaking, he certainly wasn’t above hitting a woman. Reeling back with his fleshier hand, the pirate captain slapped the girl hard enough that she and her chair were sent tumbling down to the ground. The impact mark of the man’s palm had imprinted itself well into the young lady’s pretty, freckled, face.

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