Trembling Ships: The Tale of a Raid [Plot/Invite]

[Blackwater]

“Mmm…that feels good,” Tang purred tenderly.

Something warm and pleasingly supple rubbed against his cheek. Tethered to the sleep world by a single thread Tang continued to enjoy the dream realm’s warm pleasantness while indulging the enticing feel of whatever object pressed against him. Afraid to open his eyes in case this tantalizing item was simply a figment of his imagination he allowed only his hands to scale its yielding surface and circumference before realizing that the soft thing also had a pulse. Crooning blissfully in his half-awake state Tang began to rub his cheek more fully into the sponginess that had become the center of his joy. Although by now all his senses had been roused he utilized only his nose and his fingers to explore this wonder, all the while praying that when he finally decided to open his eyes that the reality would be as wonderful as the expectation. Someone draped an arm over his chest, but he chose to dismiss the occurrence as happenstance while he began to shift his body closer towards the warm thing. Now he found lots of warmth meeting him. Velvety smoothness met his the caress of his hands and it seemed to wrap around him, responding to his attention as he sighed happily; where had the fabulous thing been hiding all his life?

Unable to contain his excitement anymore Tang cracked his eyes open…and found Callie laying on top of him. Perspiration poured from his every orifice as the anticipated blow to the head would render him unconscious as the athletic little girl jumped to her feet and screamed for aid against the perverted foreigner who had no shame. Please don’t smite me! I’m only a worm! he cried in his mind, but to his dismay Callie made no movements to belting him solidly in the noggin—in fact she didn’t move at all. Shifting slowly and slightly beneath her featherlike weight Tang realized that she was snoring. When their talk the previous night had ended, Tang had remembered struggling to stay awake for a time, but apparently he’d failed to keep her company. And she’d failed to make it to her room…

An evil grin crossed Tang’s face as his fingers took on a life of their own. Against his better judgment his pinky wormed its way to the waistline where a slim, yet noticeable crack revealed the frilly waist of underwear. Fangs dripping as he leaned further Tang allowed the slippery little digit to slide down a little further while sinful ecstasy spread through his being like a rolling fog. Now his other hand set to work and was about to raise Callie’s shirt over her head just enough for a gander at that well-shaped rump that he’d always thirsted to see. No, I shouldn’t do this, Tang argued internally, but his sinister hormones challenged his attempt at piety at every turn, forcing him to craftily sate the curiosity his young teenage mind had been harboring since before he’d parted ways with his family. Just a little peek won’t hurt. It’ll be educational…like a day at school. Yes, yes, that’s it. School. MUHAHAHAHAHA!

“ALL HANDS ON DECK!!” Quinlon’s voice boomed down into the cargo hold from above.

“Umu? Tang? What…”
“Ah…”

Silence prevailed in those precious heartbeats that Tang remained alive if just barely as embarrassment reddened his face to the color of a beet. His lips quivered as they sought to explain the current situation, but no words would come. Desperately seeking the calm of Bagua, Tang reached for inner peace and had almost reached it when fire blazed in a hand-shaped crater on the left side of his face, “PERVERT!!” Callie cried.

Twitching infrequently as he lay flat-backed on his bed, Tang watched as Callie disappeared up the stairs and weakly reached out towards her while darkness closed in on his vision, “For-forgive me…” he whimpered before passing out.

Minutes later he swayed uncertainly on the main deck, his exposed chest aching with black and blue bruises. His forehead housed a lump the size of an eggplant and throbbed like a veiny protrusion, but his pain was minute when placed in comparison with the vengefulness that Alice’s red-rimmed eyes glared in his direction; there would be more pummeling to come if he knew Alice as well as he believed he did. Clinging to her waist Callie’s tear-filled eyes were averted from meeting his though there was a curious smile on her face. Aside from the two women: Jack Dancer, Sam Greer, Quinlon Deveaux, and Mad-Dog all lounged on the main deck awaiting the reason for their summons. Feeling emboldened—or partially delirious from his most recent throttling Tang drifted to where the reclusive Jack was positioned and joined him in oppressive silence.

“Do…do you know what this is about—ack!—I mean, Jack-san?” Tang inquired grimly through the pain.

How had a day which had started off so well gone so wrong already?

[BEX]

“Do…do you know what this is about—ack!—I mean, Jack-san?”

Those footsteps which treaded with such weight in them. Such a heavy burden that creaked aged wood and befouled the air with the latent ambition that was harnessed within the heart of the brat. Jack hated the way the wind sounded as it passed by the boy. There was such yearning when it whistled past those brown locks and curved around the slight frame of a youth his fighting skill was less than admirable when compared to his own. What was this nervousness that set him ill at ease whenever Tang addressed him directly?

Invisible vipers snaked their bodies around the length of Jack’s skin, crawling over him with sickly patience leaving him teeming with sweat. Playing it off as best as he could the pirate let his eyes drift listlessly over the sea as the rhythmic bobbing of the ship carried away some of the tension with each subtle dip. “There’s a ship comin’; that’s what all the hubbub’s about?” he answered casually after a few seconds of silence.

In the background the meeting convened with the old man steering its course with a paternal authority that everyone acquiesced to. It was one of those rare moments where the vast depression that secluded him from the others on the ship vanished and an entirely different person was born in that unveiling. Jack would’ve liked to have known the old codger before he had given into his weakness.

Sonic eddies raced across leagues of clear blue water and were quickly imbibed into Jack’s being by the earphones. Another half-hour judging by the speed of the feedback and the approaching ship would be visible to the naked eye. Wait…how the hell can I distance just by how long it takes for the sound waves to reach me? Could…I do that before? The thought of advancement was so startling that when Alice touched his shoulder gently, Jack was visibly shaken though he quickly masked the emotion with his usual veneer of malice and dislike,

“Don’t sneak up on me. Ever,” he warned dangerously, his eyes narrowing with a murderous gleam to them. Unconsciously his hand fell to his side as if to stroke the waiting hilt of a sword, but only nothingness was at his waist. He direly needed a freaking sword. “What’s the verdict?”

Alice’s face was still sour, but her crimson eyes were latched onto the boy as opposed to Jack. The indignation of her expression made Jack curious about what could’ve taken place between them to have tarnished what had appeared to have been an inseparable friendship.

“Yo.”

“Gonna try sailing further north, hopefully we can outrun ‘em if they’re navy. Callie’s gonna get her head straight in a few minutes and get us movin’”

Venom leaked through her response, yet it remained directed at Tang who now that Jack examined him with a swift glance looked sheepish. Whatever the issue was the unspoken dialogue that circumvented his super-hearing was pissing him off and Jack made his point clear as his fist hammered down upon the wooden side of the ship, sending a cascade of splinters clattering upon the ground as all conversation ground to an abrupt halt, “Ain’t no runnin’ away,” he declared in a clear voice as he turned back to the sea, towards the direction the ship was coming from.

“If it’s the navy; we’re taken whatever supplies they got. If it’s anybody else—we’re still jackin’ that ship. We need money and supplies. Screw what you guys are talking about.”

The silence that followed was deafening as the implication of Jack’s words settled upon the motley group in a rolling wave. Callie was the first to recover from stupidity and her initial response was a heated glare in Jack’s direction. It would’ve been cute if she’d been a few years older. Hell, might’ve even been fun to break that feisty spirit, but she didn’t have any of the curves Alice did and she seemed twice as annoying. Joining the little blond crusader was the naysaying beggars whose patched clothing had been worn down to their barest threads. Seams had come undone in the humid downpour of sun and sea moisture, but the pompous fool refused to accept clothing that as he claimed was ‘stolen goods’. That self-righteous sneer that he bore on his dark face was enough to make a body want to rampage, but a sinking ship was no place for one cursed with the power of the Devil.

Pointedly ignoring the hard stares he was getting, Jack looked east where the expanse of the sea seemed endless. Somehow it was calming to know that all the hatred that world could muster would never be more than a minor blimp on the scale when it came to all that the universe encompassed. Again he found his appreciation for the freedom and scope of nature growing. “There’s not a lot of places we can stay in the Blues. I’ve been here before, I know how they work. Getting supplies needs to be our first priority else we’re dead.”

The melodramatic pause that came before his next words was filled with expectation and for a moment Jack was certain that the others were waiting for him to say them. So be it, he’d never shirked from a challenge and he wasn’t about to start now.

“After we get these supplies and y’all wanna leave then be my guest. I’ll dump ya at the next port.”

[Blackwater]

Before anyone else reply to Jack’s offer Tang was saying the word that had come directly from the depths of his heart, “No. We cannot leave yet.”

All the attention that had been directed towards the vagrant ex-pirate now fell upon him and the uncomfortable dislike that burned in Alice’s hellfire colored eyes felt intensified by a thousand-fold as he stood uncertainly at the center of that focus, “I know I’m speaking mostly for myself, but I did not help Dancer-san escape a naval base so that I could be safely discarded after all was said and done. If that was the case we would have all gone our separate ways at the Dry Docks and never had to put up with one another ever again.”

At first the words came unsurely and many times Tang found his tongue fumbling for what to say, but as he continued to gain momentum his legs carried him amidst the close-knit group that had become something of a family to him. When he met the eyes of a particular individual he searched them to see if his words had taken hold and in each case they had; these people had left for a diverse number of reasons, but at the core of it—the simple truth was that none of them were built for a life of complacent simplicity. When he had finished wading through his audience Tang stood with his back towards the group, beholding the looming mainmast which cast its very long shadow over the deck and into the sea beyond the vessel itself. That’s how he wanted to feel; larger than the vessel that fate had given him.

“We’re going to raid that ship as Jack-san suggests,” Tang continued confidently without turning towards the rest of them. Hiding the grimace of pain as he folded his hands behind his back he squared his shoulders bravely and hoped that the façade would instill in them the desire to take a chance at something other than preserving their hides. “When that’s completed I too have a journey I wish to take and…I would like you all to come with me.”

Suspicion lurked in many eyes when he turned around and Tang felt deflated as he began to question whether he should’ve been so bold as to believe that everyone would just fall in line with his well-orated suggestions. People, as his father had taught him, were moved by tangible things and feelings. A man did not lift his hand unless he was reaching for something desirable above and he did not run unless danger forced him to move with purpose. Bandages covered half his body and the bruises still ached him, but raw determination coursed through Tang’s veins as he scoured each person with a defiant glance even holding Alice’s wrathful glare for more than few precious heartbeats. All of which he was certain she’d beat out of him later. As the moment came and passed a transformation slowly set over the group. Stony expressions gave way to wistful smiles and grudges slowly melted away to the enlivening sense of adventure that moved like a spirit through the ship. He’d done it. Everyone was united towards a singular purpose.

Impulsively he lifted his arm towards Jack, fingers stretched wide as they extended in five different directions. That battle yesterday had broken him in a way that he’d not quite understood until this moment. After suffering a lifetime of defeats and laboring under pretentious goals to become something significant Tang finally began to grasp the concept of conviction. It had been that temperament of die-hardness that had drawn him to the wild-eyed man standing before him. While he was the son of a tiger, Tang was little more than a soft sheep pretending to be draped in wolf’s skin. Now as his fingers were closing into something formative, something with a definitive purpose in mind he could see the circle of fate that he had to break through in order to attain enlightenment. All his life he had wanted ‘Power’ without truly understanding it. Strength was not simply the ability to overcome one’s enemies. Strength was not the ability to overcome one’s weaknesses and achieve self-mastery. Veins crept along the muscles of his forearms as his skin glowed in the sunlight overhead. The expression on Tang’s face felt foreign and yet distantly familiar all the same.

His fist extended in Jack’s direction as a declaration of what he wanted to achieve most: he wanted the overwhelming power that won battles without him ever having to lift a finger to fight.

That was the power of the ‘True Warrior’ and Tang would do anything to achieve it. Even if it meant facing Jack for the right to bear that honor.

[BEX]

The brat’s words were indeed mood-changing. Faces which had been disconcerted with Jack’s ruthless proposal to plunder a boat without knowing who was aboard now turned hopeful at the deluded dreams of self-glorification that they had harbored quietly when they’d saved him from B-2. Disgust didn’t begin to describe Jack’s feelings as watched their selfishness stew to the surface before culminating in a depraved mixture of false bravery and hope. Again the absence of a blade grated on his nerves as he watched the crew of the trade ship begin to chatter excitably amongst one another; he’d have cut them all down if he could, but there was nothing for it.

“First thing’s first,” Jack began expertly, demanding their consideration as stalked amongst them with sinister ploys taking fruition in his mind. This was one of the few areas where their book smarts or kind hearts would serve them poorly. His gaze fell upon the boy’s fist that was aimed in his direction. Something about the symbolic statement behind that gesture penetrated Jack deeply, but he continued speaking as though he’d hardly noticed it, “This ain’t like raiding a marine base. On the sea on slip up takes everyone a thousand leagues deep with little chance of surviving. And lemme explain something to you all…”

Adrenaline began pumping before he’d realized it and the aching desire to see his old running buddies, the Dancing Blade pirates came to him again. Licking his lips hungrily Jack chuckled, his shoulders quaking with the force of his mirth, but it was like a bad joke that kept on being repeated until it eventually became funny. Craning his neck he fixed everyone with a look so intense that even the big oaf stepped back from it,

“Anyone screws up and I’ll sell yer asses down the river, got it? One slip and I’ll have no trouble guttin you myself to stay alive.”

Various ranges of fear streaked across dainty features and the civilians who had been so willing to take part in this grand adventure slowly began to comprehend the man that they had entrusted themselves too; Jack was no hero—he was a survivor. The next hour was spent solemnly making preparations for their ‘company’. Barrels of gunpowder were harvested from the cargo hold and the few firearms that had been found on board when to Alice and Quinlon—the ones who would likely need them. The big man, Jack busied with the task of dropping anchor so that it would appear that their ship was stuck at sea; a damsel distress always drew the wolves.

Soon the ship was alive with the song of barely contained apprehension. The creak of wood beneath everyone’s feet told tales of their distrust for him and every now and then Jack would catch a wayward glance in his direction, eyes holding accusation in them before they turned away hoping that he hadn’t seen through their feelings. Running a hand through the bristling fibers of his facial hair as the plan began take form in the scurrying inhabitants of the ship, his gaze lifted to the wavering waters in the distance were black form with sails fully blooming with the rush of air at its back began to raced towards them. Like lambs to a slaughter Jack thought gleefully.

A good deal of time had passed since he’d raided a ship, but the recognizable slickness of sweat on his fingers grounded him in a comforting way. “Hey!” he called down to Alice who was working laboriously alongside Callie to load the containerized gunpowder into the lifeboat that waited alongside their ship.

The only mar in this nostalgia lay in the hurt that was housed in Alice’s expression. Whenever she pouted Jack felt a guilt that shouldn’t have been there stab in his heart so when she responded with an uncharacteristic meekness it unnerved him and made him question what exactly he was getting this people involved in. At heart, these people weren’t criminals. They had never done anything wrong until they saved him on a mere whim; they didn’t deserve this…

Was what he should have thought.

A soon his misgivings took root Jack washed them away in a wave of cold indifference as his resolve to take his place in the world fostered the inner strength needed to make use of every available resource. This was where it would begin,

“Make sure when they board the ship nobody jumps the gun. That little bit of advice might keep alive so listen to it.”

[Blackwater]

Lost in the mindless motion of the work, everyone quieted their minds to the contract that they’d just signed with the devil himself. Jack’s proclamation had shaken the others visibly and as they set out fulfilling his demands Tang could see the dejection bearing down on their happiness like a dark cloud. At his side Callie worked quietly, her golden spools of hair gracing her neck elegantly while at the same time framing her apple-shaped head. Not being particularly fond of menial labor Tang had decided to aid Callie in the task of fishing out every ounce of gunpowder from the cargo hold and transporting them to the main deck where the others placed them on the waiting lifeboat. Rooting around through the musty stench mixed with the aromas of spices and other foreign goods likely to fetch high prices in the Pirate’s Market at South Blue, Tang warred with himself as to what method he should use to apologize to the girl he’d wronged.

“All my life I thought that I wanted adventure. To sail on a ship and be that person that everyone looked too…”

The sudden admittance of her motives left Tang wary of any response so instead he chose silence and continued to pretend searching for more crates. “Do you know why I was considered part of ‘the Nine’ back at home? Did you ever wonder why a little girl of sixteen was looked up to by elders and peers twice her age?”

Amidst the rocking of the boat and the gentle, yet audible groan of wood around them the sound of her teardrops spelunking rang odiously in Tang’s ears. Before he truly fathomed what he was doing he crossed the space separating them with deft leaps and scampers that carried him over any number of oblong shaped objects; all so he could reach her. When they met and his arms cradled her gently in their grasp Tang allowed his head to drop so that his chin touched the top of her head. Has there ever been hair so soft? he wondered serenely to himself. This time as the warmth of their skin connected them he felt no ill-bred hormones calling for him to perform lewd research into her anatomy. Now there was only the care for drying those eyes which had always been symbolic of clear, blue waters. Completely transparent and free-flowing. It was water that granted life to all things.

“Callie…” Tang started to say, but the words jammed at the base of his throat as an extraneous notion took hold in his mind. “I just thought of something.”

“Huh? What?”

“I’ll be back.”

Driven by a dangerous curiosity, the kind of questioning that more often than not shortened one’s life expectancy Tang climbed back into the daylight. He didn’t need to look hard to spot Jack. The man stood like a colossus as he surveyed the drudgery of everyone’s labors on his behalf. Oddly that didn’t grate Tang’s nerves in the least. Approaching the stairwell leading to Captain’s Cabin he made an odd inquiry given the situation, but one he sincerely believed required answering, “Um, Jack-san? Why don’t you just assault the ship when it gets near? Your strength should be more than enough for anyone.”

Suddenly what had been meant to be a private conversation became a public affair which held the interest of everyone aboard. Even Callie’s golden-haired crown peeped up through the ladder-stairs leading down to the cargo hold. Somehow with everyone’s eyes upon him, Tang didn’t believe Jack would take kindly to the apparent questioning of his authority and when that man didn’t like something things usually became violent. Introverted, Tang wept for the heaping helping of pain he was likely in for. His bruises from Alice’s flogging hadn’t quite healed either. The path of the warrior really is a difficult one…

[BEX]

“Ah…well that is…”

For someone who had sailed into the Grand Line once before and held a bounty of nearly one hundred million beli, it was more than a little disconcerting to be forced into admitting to have such a glaring weakness. Damn that little shit! What the hell is he tryin’ to do?! Make me look bad?! Now not only the boy stared inquisitively up at him, but the rest of the gang slowly took up interest in why Jack was hesitating. He could feel his eye twitching as it did whenever he was tense, but the absence of a right eye made the nervous tic nearly imperceptible—he hoped.

Screw this, I don’t have a damn thing to be ashamed of! Fed up and cornered by those leering eyes Jack drew a deep breath. Somehow with his chest sticking out and vague outlines of his exposed arms’ muscles made him feel a little manlier about the situation. It wasn’t much, but he’d take any victory that he could get. “If I fight and I use my power, I’ll wreck everything and we’ll sink…and I’m…I mean I never learned how to swim. That’s why.”

The silence stretched invasively and the tiny trickles of perspiration that snaked down Jack’s back made more noise than the living, breathing people watching him with stunned expressions on their faces. Coughing into his hand he tried to play the awkwardness of the moment of; damn what he wouldn’t give a sword to wave around intimidatingly right about now.

“Anyway, it’s no big deal. All ya gotta do i—”
“—so all this is because you can’t control your powers and you can’t swim. Am I correct?” the beggar interrupted snidely. Though his expression was innocent Jack’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and considered the multitude of directions the conversation could take.

“Nah, I never really learned how to hold back is all. I figure why should I?” he retorted with a nonchalant shrug.

“Lame…”
“Say what?”

“Well if that don’t sound like the biggest load o’ horse crap I dun heard in all my years…” the old man sighed as the vibe of the ship went from submissive acquiescence to flagrant disregard.

“To think that we were actually afraid of a man who can’t even control his own voice—or swim for that matter. Should we start calling you Monsieur Boom-Boom? Hmm…yes that has a nice ring to it. Bonjour, Monsieur Boom-Boom!”

Purple with rage Jack struggled to endure the group’s diverse number of salutations for the newly dubbed Monsieur Boom-Boom. Splinters bit into his fingers as they raked into the banister that coincidently preserved the lives of these addle-brained civilians; it was the only thing that kept Jack from flinging himself at them in a wild frenzy. Their target wasn’t far away and these morons were cracking jokes about his ineptitude. I can frickin’ control my power if wanted to. I can…I just choose not to. Somehow even the internal arguments with himself proved to be less than convincing as he elevated above the working crew of hands, his pride irreparably wounded by their remarks. Eventually his indignation faded away leaving his thoughts to be occupied with more serious matters like jacking him a fresh blade and charting out what his next move would be. He’d need money for that. It had been his main reason for suggesting the raid in the first place.

He hadn’t noticed the low drum of Alice’s heartbeat until it was right next to him and she was looping her arm impishly over his shoulder. “Aw, they hurt yer feelins’ Monsieur Boo—”

“Finish that sentence and I swear I’ll pick yer eyes out with my fingers,” Jack cut in moodily.

Alice answered him with a simple laugh that echoed into the clouds above until it tickled the heavens with its mirth. Grumpy about a lot things, Jack grunted in the face of her joy, refusing to let its infectious nature infect his foul temperament. Tugging at an errant thread from his shirt he contemplated the dark mass that was slowly moving towards their boat. Dark flags with a unique arranged skull and crossbones, flanked by a pair of revolvers on either side distinguished the boat from any number of other possibilities. At that sight a small smirk played on Jack’s lips as he marked the vessel for what it truly was. A pirate ship.

[Blackwater]

In truth it hadn’t been Tang’s intent for Jack to be so brazenly embarrassed, but the high spirits of everyone else eventually wore away his preliminary feelings of guilt until he was fighting tears of laughter with the rest of them. All animosity which had been bred by Jack’s foreboding and dominating presence evaporated like a fine mist of sea spray lingering in the sunlight for a moment longer before vanishing. Sharing that instance of happiness worked wonders for the general feeling of the ship and it wasn’t long before all the tasks were nearing completion. The last crate of gunpowder had been filtered into an empty barrel and loaded into the life boat while all other tasks were handled expertly by the others.

Tang hadn’t expected these people who were unused to doing things in the morally gray spectrum of what was right and wrong to feel so at ease. Quinlon and Sam were in private discussion, but the happy creases of their faces made them appear younger than they really were. It was especially heartening to see Sam removed from the pits of his depression. Even if it was only temporary Tang was loathe to take these few precious moments of relief from him. Mad-Dog stood at the bow, his thickly muscled arms extended on either side of him and his tongue lolling about giving him the appearance of a canine at play. Solidarity in every form was present on the standstill sea vessel and though he reveled in its wondrous harmony Tang’s more practical side wondered how long the euphoria would last. His expression darkened as the ship which had been little more than a black speck when the sun had been reaching its zenith now loomed menacingly as midday passed and evening fast approached. Cool winds raced across the waters in the approaching ship’s wake and an ill-fated premonition flashed through Tang’s thoughts as he slipped into a loose hanging shirt.

For the time being he allowed the poor fitting of the clothes take his mind off of what was to come next. Lamenting clandestinely he longed for when they would return to land so that he would be able to find styles similar to those found on Karate Island, his home. It appeared others in South Blue had clashing tastes with his countrymen, favoring thick coats to keep out the bitter cold in the southern rim areas while the hotter northern regions of the Blue believed in scanty strips of linen that barely covered one’s flesh. Folding the sleeves of the too-large cotton shirt he examined the sight of Jack and Alice together. They had been inseparable since the first night of Jack’s escape and the friendship which had been brewing into something great between Tang and Alice had never truly recovered from the blow. Swallowing the knot of jealously in his throat and seeking the peace of Bagua, Tang fixed his collar and joined Mad-Dog at the bow. Blue-green water lapped onto the decks as increasingly frenetic waves rammed into their stationary boat. At this distance everyone could make out the flapping pirates flag housing an emblematic skull and crossbones in-between two firearms that seemed to be smoking at the barrels. It took careful observation to realize that the smokestack was coming from the ship itself and not simply part of the flag’s design, but the effect was evident.

All the side-conversations which until that point had been carried peacefully amongst the parties ground to a halt as all eyes took in the sight of the approaching shop. Folding hands behind his back Tang noted that he’d unconsciously set his feet into a fighting stance and smiled at the innate preparedness of his senses. Where anxiety should’ve taken hold in his heart, he felt ecstatic about another chance to prove how strong he’d become. Not to Jack, not to Mad-Dog or Callie or even to Alice. This was for him. Here against these nefarious seafarers he would be given the opportunity to place his life on the line for those that he cared for, but the focus wasn’t quite upon protecting their lives. In his mind Tang never doubted that everyone aboard was safe. They had a fighting demi-god on their side.

More so he was curious to measure the distance that remained between himself and Jack. Mad-Dog had once stood before him like a mythical figure. The way the large man fought had produced feelings of inadequacy and longing in Tang. Now that he equaled the man in skill and strength those desires hadn’t disappeared. If anything they’d deepened. A tremor passed through him and he released a ragged breath that drew a look from Mad-Dog, but Tang didn’t spare a moment of his time looking away from his latest trial. Here, his fists would be baptized with a new resolve. The serpent called fear coiled around his limbs as it always did before a fight, but this time he welcomed its hold on him as a challenge.

On this day he would throw away all his self-doubt and reach one step further to matching strides with his father and brother.

[BEX]

Once the proper provisions were finalized Jack spoke with each individual highlighting their roles in the ploy to rob the sorry mofos drifting towards them blind. Surprisingly it had been the little blond lass, Callie, who had been the most eager to get the undertaking underway. Her giddy excitement had been enough to sour Jack’s relatively good mood after Alice and he had shared a brief moment of ‘privacy’ within the cabin.

“Alright. Remember: don’t act scared. Don’t go startin’ fights. Most importantly—don’t get yer asses killed.” Jack reviewed perfunctorily as he hoisted a burlap sack over his shoulders. The jangle of metal clinking against metal rang like a chime in his ears, but he ignored the discomfort to give the gathered group a serious look, “I don’t wanna come back to this ship and have to sail this crap by myself. That’s the only reason I’m saying that.”

“Hmmm? Is that so, Monsieur Boom-Boom? There’s no other reason?” the pauper asked smilingly. His eyes shimmered with the mischievous glow of someone about to say something stupid.

In a continue stream of motion Jack dropped the satchel, strode over to the dark-skinned mongrel, and hoisted him into the air by the throat. Around him the barely stifled gasps that escaped beneath the others breaths was drawn into his being by the power of the Doka Doka. Some whispered of his vulgarity and fueled by those words Jack tightened his hold on the man’s neck, “Quit screwin’ around! We all have some shit that we’re fighting for here. Don’t think that it all can’t be taken away in a second.”

With a disgusted scoff Jack let go. Quinlon crumbled to the floor in a spluttering heap of filthy humanity. The stench of him filling Jack’s nose as he turned away, but his eyes smoldered with barely checked anger and as he climbed down towards the lifeboat haunting the ship’s shadow he held on to that anger, oblivious to the thunderous cacophony of terror that he’d instilled into the people above. As his hands adjusted to each of the ladder’s rungs he tried to focus on anything other than their pounding hearts. Slimy sea barnacles lathered his hands with a filmy foam that made squelching noises each time they came into contact with an object, but Jack paid it no mind. Dropping the remaining feet down into the small dinghy laden with explosive gunpowder he exhaled deeply in these fleeting moments of peace.

It would only be a few more minutes before the pirate ship docked them and the others would be delaying the men that came aboard until Jack could paddle around to load the gunpowder barrels onto the other ship without being noticed. Despite his words trepidation made his forehead moist and he growled at feeling worried about the others, but he’d known the risks associated with involving civilians with this sordid business. Alice’s face loomed brightly in his thoughts. The way her red hair fell to the side when she lay her head on his chest at night haunted him like a restless spirit. Securing the drums to the lifeboat he reached for the oar that had been thrown down for him earlier and slumped into the tiny space afforded to him on the crowded little boat.

Above foreign voices called to the others on the ship. Loud laughter accompanied by crude comments about the quality of women announced the arrival of the pirates. The sound of a trigger clicking set Jack’s heart racing as excitement burned through his system. Gripping his hands tightly in one another he waited for the signal. Here in the shade of the ship—they’d have to come up with a name for it soon—the air was cool and the waters appeared calmer than the livelier waves that rammed into the hull on the other side.

Adrift in that isolation Jack steeled his nerves as he heard the little blonde’s peevish voice ring loudly over the edge of the boat, “We’re not here to start trouble; do yourself a favor and leave.”

“Che. Brave little chit,” he commented as he slowly placed the oar’s head into the water.

He’d told her to sell that foolhardy boldness that would entice lowly pirates like these into staying aboard by adding attitude. Without seeing it he sensed the smack of the small girl’s teeth, the registering of her disrespect by the pirates, and the barely suppressed exhales of surprise from the others. The brat probably won’t forgive me for puttin’ his girl in danger, he reflected. Left only with the company of his thoughts and the sounds of tenuous situation taking place aboard the trade-ship, Jack paddled slowly through the stagnant waters that no longer represented the same beauty that they had when he had marveled at them from afar. Up close the sea smelled like rotted fish and driftwood. As in life, everything was an illusion for an uglier truth.

For some reason that lesson urged his paddling to quicken as he thanked Alice in the quietness of his heart for his new haircut. With only one good eye he couldn’t afford to worry about unkempt tassels of hair disrupting his vision.

[Blackwater]

Tang’s outward appeared exuded calm flippancy. Currently he lounged near the captain’s cabin door with his back leaning against the rough-grained wood as the ‘guest’ arrived on the boat. As Jack had predicted the men were vulgar, self-confident creatures. From the moment their feet set on the boat Tang and the others commandeered they had been insulting—specifically towards the women and Quinlon. Although she had remained steadfast in her roll the wild look gathered strength in Alice’s eye was enough reason to worry. One of the men, a tall brute with gaps in his smile and a bald head had been so daring as to take a handful of Alice’s buttocks in swift feel. Had Quinlon not voiced his disdain for that sort of behavior Tang was certain that Alice would’ve gone on the offensive and Jack’s plan would’ve have been ruined. With Jack overboard the clock had started ticking on how long the pirates could be persuaded to remain off their own sea vessel though from the hungry way that they were examining Callie and Alice it would take very little persuasion to have them stay.

The eight men made for a small pirate group, but scars lined their faces and bodies like a story carved directly into their skin. Undoubtedly they were among the rougher n’er-do-wells that loitered about the South Blue. Pointedly avoiding looking at how Callie simpered teasingly with one of the younger men, Tang focused upon their leader. No one had made any allusions to the person’s status, but the arrogant poise that he carried himself with was impossible to ignore. While the others feasted their eyes upon the women this man with his handsome face and sculpted chiseled features hidden beneath folds of magnificent clothing hung back to study the deck for potential threats. He’s strong. There was no proof of this opinion, but the truth of it penetrated Tang like an arrow. His warrior’s spirit hadn’t quickened for any of the others as it now did when he locked eyes with this unassuming stranger whose stature and weaponry branded him as a superior fighting. Before he realized it an impudent smile stretched across his face and while it only lasted a brief moment it had been enough to garner unwanted attention.

“Something funny, pretty boy?” hissed a voice that was dangerously close.

Slowly Tang looked above him and found the ninth man’s legs dangling over the edge of the cabin’s rooftop. A threateningly sharp knife’s edge glittered as the fellow raised it to the bridge of his beak-shaped nose. “You been eyeing our Captain there for some time now. You got something you wanna say to him or maybe you just fancy his good looks. The Captain’s got a soft spot for pretty boys yunno,” the pirate said slyly before dropping from the rooftop and onto the platform where Tang was positioned. “What about it? You feeling like you need get something off your chest?”

Now Tang could hear the thump of his heart drumming in his ears. He’d worn a fitted white shirt with its buttons opened and pants that were relatively loose in case he needed to fight. The necessity for flexibility and movement pushed him to avoid wearing shoes so faced the man barefooted. Already his mind’s eye had separated the various sections of the body that would illicit the greatest pain responses while discerning which when struck properly would inflict an optimal amount of internal damage. Unbeknownst to him, this poor fool had stepped into Tang’s range of attack and he was full of openings. Careful not to give away his advantage Tang shrugged coolly, his eyes narrowed as the sun bore down on them from above. All conversation on the main deck had stopped, but Tang had heard Callie give the signal which meant that Jack was already on the move.

The tension rose until it boiled Tang’s blood, but outwardly he shook his head slowly,

“I have nothing to say to you people. If you’re going to loot the ship then do so and leave me in peace; I refuse to concern myself with the likes of you.”

The words hung in the air as stunned silence presided over the standstill ships. Just meters away the schooner that the pirates had docked beside the merchant vessel bobbed with each wave, its jolly roger snapped violently as the South Blue headwinds raced in one direction and then next. Varying degrees of shock came into the man’s expression, but like a hardened veteran of combat his body language remained…ready. It was a testament to his skill as a fighter and Tang vowed to give him and the leader honor should the need to battle arise.

Jack-san, hurry. I don’t know how much longer we can hold these people without causing a riot.

[BEX]

Painfully slow Jack’s boat bounced on the unctuous waves whose once clear transparency had been mired in dark reflections of the blackening sky above. The distinct twang of salt on his tongue made the drawn-out journey to the far side of the pirate’s sea craft even more unbearable than the sluggish progress itself. Ever since he’d consumed the Doka Doka no Mi, Jack’s palette had never been able to deal particularly when salt came into a direct contact with it. Of course he would eat a fine free meal when one was offered, but if the option was given he now preferred lightly salted as opposed to the generous application that most believed ‘livened’ up the taste of the meal.

Agitated and stiff he waited a few more minutes as the impetuous current drew him close enough to anchor the grappling hook one of the others had found while rifling through the merchant’s things. Paying careful attention to the tide of the conversation aboard he timed his swing with the burst of conversation that erupted immediately after the brat began mouthing off. Cringing as the soft iron hook bit into the darkened wood Jack waited quietly as the only silence available at sea was always tainted with the interference of crashing waves, bellowing sea creatures in the distance, and the groan of driftwood from ancient sinkers. When no cries of alarm rose he breathed a sigh relief and began to the arduous scale up the length of the smooth sided ship’s hull.

Days of his youthful delinquency returned slowly to him as the slow-burning pain spread through his muscles with every minute that passed. Vaulting onto the main deck might have been easily achieved, but the plan demanded that absolutely covertness be exercised when boarding the uninhabited vessel so Jack strained against gravity and his mortality, clenching his teeth as thick lines of muscles leapt from beneath his skin like vipers. In those sterilized moments when the world was a purely instinctual struggle against the elements, the cathartic tunes of the world began to funnel into him dimly at first, but its strength becoming more noticeable as he drew to the top.

Halfway through his climb his eye began to ach. Pain rolled through his nervous system in a series of timed pulses that held to a cadence he didn’t understand. Gripping the rough fibers of the rope in powerful hands—warrior’s hands—he dangled above waters which lapped up against the ship, hungrily waiting to devour one who bore the power of the Devil himself. Move. Move, damn you! he cursed himself. His hands were the first to respond, their twitching response to his intent harkening the rest of him to follow suite and before the torturous surge of agony had passed he was moving again. Thinking on it after the fact, Jack realized that the moment had been a microcosm of his entire life. Precious seconds wasted dealing with wounds inflicted by others in moments of weakness. Like ghosts those pains which had seared their way into his heart and body would haunt him forever, never ceasing to drag him into the depths of hell to join those that he’d cast into the abyss.

“Not today, you ain’t,” he breathed defiantly while creeping over the side of the ship onto the deck.

Sweat lathered his limbs and weakly he dropped to all fours, the soft thud of his fall wrapped into the greater cacophony of noises surrounding him. As always he suffered his fatigue and pain alone, bearing it without the slightest squeal. Hair matted to his forehead his eyes lifted to quickly assess the deck’s security and found that his prediction had been brilliant accurate; all the pirates had rushed at the opportunity to board a stranded ship—like idiots. Chuckling at his good fortunate he shook away the weariness and willed himself to his feet, his strength returning with the success of his scheme.

With the gunpowder tethered to the boat by the grappling hook he needed only to find the treasure and lit the explosives leaving the poor bastards marooned on a boat with Jack Dancer. In the dim light of sundown his teeth flashed in a menacing smile as he began scouring the ship for signs of his objective; at least something good from all his careful planning, “Should probably find a damn sword too while I’m at it.”

[Blackwater]

Everyone’s pleading eyes begged him to stop, to abandon this mad attempt at bravado that would likely get them all killed without Jack aboard, but he felt…good. Something majestic and ethereal had descended from heaven binding itself to the world, but more specifically latching on to Tang. Words fell far short of capable for describing the feeling of connectivity granted by this immense harmony with the world around him. Suddenly this pirate whose knife’s edge had glinted with a flesh-craving appetite posed no threat to him at all. Leaning coolly against the planked walls of the cabin at his back he felt as if he could trace every grain simply through the contact of the grooves with the gentle cloth of his shirt. Everything which had been paramount before now felt like a fraction of the greater picture.

So small. Everything that humans can accomplish individually is so tiny. These fists which I loaded with all my fears and apprehensions can’t even take a single real strike because I won’t allow them to. Is that what Jack-san had been trying to tell me in our fight?

In some ways it was a profound thought while in others it was a truth that Tang had known all along, its essence embedded within the innermost confines of his soul. Life around the two stood statue-still as his eyes met the knifeman. Now that he was really looking Tang could see the world-weary face that housed a thousand achievements and fifteen hundred disappointments in each imperfect line. That forehead, now creased with age, had once been smooth with the innocence of age. The nose which hooked evilly had been unbroken by hundreds of fistfights; these things were apparent to Tang as gradually he came to understand that his enemy—everyone’s enemy in any given fight was not the man across from them, but the individual within them. Lurking the in the shadows of one’s heart, the inner infirmities that bound a person’s fighting spirit waited for them to give into their despair. A nightmare which always resided right beside you, waiting to draw you deep into the blackness until there was nothing left and you vanished beneath a sea created by your own demons.

Not knowing when he’d moved Tang now faced the man squarely. Those angled eyes watching him made him feel curious about what lay behind that glare. Was there an honorable man seeking to break out from the constrained life of piracy or perhaps there was someone seeking to attain greater heights and only found that taking from others was the most direct route?

These were questions that Tang now harbored for himself. How far was he willing to go as he followed Jack Dancer? And more importantly: what did he thirst for? Why did he fight? For whom did he fight for?

Clasping his hands in front of his chin, Tang bowed his head slightly in a display of respect towards his enemy. The man guffawed at the gesture, but then the person that Tang had most been interested seemed intrigued by the behavior. On the deck, the gun totting captain waited to see how this suddenly tense moment would play out, but Tang had no doubts what the results would be. As he straightened and his hands which had been extended in peace transformed into weapons of combat, he saw the vision of his victory—of his happiness laid out before him. Silently he begged Jack to forgive him for his disobedience.

“I’m ready,” he declared calmly as a southern wind buffeted his back and cooled the lingering perspiration of his skin.

[BEX]

Even in the pitch-black of the ship’s storage hold finding the pirate’s hoard had been a small matter of paying attention for Jack. The hot stench of garbage plugged his nose and made his eyes water as he trudged through the filth, but it was the skittering of unseen insects across plank-wood that hastened his searching the most. Despite the squalor around him the gentle hum of sound waves washing over a chest in the far back corner brought a delighted grin to his gaunt face. Pirates weren’t the smartest of creatures—himself included—and it wasn’t likely that they’d had many places to hide their trove.

The chest itself was ornate. Crafted fissures bit into the pricey timber exterior while enmeshed bands of gilded iron streaked in neat, vertical lines over the hood and base. Whistling as he examined the decorative container with his hands, Jack began wondering how much a piece of wood like this would go for at a pawn shop. Within the ship’s belly sounds from the outside world were scarce, in some ways leaving Jack blind though he’d yet to stumble or jam his foot into some obscure object lying about. In his head a map outlined in silver lines granted him the ‘sight’ that he’d lost when one of his eyes had been sliced apart by a wayward sword slash. A temporary regret of his slow reaction to the attack paused him for a moment and it was during that time that he heard the distinct chitter of an insect directly behind him.

Turning towards the darkness his eyes saw nothing, but when he closed them he gleaned the sight of a single stag beetle no bigger than his big toe glaring challengingly at him. Sucking his teeth he dismissed the coincidence of a bug meddling in his theft as his attention once again settled on the chest, but the moment his back was turned an angry insectile drone stopped him again. Now his anger flared.

“Get lost ya kabuto bastard before I accidently step on ya,” he hissed, but again defiance was etched in the tiny creature’s squeaking.

His temper subsided by bafflement Jack decided against making a move against this miniscule adversary. As ridiculous as it sounded the tiny critter appeared poised to attack if Jack so much as stepped to it in the wrong fashion. A bead of perspiration snaked its way down from his shorn hair and vanished down the back of his shirt where the cloth absorbed it. This is stupid. Just grab the damn chest and get the hell outta here! he told himself, but something instinctual warned him that the extraction would not be that easy. “You’ve got balls trying to take me on, but yer small and there ain’t no army to help ya. I’ll tell ya this one more time: back off.”

Though Jack couldn’t actually see the outrage flaring in those beady black eyes he could certainly discern the emotion from the spreading of its wings and the passionate squeak that was quickly responded to by a host of other squeaks and buzzes that sent shivers down Jack’s spine. His confidence sank as the unified skittering of innumerable creepy-crawlers marched to the aid of their comrade and within a matter of seconds Jack was regretting his army crack.

Swallowing a nervous laugh he stepped back, his foot gently nudging the chest behind so that it grated as it skid backwards audibly. That sound had been the beginning of the war between man and insect. With a single screech that resonated in Jack’s epicenter the long-legged creatures crawled, slithered, flew, and hopped towards him with passionate cries of battle. Hopping from the ground onto the trunk Jack narrowly avoided the ground troops, but he’d been too slow in defending himself from the air strike as a thousand leathery wings beat against his face and inhuman mandibles sank into his flesh. Grunting more out of humiliation than in pain he swatted feebly at the assailing cluster of insects attacking him, but each time his hand came away from his face he found their offensive breaking through his guard with overwhelming force. Their small bodies were too quick and their tempers too hot to be forestalled, Jack found the entire operation in peril as he lost his foot and fell towards the ground…and his doom.

[Blackwater]

For the first time in his life he noticed it. All the tiny contractions of sinuous muscle that served as a precursor to attack. The hostile flaring of the nose, bearing of the teeth and shortness of breath that accompanied an all-encompassing offensive that came with only a single purpose in any given situation: victory. Beyond the razor-edge of the knife rendering the air apart as it drove hungrily towards his throat. Beyond the swaying ship which sought to rob him of his balance. Beyond even the observant eyes of these people whom he’d come to call friends and the safety which was rested solely on his shoulders because of that association. Beyond these things Tang began to see the ‘truth’ for the first time.

It was programming that urged an individual to dodge or evade a direct attack. The thought of pain and injury insisted that the body do everything within its power to avoid that fate as such enabling a person to counteract their enemies. Warriors, practitioners of the art of combat, used this instinct—this innate instruction to circumvent pain as a tool to obtain an advantage over their opponents. Those who were talented even developed the skill to the point where their senses were directly linked with the intent of their will when fighting. Tang standing motionless felt that same desire, that instinct telling him to move as he’d been trained to do. A simple duck or a twist in the opposite direction of the knife-wielder’s flow of direction would suffice to remove him from the path of danger. Yet he remained fixed in his position. Life pulsated around him beautifully as memories of the last thing his father had taught him about fighting in a real battle.

‘Everyone runs in a fight, even me. Their reasons aren’t all the same. Some evade to buy time for an attack while others simply desire to get away from the harmful things that hunt after them. Still more people use evasion as a means to lure their opposition in a more favorable situation for themselves. It’s only human that we attempt escape from an attack, but I believe that when the ‘True Warrior’ awakens. When that individual is realized and all the powers that we warriors thirst after have been fitted into a single vessel we will see the meaning of true fighting. The art of not avoiding an attack. The art of attacking an attack.’

Before he knew what he was doing his bare left foot slapped hard against the wooden floor while the forearm of the same hammered into the thrusting pirate’s weapon hand. The impetus of his charge—directly into the face of an assault was enough to startle the enemy and break their guard in the same moment leaving the inexperienced combatant at a loss for how to respond. With a cry of surprise the bejeweled dagger went spinning into the air, but Tang had already removed it from thought. That feeling that he’d held before the melee gripped him with such fierceness and that connection with heaven filled his body with inspiration. Within milliseconds of disarming his enemy Tang’s right hand grabbed hold of the collar and the already unbalanced man found himself pulled with surprising strength to Tang’s right; directly in front of the banister that overlooked the main deck. Shifting momentum moved his body without him needing to think about it and before he knew it his second footstep had positioned him for the finishing blow as the unguarded, flailing human being stared wide-eyed at him, the blue of the sea expanding behind that alarmed face.

An instance of lucidity allowed Tang to perceive and realize that this had been the same as that time with Bray. An enemy cornered an already defeated. Lives that hung in the balance if he failed to succeed. No, he realized with a calm clarity, No, I’m different now. Without hesitation the flow of attack which he’d been cultivating since the beginning of the premature skirmish culminated as his left knee and elbow rushed towards his enemy, his palm and foot making synchronized contact with the floor and the pirate’s beaked nose in explosion of force.

“ Shin’irikugo: Kosen Mutou!”

With a single strike all of Tang’s worries and fears as a fighter vanished. His blow rang true and the vibrations of destruction that passed through the man’s being felt oddly satisfying as the pirate freefell towards the deck below, landing with a bone-jarring thump at the feet of his Captain. All eyes moved from the fallen knifeman to Tang who stood serenely matching stares with the heated eyes of the blonde pirate who watched him with the cool gaze of a predator. The impact and significance behind what he’d just accomplished only dawned on him seconds later. Human beings—especially skilled fighters like the man he’d just defeated—weren’t meant to be beaten in a single blow. Feeling as amazement tugged his soft cheeks into a bemused smirk he realized he’d just executed an art that many fighters trained for years to achieve. In three steps he’d transcended himself and…taken one step closer to reaching the heights were the unrivaled Tiger lived.

Without looking from his hands he gave a careful warning to remaining enemies watching him apprehensively, “Attack at your own peril; I can’t guarantee your bones won’t get broken.”

[BEX]

Buried beneath a writhing mass of legs, wings, and chitinous bodies Jack marveled at the absurdity of his situation. Thousands of tiny eruptions of pain scattered across the length of his body, but he bore with it for screaming would give the hellish insect warriors access to his mouth; that was not something he was willing to endure. The bites weren’t the main source of his irritation rather as he remained rigidly still so as not to incite attention to his eyes or nostrils he could hear the gentle ringing calling to him as various chirps and squeaks rode the musty, stale air of the lower deck. It was a familiar beckoning, one that he’d known since early on in his pirate days. Its sound revived long dead memories of the day he’d set out with Memo Mazzuza and left Saint Reia in order to seek a life of freedom and violence.

Steel hummed to the air, singing its sweet song of death and glory. Jack could almost hear the precious sword’s edge longing to be held in his arm. His swordsman’s callouses ached along his palms, the skin surrounding the unnatural speaker at its center, thirsting for the familiar weight of a hilt in its grasp. To move was death. To lay still was a slower death—his options weren’t very good. Finally his impatience won and with a bestial roar he lunged to feet sending a spray of squealing bugs hurtling through the air around him. Their high-pitched cries filled with horror and dismay blotted out that siren’s song that came to him from the katana stowed somewhere within the cargo hold. Flinging the remaining insects away from Jack hurried towards where he’d last heart the whistle of wind on steel, his fingers moving delicately through the refuse that lay scattered about.

Amidst the outraged cries of the rallying insect troops Jack could hear the distinct call of the beetle that had been the cause of all this: Kabuto.

Whirling around with his lone wild eye searching the darkness he tried to make sense of the disorientating influx of audio information flooding in through his microphones, but he couldn’t pick out the little bugger if his life depended on it; which coincidentally it did. Without any other options he took the single tactic that he hated resorting to the most.

“Oi, Kabuto!” he hollered just as a many-legged something began to snake around his right ankle. “Oi, you buggy bastard; come out and talk to me man to…uh…bug, dammit!”

Eerily all the alien chatter of the insects around him came to an abrupt halt and the pressure on his ankle ceased to exist. Only the lone skittering of a single pest marched forward and stopped inches away from Jack left foot. It took more restraint that Jack would have thought to resist the urge to stomp the little shit into a mushy paste, but diplomacy—at least what he understood about it—meant that no violence could be committed while talks were in session; a stupid rule if he’d ever heard one. “Yo, I got something I gotta take outta here and you want me out. Let’s do each other a favor and just stay the hell outta each other’s way, huh?”

Seconds ticked away as the silence began to thicken with tension. Jack could feel the other bugs shifting irritably and the want of their desire to finish the job they’d started was so strong that it was like a tangible thing in the cramped space with them. Inconspicuously Jack made a sweep of the area while the quiet lasted. If he could manage to reach the katana before violence broke out again he’d have more than a fighting chance of warding off the little devils and escaping with the treasure he’d originally come to collect. With the thought of his objective came the curiosity about the others faring. Things were taking longer than he’d expected and while the barrels of gunpowder had been loaded aboard the pirate’s ship it would mean anything until Jack managed to make off with their goods. Dammit, where the hell is this thing? Finally his hearing ‘touched’ it. Sleek, smooth tempered steel sung its alluring tune of death to him and just as the beetle squeaked out what could have been a truce, Jack cackled madly as he clutched the sheathed blade in both hands.

“Screw you, mofo! I’ll chop yer whole crew in half!” he gushed deliriously as the sudden wave of battle lust washed over him and blotted out all other senses.

[Blackwater]

“T-T-Tang! Tang!” Callie wailed.

The hysterical concern in her voice was the only thing that drew Tang back from beyond the fog where only unconsciousness and darkness awaited him. Swaying on his feet he blinked to clear his vision and saw the aftermath of his development—the advancement of his progression as a fighter. A heap of bodies, bloodied and broken by his fists piled in a disorderly mess to his right leaving only one remaining pirate standing aboard their ship. Fragmented images of the decimation that he’d wrought upon the sorry buccaneers came flooding back to him, but Tang schooled his face into impassivity as he hunted the Captain with his eyes. Droplets splattered at his feet and he felt a warm slickness skating down from his beneath his hair and down the length of his cheek. Never taking his eyes of the enemy he brushed away at what he’d believed was a drop of sweat only to have his hand come away bathed in red. When did I take an injury? he reflected. Despite mastering the art of the three-step destruction, taking on eight armed men wasn’t something that should’ve been taken lightly and in his blind arrogance he’d suffered the consequences luckily without losing his life.

Shame burned hotly in his cheeks. He needed to be better. The space between his father and brother was still too great. That connection he’d felt with heaven; that had been true perfection. It had been his fighting spirit personified into a spiritual manifestation and in that he’d created something in the tumultuous tide of fighting, a rarity in the combat world. Techniques were derived by years of devoted training and honing one’s body not spuriously at a stroke of brilliance during a life-or-death situation. Yet that had been exactly what Tang had done. Calming himself with a cleansing exhale to relax his muscles Tang took his stance knowing that this final battle between the Captain and himself would end within seconds; not like the others.

Firearms had long since been developed as a natural enemy to martial artists who devoted their entire lives to self-mastery and striving to defeat the weakness in their own bodies. What could a man do against a weapon that killed in a single shot from a distance? Arrows were never sure-kills unless in the hands of a master archer, but guns could be used by even a toddler and in the face of that technology the world’s greatest warrior would fall with an errant shot. Only those who transcended the limitations of their mortality were allowed to survive to the next age. Tang’s father had been one of those men. Now he wanted that same rite as well.

Inching his right foot forward slightly he allowed the rhythmic rocking of the sloop to roll his body first one direction and then the next. The blond haired captain with his elegant high collared coat remained unmoved by the Tang’s show of bravery. It was repulsive. Warriors regardless of their hatred for one another always respected the conviction of their opponents. Realizing his enemy’s true nature Tang knew he could not accept defeat. When he moved there was no thought, no chemical message coursing through his veins at the speed of thought inciting motion. Instead his body had retreated to a basic place. A plane of mental existence that resided somewhere between the heart and the soul, drawing it crude instruction from that epicenter. A single pellet burned a hole centimeters from his where his left foot just narrowly sidestepped the incoming projectile. The shrill shriek of another near-miss sent Tang’s hair rustling yet his advance did not stop. He’d already covered three out of the six paces that had separated the two, but now came the dangerous part. Gambling on the skill level of his adversary he was took flight, his legs tucking tightly beneath him as he lifted into the air.

Smiling, the cruel lawbreaker followed Tang’s flight pattern with the barrel of his revolver. With the practiced steadiness of a skilled marksman the man’s trigger finger held still until the opportune moment and when it came they both knew it. Tang could see the thought process that had begun with the visual the eyes had perceived and the ended with the reaction that followed suite. It was only because he read these things in that heartless visage that he twisted his body impulsively in midair. Dizzyingly the water, the boat—everything spun uncontrollably in his sight and only a half a second’s warning prepared him enough to land on his feet in a crouch, but when he did and his breathing subsided he was directly below eye level of the pirate Captain.

He’d survived the kill zone of the revolver.