Beating the House: The King's First Decree

[EriChar]

It was the city of northern sin. Standing as a monument to the decadence and overindulgence that ‘man’ was so fond of, while in the past people had worshipped grand idols of unimaginable power, it seemed that the totem of the modern age was a simple set of scribbles on paper, which was not without a terrible influence of their own. While this slips and small sheets had not the arms to wave and cause the seas to swell or ground to tremble, at the same time, they had their own means of achieving their own result. When enough of the so seemingly simple items were gathered together, they had such power over the hearts of men and women, that the floor beneath would rock with activity if it was demanded, and the world’s oceans could become flooded with wave upon wave of wooden craft.
However, for all the fondness that mere mortals had for currency, the sentiment was not shared at all with their obsession; callous and uncaring, like the cruellest of cats, money followed no master but its own will, and merely tolerated the possessive tendencies of others. Some may have been blessed with the company of cash in great and long lasting degrees, but they were fools if they thought that this funding was ‘theirs’, and sooner or later, they would realize this; no matter how many ages it took.

Nowhere was this simple fact more true than in a casino; where a man with more of his one-sided friends than he could count could lose it all, and one with scarcely a penny to call his own, could leave with a great many flimsy benefactors. Of course, this was just a simple matter of chance, but the lure of the money fooled many into believing that the slim opportunities presented here were far more certain, and few would have the presence of mind to see where the money was truly going. Certainly, not all of those who profited from this venture left the land as happy men? If that were true, the lights of the casinos would not be climbing high into the sky, and the crooked characters who owned them would have given up long ago. The house always wins, after all, and no successful casino was ever making anything close to a loss.

As the sun began its slow descent into the sea, casting the last of its reddened rays over the landscape, the lights of the city named ‘Serine’ began to claw at the sky, denying the night it’s dark presence and beaming like a blinding beacon to the land and sea around it. Drawing in those gullible enough to believe that what they brought would be outmatched by what they might leave with, this infernal bug zapper constantly drew in the homosapien insects it demanded, scorching the reckless and irresponsible like a hellish current of destruction. The higher one flew, the closer they came to getting their wings scorched, and not just by the fickle fancy of fortune, no; there were hands behind the wheels of the casino’s that were nearly as callous as the currency they greedily tried to absorb. Often, even if one were blessed by luck enough to leave the casino with more than the clothes on their back, their luck would run out as soon as the bright lights were lost to shadows; pickpockets and muggers on the employ of the gangs that ran the racket making sure that money only ever entered the island, it never left. The idea was as ingenious and innovative as it was unhuman, and as one began to see the truth of this supposedly ‘Serine’ land, they would have to question why anyone would ever want to visit it, let alone stay. And yet, there was the odd soul who chose to stay in this murky and masked underworld, and more than a few who happened to have a flying visit. The latter was personified by the shape of a scrawny youngster, whose mouth opened as he stepped up off the deck of a ferry, and felt his mouth and eyes widen as he surveyed the shape of the ‘tower of light’ on the horizon.

“Wheeeeeeew….” Even as darkness threatened to claim the surrounding where he stood, the young man with the red headband felt compelled to cast a hand over his brow for the brightness at which he peered, releasing a vocal whistle as his eyes focused on the form of the Serine City.
Looks like a city just packed full of opportunity…While the combination of observation and intelligence might have clued a visitor into the seedy underbelly that this land had developed in the years it had been around for, the shine of eyes still yearning to believe in the hearts of men could perhaps inform those same qualities that this was a teen who could not see these things. Dressed for some sort of holiday, the dark haired male was wearing a simple button-top tee rolled to his elbows, and shorts of a darker tan colour. While these may seem simple, over the shirt was a bright orange shirt, suited to some sort of party animal, and decorated with exotic birds of many varying colours. The chap’s feet as well were ready for relaxation; no shoes were worn, but rather a pair of brown sandals was flapping lazily from the heel of this lad, with every step seeming to want to step off on their own but never losing the hesitation for long enough to do so. It was a bizarre combination, entirely mismatched and perhaps implying that this was a character who rarely showed himself earnestly, and yet, there was one thing on his person that seemed to speak of a slight seriousness. Trailing from within the shirt, and peeking out beneath it, was the hilt of a sword, which was carried with a confidence of someone who knew how to wield it with ease. This blade at the waist was not for show, it was a tool for whoever it was who carried her as familiar as an arm or leg. And who was it that held this weapon? Why, it was Rowdy King, of course. And he had arrived on the island of Casino’s with no intent of ‘losing’…

[Harusame]

The room usually filled with sounds of scratching pencils and the ever so often "Aha!" or "Damn!" from the inventor, was replaced with new harmony. It was replaced with the soft sounds of exhaling and inhaling, which meant for sure that Sora Volker had fallen asleep. All that could be seen was his white mane, slightly rising and falling like his body. Unfortunately, the White Haired man had ended up face first instead of a more ... comfortable position. And honestly, since his first day in Don Jodes little 'happy abode', Sora had fallen asleep in his line of work in many, many ways. The possibilities were quite endless, considering the one time he had fallen asleep on the clothing rack. But to blame him would be unfair, considering the amount of time he had to work. Although if you were to ask him if he wanted a day off, or if the amount was too hard to reach, he would deny you in a heartbeat. Just because he was tired didn't mean he needed any mercy. After what he went through two years or so ago, this didn't bother him. It seemed only a little while ago when he was sailing on ships, looking for untold adventures. And even more closer, sailing with the Maelstrom pirates. How they had defeated foes, and fought their ways into the GL. Even gained some bounties for some of them. Then again, memories of the Maelstroms also bought back pains of his dead friends. And, in Sora's eyes, the 'carelessness' of his captain. If it hadn't been for some major key events, he could still have that life.

Now, Volker was in with the life of a mobster. To be honest, he wasn't even a mobster himself and more a 'pawn' in Don Jodes little group. At first, Sora had looked at this from the angle that, he was important and simply helping the Don for both his benefit and the leader himself. It seemed like a small compromise they had made out of their first encounter. Although with time, as Sora has thought more and more, there was a possibility that Don Jodes was using him. Sora couldn't put his finger on it, but he had the strangest suspicion that those 'side projects' he made, of weapons, weren't simply for 'the good of the crew'. The Former Pirate, in all of his years of sailing, knew a man who would strike a deal with no holes or backstabbing. He could tell when he shook his hand, saw his face, or even reviewed his actions mentally. The Don wasn't one of those trustworthy people. And even though nothing truly happened to make Sora suspicious, he couldn't deny the feeling in his heart.

The soft snores continued until the door to the mans room opened ever so quietly. A woman, with beefy arms, brown hair tied back in a bun and an apron with the word 'MOM' written over it stepped in. Her piercing blue eyes glared at the 'white mass' on the desk and she pursed her fat lips. Coughing slightly into her hand, she took a deep breath and screamed out.

"GET UP VOLKER!!!"

The Young Inventor jumped from his sleep and feel off his desk, landing on his side in his dazed state of awaking. Climbing back on his chair, he looked around his room as his vision began retaining it's usual clear. Dark blurs and vividness were slowly building to a clearer picture as sleep still held him. But he recognized his room. The brown desk he now sat beside with his comfy blue chair. A bunk bed to his left, with the bottom bunk being replaced by yet another small desk with some writing utensils and clothes in the drawers. And to his right, a door that led to his bathroom. And at his door, where he usually had his closing rack, was now Mary one of the housekeepers for the don. His eyes widened as he realized why he was awake and what was going on. It was as if memoires began to flood back into his brain.

"What is it Mare?" The fun tone Sora carried a long time ago was now gone with the wind. Even with the small nickname involved, it was almost mumbled more than said. He seemed much more serious now, almost too mature.

The woman pursed her lips again and crossed her beefy arms over, glaring. "Do you remember that little meeting you have with The Don? Yeah, you're late you dunce!" Sora looked at the little clock on his desk and jumped up. It was already evening and he had dozed off. Every day towards the evening he presented his plans to The Don so they could discuss things, but he had fallen asleep.

"I-i fell asleep! I was tired!"

"Tired? Tired? You children today complain more than old people! The day you all stop complaining is the better! Honestly, one of these days i'll give you a good beating and maybe you'll learn! Mary Orchard Mahoney doesn't need a punk like you to ruin her day all the time!"

Sora didn't even pay attention to a word she said. Mary always complained about Sora the day she found out he was a pirate. And ever since then, she carried this almost natural grudge over him. Too the other members she was quiet and kind but oh not with Sora. No, she hated his guts. How he looked, how he talked, how he walked. She even neglected to buy him marshmallows sometimes! Now that was too low for Sora. In fact, he didn't even care much about her thoughts anymore. He simply shrugged them off, knowing if he turned into his canaan form she'd run off like a schoolgirl.

Gathering all his paper and trying to even them out so they could fit in his hand, Sora moved to his door passed the grumpy Mary and out the door. He went through the halls until he reached a staircase where he moved up. Meeting a door labeled 'Jodes', he knocked three times and breathed in deeply. It wasn't good to disappoint the Don. It never was.

"Who is it?" Sora recognized the voice of the Don's consigliere. Taking another deep breath he exhaled his name, "Sora." The door opened almost instantly ...

[EriChar]

“Suuuuugoooooiiiiiiiiii….” Having drawn closer to the light that drew so many flies to their death, the eyes of the visitor shone brightly as he looked up toward the neon signs and attractions all around. The buildings like beauties, beckoning one to enter, while most seemed to offer a different thing than the next, they all had the promise one thing; the best time you could possibly have, ever. For certain, one with anything other than the sternest, most ardent desire to purpose themselves otherwise would be sorely tempted to step inside the casinos, the bars and even the brothels that were scattered around, all freely offering a good time to whoever had the coin to trade for it.
I bet they have some pretty tasty rum here… The shine of the star-like structures around him appearing to have also an incredibly thirsting effect, while the amusement of chance and company swayed the youngster only a little, as he felt his gullet seem to turn to sand as the sight of a great many bars, Rowdy King was sure that this place was perhaps the greatest in the universe; imagine the beverages and battles one could discover in this opportunistic paradise? It was certainly a slice of heaven for the heavy drinker.

No. NO. I’m not here for that! Patting his cheeks in an attempt to ‘wake’ from the dreamy daze that the bright lights had brought the lad to, Mr King did what he could to shake off the temptation around him and set his mind to the task at hand. He hadn’t, after all, come to this island to sample the sinful delights it could offer, no; he was looking for someone. Dragging a rolled and partly ripped slip of paper from his pocket, to steel himself toward his mission, the boy looked over an earthy-toned scrap of parchment. It was a poster, blaring the words ‘WANTED’ at the top, and beneath that was a poorly lit picture of the person presumably that the above proclamation was pertaining to. For some weeks now, ever since tearing this poster off the wall in a distant land, Rowdy had been searching the seas and the specks of earth between them for this individual. The seafarer was driven to find the target out of what can only be described as a combination of whimsy and fate; inexplicable drawn to the mug of the youngster, there was no drink so quenching or sweet to sway him from his quest, not until it was done, certainly.

“Well, a small one for the road certainly wouldn’t hurt?” Shrugging and stuffing the sheet back into his pocket roughly, I am ashamed to say that our young hero was all too easily overwhelmed in his determination to find this destined soul, and instead dragged toward the offered temptation; trotting toward the nearest dim bar like a moth to a flame. Ignoring the local wildlife within, the young master King showed that when the chips were down, the only determination he had was that toward drink, and quickly made his way toward the bar and slammed his fist on wood to rapp for the tender’s focus.
“A pint please, my man!” Chipper, filled with enthusiasm for returning to his ‘natural habitat’, the baby-faced youngster showed an enthusiasm for the drunk-inducing sauce that one would not expect from the age he looked; highlighting that despite the mild air of innocence about his visage, this was not a child without his own corruptions. For certain, this child was not so naïve as his childish amazement with the bright lights could have coerced you into computing.

“Of what?” Seeming somewhat irritated by both the rudeness of Rowdy’s order, and his loudly chipper behaviour, the barman gruffly slung a cloth over his shoulder and scooped up one of the foggier glass tankard’s, waiting on the full order to provide his pompous patron with.

“Rum, of course…!” Dragging a handful of bills and coins from his pocket, again the youngster slapped the table with a distinct clap, depositing his monetary debris on the counter in exchange for a drink, despite the shocked looks he got from the barman and those around him. Like an excited child, Rowdy could barely contain his zeal for the glass being filled before him, and slapped himself onto a stool as his knees swayed from side to side excitedly. All too slowly, the money on the bar was swapped with the best of a bottles-worth of rum, served in a mug, and with a great deal more haste, that vanished as well. Snapped into the hand of the young man, like a flash the contents were rapidly being pushed down his parched throat; slightly quenching the thirst he had from earlier on. Like a choking man suddenly being allowed air to fill his lungs once more, Mr King felt a strong sense of relief and refreshment as this familiar sensation filled his body; warm and comforting, like someone had bottled a nice comfy blanket and it was now coiling itself around his innards. Adams apple bouncing back and forth between chest and chin, the body of this ravenously thirsty young man did not drink his beverage but rather consume it; like he was rapidly absorbing the alcohol into his being, rather than sating any desire for drink. Around him, sweatbeads rolled down the brows of the local ‘big drinkers’, apparently feeling a little emasculated that in the matter of a few moments, this boy had taken in more ‘proof’ than they had all day.
Beaming happily at his accomplishment, emptying the glass he had been given so quickly, with a red nose, the youngster once again slapped his money-filled mitt onto the bar, and demanded another. Apparently, that was not the one he had intended for the road…

[Harusame]

As soon as it opened, Sora's eyes widened, trying to adjust to the darkness suffocating the room. Save for the few candles scattered around, it was pretty much black. Sora heard the door shut behind him as the maid who had opened the door scattered out. Looking forward, The White Haired Mobster faced his boss, hands behind his back.

"Sorry I was late sir." The young man felt uncomfortable as he realized his boss wasn't sitting in his chair alone. Atop his lap was a woman, dressed in a kimono many sizes too small for her, sporting ginger hair in a bun. The woman looked at Sora with a viper gaze as she stroked Don Jodes chest. "Who is this Dony?" Her voice was filled with seductively as she spoke to the boss. Although for any other man, this would've made them walk out or blush uncontrollably, Sora just stood there. Even if he felt the uncomfortable essence that he disturbed something, he was so used to seeing Jodes with some women with him. Honestly, he would've been surprised if it was the same women he had seen yesterday.

Although the woman's viper gaze stirred little things within Sora, the look Don Jodes gave him was even scarier. His eyes and eyebrows coupled together, gave him the most wolf like look Sora had seen. And he didn't like it, the way his eyes bore into his soul, as if searching for something. Don Jodes's brown hair and beard were graying in places too, signs of age coming slowly. Sora blinked a few times too many as Jode scratched his beard and opened his mouth.

"A very late man." The Don began to move his lover and get up, revealing the male kimono he was sporting. Leaving his now pouting women on the chair, he walked around the desk and up to The Violet Tear pirate. Bringing his face close to the boy's, he grinned wolfishly. "Sora?"

Resisting the urge to flinch back as he gained the strong scent of Jodes sweaty body, Sora answered. "Yes Don Jodes." His boss stepped aside and gestured his hand towards the ginger haired lady. "This is Aly. You see, I haven't really told her much about my business. Would you mind ... informing her of my men's regulations?" Sora stared at her and replied almost robotically, "Be effective, be loyal, be on-""Time." Jodes finished. Looking at Sora with his devil smirk, he now stepped back in front of him. "Forget the rest of them. Let us focus on time. Time is so... He looked up as if to find the right word, then looked right back at the boy, his teeth now baring, "Perfect."

"Sir I was working all day, I just doze-" Jodes waved his hand in front of the Purple Eyed man and sighed. "I don't want excuses. I don't need Aly to hear your bullcrap whining of how you were 'tired' and 'lost track of time'. We made a deal, you were late. Now i'll take that, Jodes grabbed the case from Sora's grip, "And you can just go. Come back tomorrow, five pm on the freaking dot. I'll think of a formidable punishment by then." Turning back to his seat, The Don walked away to his desk. Sora, without a word or reaction, turned around and walked out of the room, back down the stairs. As he made his way towards his room, he first didn't feel anything. Then a flame of anger built its way into him until he felt his fist clenching, turning his knuckles white. As he got into his room, the first thing he did was smash his fist into the wall. Screw you Jodes ... The hate he felt right now for that man was great. How much he wanted to turn into his wolf form and tear him apart, limb from limb, like a goat ... but he couldn't. He was stuck in the freaking deal of him making things for the man. And it was all because of two years ago, after The Maelstroms disbanded. It had been Jodes who took over Don Armo's little crew. It was also Jodes who saved Sora from the wreckage. But it didn't matter what he did or didn't do. Jodes was the biggest b*tch alive. A businessman who loved manipulating people.

And even though Sora could do it right now, go in there and kill him, forget the bargain ... again he couldn't. There was nothing else for him in the outside world besides pain and memories of his dead friends. The pirate he had dreamed of so long ago, the one he imagined being one day was gone. There was no dreams, or adventures, or happiness. Just life in all it's freakin glory. Deep down inside, he wanted so much to just sail out to sea but for what? He didn't know what he would do, he dind't even have the spark of romance anymore. His heart was dead, it had lost its belief. All he wanted now was to invent things, and get money so he could invent more things.

Sauntering towards his bed, he sighed and slumped into the sheets as he climbed the ladder. Laying down, he looked up at the ceiling for a moment. And for a second, he felt and thought nothing. Then a question, one he had asked himself many times before resurfaced. What did the don sue the weapons for? Sure, the man had said it was for self protection and his crew ... but Sora was lost. One day he had asked one of the guys about his latest model, and the guy looked at him like he was crazy. It turned out he never got to see the thing. Sure, his gambling units and other inventions were going out, but his weapons diagrams seemed to just vanish. Something smelled ... and it wasn't the Don's body odour ...

[EriChar]

“…And then they made me their chief.” Enough minutes having passed in the bar for the bravado and high topped tales to have drawn a wide eyed crowd, the youngster, who had taken a break half way through his latest beverage to finish his story, gave the people a shrug and sank what was left in his glass. A subtle slur having seized the manner in which his words were spoken, it was clear to the observer that this youngster was now no longer completely sober, but one had to say, with the number of empty tankards in front of him, any mortal drinker would have long been dead.
“It was a strange kind of Sunday, you know?” Placing his drink back onto the counter top, the boozy brat summed up the story which had captivated practically every heart in mind in the bar, it’s owner included. It was unclear how many actually believed the story, or even, to the teller, how they’d got onto the path of this prologue to his current adventure, and yet it certainly seemed to have broken the ice between the visitor and the locals, many of whom were now scrambling to provide the whelp with his next drink.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Easy gents. I’m here on business, not pleasure unfortunately…” Waving off the charity of these esteemed new friends, it was after the something-th jar that Rowdy King remembered his purpose on the island. The traveller had, after all, not come here only to indulge his desire for the demon drink, no. There was a person he was looking for that he had heard hung his hat in a homestead in this very land. Unfurling the crumpled sheet from his pocket again, the dark haired visitor reacquainted himself with the young man he sought. White hair, splayed in all directions like he had been the victim of a lightning strike, the chipper image of the fellow, who in this darkly lit picture seemed to be stuffing his mouth with snacks, had spoken to Rowdy of this fellows character. Without ever meeting him, there was something about the poster, and the person that it represented, which spoke to Mr King like no other. Almost as if the picture was whispering to the boy, compelling his actions, the youth knew he had to find this target, and now his whistle was thoroughly drenched, it was time to take action.

“Speaking of, have any of you fine fellows seen this dude around here?” Brandishing the bounty poster, the outsider to this land sprang from his seat and held his crumpled note up for all to see; hopeful that the barflies might have had the chance to capture this man’s image in their memory, and steer him in the right direction. Surely, with such an eclectic blend of characters gathered around, there was a chance that a friend of a friend’s mother’s brother’s cousin might have once had an encounter with him? Certainly, it was a matter of luck, but when in the world was one’s fortune not a factor in their success?

“Eh, what are you, a bounty hunter or something?” One of his surrounding individuals stroking his chin quizzically, as the man narrowed his eyes, Rowdy saw that within them there might have been a hint of recognition, behind the haze of drunkenness that cast it’s dull glaze across this soul’s windows.

“…Or something.” While not ashamed of his career in the slightest, and actually quite proud of it, the youngster was neither so naïve nor influenced by his intake to easily reveal exactly what he was. After all, not everyone would respond charitably to the news that their new friend was a sea dog, a scallywag. So diverse a cast were the pirates, as any ‘racial’ group, one was never cut from the same cloth as another. While a particular pirate might pillage and plunder a peoples, those with differing ideals and idols might even help the common man. There were certainly famous tales of the power in the New World seeming to take a liking to towns and act as a benevolent guardian to them, and this was at least as much as the stories of their contemporaries trampling over the lives of the innocent. Perhaps it was an inclination toward negativity, a trend toward letting the stories of horror rather than hope stay in the mind of the common man, which afflicted more than it was best for the pirate peoples. Even as a young King, the lad had learned that his heritage was not always welcomed by those who feared the black flag, and had learned to not be entirely open about his profession more out of kindness than duplicity. Ignorance was bliss, after all, and if a man didn’t need to know he was talking to a brigand, they were both the better for it. Leaning in closer, and beckoning the barman to bring this potential informant another drink, Rowdy eagerly awaited any news that would bring him closer to his quarry…

[Harusame]

The stillness and quit aroma of Sora's room sank into his vision. It had been only a few hours since The Don had mocked him in front of his 'love of the night', and the words, image and scent still bore into his senses, as if Don Jodes stood right there. Although now, he lay on his bed, lights turned off, curled in his blanket as he stared blankly at the dark wall. The only light that shone was the small bit that creaked under his door, but he was faced the other way. Sora tended to get into bed quite early, considering his work schedule, but he never really got to sleep as quickly as people thought. At those times, just before his brain would shut down, he would think. Think until he was so tired that his eyes would get heavy and he would eventually close them. But not tonight. At that moment, nothing entered his head. Not a whisper, not a sound, and it kept him awake. How empty it was all, the darkness, the quitness. Then slowly, unconsciously, a thought burned into his thoughts. He should be more happy. It was true that a few years ago, he would've been on a ship, partying with his nakama. But now that seemed like an impossible dream, unable to be grasped by his hands.

Then the serenity was broken as Sora heard the clop of footsteps that trailed down the hall outside. At first, he decided to ignore it but realized, that the clop was actually clops. Two people were going down the hallway and abruptly, the sound stopped at it neared towards his bedroom. Then, he began hearing voices. But even if he could make out that they were voices, he couldn't make out the words. Slowly creeping out of his bunk, he moved towards his door. As he moved, he finally noticed he had not changed into his pajamas. It was a habit of his to forget to change, o it didn't shock him too much.

Reaching the door he put his ear to the surface, and could finally make out the voices: Don Jodes and Aly.

"... But Dony, Ultrich wanted a canon design. I'm not sure he'll like this." Sora scrunched his eyebrows. Ultrich? Canon? What did she mean. "I know, but I never asked him to make it yet. Tomorrow I will get him to it. The 'punishment' will simply be another assignment. A bigger one. Anyways he knows i'm mad, he won't ask too many questions." Sora's felt his heart beat harder in his chest and sweat begin to roll on his forehead as he realised; he wasn't supposed to be hearing this. But this was what he suspected, what he knew all along. Somehow, Jodes was double crossing him. He could feel it in his very bones, enough to make his systems blow as it sank in. That son of a DIRTY-

"Anyways. We get to make a deal in my office, and have fun while doing it." Sora felt a hint of flirtatious nature in his sentence and then heard the sounds of 'mmm' and decided to back off of the door. He didn't want to hear the whole love fest going on. After a second, he put it back on, luckily the noises stopping. "After you." Sora heard one of the footsteps proceed then it was quiet before he felt a small tap on his door. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he moved back, regaining his footing and not making a sound. Don Jodes began speaking to the door, as if he was talking to Sora. Sora knew that his boss thought he was sleeping. The White Haired pirate usually did at this time.

"Sora," He whispered. "What I can do with you is endless."

Finally the shocked inventor heard the footsteps move away. For a moment he simply stood there, uncertain what to think. Then it hit him in the mind again. He had been double crossed. It seemed that Jodes was selling off his items to other gangs. This was the one thing Sora didn't want. The one thing he was against. And he wasn't going to change his mind as of now. What was he going to do? He was going to follow that mother-sucker.

Turning on his lights he pulled on a long hoodie. It seemed odd, the suit and hoodie coupled together, but it didn't matter to him. All he needed to do was cover his face and he'd be fine. Turning the lights back off, he slowly opened his door, looking down the hall both ways before stepping out and making his way out of the casino. He could tell the Don had gone through the casino, so he decided he would take the back door and meet the little bugger. Moving down some stairs a bit away from his room, he made his way towards a door and opened it. Another hall stretched out. To his right was the bright lights and laughter of the casino, and to his left was the door out. Making his way towards the left side of the hall, Sora felt a anger burn within his every muscle, his every feature.

Why had he trusted trust a bitch? What the hell was he going to do? He couldn't just straight up beat the crap out of his boss. But he knew what he was doing. It wasn't a hunt for blood, it was a hunt for the truth. All these years working for the Jodes bunch and now realizing he has been assisting bastards. This wasn't the time to get angry and bash them all up, or get riled. This was the time to go back, get more info on what was going on. And at that moment, a she finally reached the door, he knew what he was doing. He wasn't going to only tail Jodes. He was going to get some street info.

Tonight, Sora Volker would find the truth. Dead or Alive ...

[EriChar]

So… Eyes a little bleary, the effects of the mammoth ‘introductory drink’ he had taken in having a slight effect on the young man, Rowdy King fell from the bar he had entered to discover that, outside the blinding lights of the city, the dark blanket of night had seized hold of the land. From the dim light of the bar, the flashing beacons of the businesses around blazed in the eyes of the young pirate, dragging the tails of shooting stars across his eyes as he moved his head. Of course, while anyone would have been a little dazzled by the sudden transition, however with the level of intoxication that this particular individual was undergoing, it was certainly no picnic to acclimatize to his environment.
He’s working for a man called ‘Don’, who is apparently dangerous… Rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, the travelling youngster did what he could to focus his mildly drunken mind upon the task at hand, and the new nuggets of gold his ‘informant’ had given up. Being told of apparently some person that may or may not have been named ‘Donald’, whom the face in the poster had now allied with, even the mind of this dark-locked lad found the situation a little puzzling. While there were stories of mob men taking up piracy, it had to be said that any seaman worth his salt would never lower themselves to be something like a land bandit or member of a street gang, no matter how reputable they tried to make themselves seem. The dangerous waters of the world were, for the men good or bad, a matter of personal pride to sail, and so it was only more mysterious for Rowdy to find that the pirate he sought had now thrown in with the cartel on this island.

“Heh, Dangerous Donald…” Using his brainpower to the maximum potential it had with the dampening the drink had given it, the inquisitive visitor began to chuckle at the epithet he had assigned the unknown ‘boss’ of the white haired boy, breaking the consideration he had briefly engaged in. Not much of a ‘big thinker’ at the best of times, and more the type of boy who went with the flow, so to speak, whatever the truth of the matter was it was of little consequence to Mr King; no matter what was going on, he was destined to ‘catch’ the Violet Tear, he had decided this. The matter of the mystery surrounding the manner in which the man had found his way to becoming a Mafioso was merely a little bonus; it might be interesting to discover the causes of what some might see as a ‘fall from grace’, but either way, the final decision wasn’t to change.
You’re not getting away this time… Filled to the brim with confidence in his cause, having finally tracked his target to this land, and intent on not letting him go, the pirate could feel a touch of destiny in the air. There was something about this day that was special, which made Rowdy even more sure than ever that the task he had worked toward in the recent days and weeks was finally going to bear the fruit he had been expecting. Not that it hadn’t been an enjoyable trail; moving from bar to bar in the Northern Blue, after honing himself to the degree with which he was confident his skills would meet the tests ahead, the banded-head boy had immediately began his quest for future glory. Battling thugs and boasters had merely been the ‘warm up’, the prologue if you will, to the real tale of this man’s adult life. While a great many stories of happiness and heartache already filled the book written since the boy’s birth, it was now that the greatest story would be revealed, and this was chapter one. The time for doubt was over, washed away by a tide of big drinks and battles, and now it was the dawn of adventure, the chance to stand up and be counted as one of this era’s greats, if not the greatest. Of course, there was no question that things would be hard; a story like this would be boring without a healthy dose of struggle and strife, setback and sadness, but it would all be worth it.

This was the day that the King of all took his first step toward his destined throne, and it seemed as if the fates were smiling down on him; shuffling into the open streets, the pirate had by chance snapped a vision of a familiar spiky nest atop a tall head. White locks, splayed outward like built to house birds, bobbed atop a body that crossed only a few dozen meters in front of him. Was it luck, or was it another message that their meeting was something that could never be avoided? That was open to interpretation, but the result of this chance encounter was simple; noisiness.

“HARU VOLKER!”

Bellowing at the top of his lungs, partly from a desire to grab the white haired man’s attention and also because the lad’s fine control of volume had been dampened by his earlier drinking, the hunter jabbed his finger in front of him, like a spear pointing toward his destiny.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time…” Grinning smugly, the visitor brought his hand backward in a grand gesture, pulling it into a fist clenched tightly by the excitement of the moment and what was to follow it. Finally, Rowdy King had tracked down his first mate…

[Harusame]

OOC:{Let me just take a moment to note to everyone that Sora does not know his last name.}

Sora felt a boiling annoyance for the large crowd of people as he had to constantly push or evade the bodies. At night on most islands, there would be lit candles in people’s homes, shining softly as the family slept the night away. Only sounds of snoring and the occasional cricket or frog would ring out to the curiosity of sleepy kids who would wake up, wondering what the sound was. The mood would be so mind resting, so full of serenity, it would even make Sora relax.

But that was not Amino Island. In fact, Amino was louder at night then it was in the morning. A lot of people would think a ‘party island’ would be, oh so grand. Although the reality of the matter was, it was the most pissiest bull alive. For a person or group to party after an accomplishment, or a goal met, or an enemy defeated, these parties were the ones that had purpose, joy, excitement. But the parties set on Amino, in Serine City, it would drive a fellow mad. The purpose of these people was to simply spend a night, wasting their hard earned (or stolen) money and doing stupid things that they would regret in the future. How could that be fun? How was this a party? The White Haired Pirate saw now point to the lot of them.

He continued down the people, looking straight ahead at the back of Don Jodes and Aly, who somehow seemed to slip between everyone. The betrayed mafia man tried to only focus upon his boss and the accomplice, but he couldn’t think straight as he smelled the breath of heavy smokers and drinkers, his sense slightly numbing. At one point, Sora even stopped and turned to a man who had three cigarettes in his mouth and was lighting all three of them. Rolling his eyes, he cupped a mouth over his nose and looked back ahead for Jodes.

He was gone.

The tailing mafia man had lost his prey, his goal. Don Jodes had gone off into one of the many ‘entertainment buildings’ surrounding the White Haired man. How would he find the son of the gun in this mess? People were scrambled all over the place, different groups of mafia found in different buildings, the police slowly watching anyone who would seem too suspicious. And entering then leaving every building would get suspicious, Sora was well aware of that. Although what was he to do? He couldn’t stop here, he didn’t want to go back to his bed, and act like none of what he heard was real. It was real. And after his years’ work for the sonuvagun boss Jodes, getting stabbed in the back like that wouldn’t permit sleep to even enter your thoughts as a consideration. No, actions had to be taken. If the former pirate had a group … a crew to take care of, he wouldn’t rush into things like this. But he didn’t have backup, he didn’t have other people. The only person he had and needed was himself. If he was going to face Jodes, and it meant fifty gun men chasing him out of town, then so be it. He would not stand for this, his inventions being used so selfishly. It was disgusting, made the boy sick to his stomach. And tonight it was going to end.

Sora was about to move towards the nearest building, his mind and body ready for what was about to happen when a man from the crowd yelled out in such a boisterous and loud voice:

“HARU VOLKER!”

All heads turned towards the point of the scream, and eyebrows rose in confusion. Standing not too far from Sora was a blue haired blue, clad in a red bandana and a red tank top. The image of the boy screamed ‘pirate’ at Sora, but why he had yelled still boggled his mind. Who was Haru Volker. And even though The Violet Teared pirate wasn’t aware of the person, he felt an odd connection to the name, like it had hit his ears before a long time ago. Although whenever that was, he couldn’t really remember.

At first, he had decided he would ignore the strange boy and walk away to the building, that was until the kid pointed straight at him, the crowd breaking away leading a path to Sora specifically. Now all eyes turned to the hooded white haired mafia, who had his hand in his pockets and his mouth hanging open awkwardly. Me!?

As soon as the kid said he had been looking for Sora for a long time, a grim look appeared on The Former Pirates face. He had been looking for Sora? Why the hell would anyone do that? That was way to odd sounding for Sora to simply walk away now. At that moment, it meant war. Whoever this kid was, he was going to get it good. Especially since, Sora now realized, he had been tailing Don. If Jodes had still been outside (probably not considering Sora couldn't see him), his cover would have been blown wide open. Pulling off his hoodie quickly and stomping towards the raggedy boy, Sora cracked his knuckles and made his way towards the boy. Pulling up his sleeves, he showed coldness and rage in his eyes as an attempt to scare the boy. As soon as he got close to the kid, he jutted a finger straight up, pointing at the kid chin and bringing his face close. ”Why the hell are you looking for me? And my name is not Haru Volker you drunk buffoon,” The White Haired Pirate now could smell the scent of alcohol on him. ”So if that’s the person you’re looking for, stop pointing at people in crowds and move the hell on." Turning around, Sora decided he would walk away now. Maybe it was ‘unnecessary’ or ‘rude’ to do something like that in big crowds, but it was nothing compared to how that kid would’ve blown his cover. Sora was so blessed that Jodes hadn’t stuck outside to witness this event. But why was the boy looking for him? Or if he hadn’t been looking for Sora, and instead this Haru Volker, why had he pointed Sora out of the crowd? Just because the kid was drunk, didn’t’ mean he was stark raving mad…

[EriChar]

“It doesn’t matter if I’m drunk, or what your name is or isn’t, because I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” Grinning smugly, the ‘drunk buffoon’ was not at all put off by the rudeness with which his announcement was responded to. Not worrying that he had offended or put off the white haired fellow in front of him, the brusque response with which the ‘greeting’ had been received was not at all ill received or even given more than a casual, fleeting recognition as it’s speaker smiled proudly at his accomplishment, achieved with a much heavier share of luck than any sort of judgement. Certainly, it was quite a feat of fortune to find the object of one’s search so easily; the hardship of scouring the town and finding this ‘Don’ having been saved the near-black headed boy, he had quite by blessing stumbled upon the exact person he was looking for, with a coincidence that many might have found spooky. Yes, more and more, as the fates weaved their magic tale, it seemed that what was to occur and what Rowdy King foresaw were one and the same, creating a well of confidence within the young pirate.
“Because, you’re gonna be my partner.” Touting his intent unashamedly, with a broad smile, the dark haired boy thumbed his chest happily; more sure by the second that, despite the rudeness of the welcome he received, when all was said and done, he would have his first mate by the time they left the island.

What exactly had pointed the boy in the direction of the white haired man, aside from the picture on the poster, Rowdy was not sure of. There was something about him that seemed perfect, like looking at a perfectly tailored garment and knowing it would fit you snugly but comfortably; that was the best way to describe what had been seen in the bounty poster stuffed within the mitt of Rowdy King, and was also why he wasn’t too bothered by the immediate hostility he was met with. Change was, after all, never easy, but it was also necessary.

“Yep, that’s right; I’m going on an adventure, as a pirate, and I need only the best.” Deciding that it would probably be a better form of persuasion to let the white haired chap in on what both the boy-captain and destiny had planned, the visitor gave little heed to his new companions protests and attempts to leave; indulging both the ‘new recruit’ and himself in the grand tale of their future expectations.
“There are going to be some magnificent things coming, things that will turn the world upside down, and we’re going to be at the middle of them.” Having embarked on his journey at last, after everything he had seen riding the coat tails of a brilliant mentor, young Rowdy had decided that nothing less than the greatest story ever told would do himself or those that he wanted to honour any justice. No, after what had happened then; the person who had been sacrificed for himself, only the greatest of adventures could be had. Anything less than sheer magnificence would be a travesty.

“Not just you and I, but a we'll have a whole group of wild and wonderful guys and gals along for the ride!” Grinning and casting his arms about cheerfully, Mr King’s exaggerated gestures were no doubt born from enthusiasm, and of course, the level of alcohol coursing through his blood stream. Perhaps blessed with a little gift in the gab, while he was so often a lazy drunk, this boy had a sense of charisma about him that one might expect of someone several years older; able to put the right words and meaning together well enough to move the hearts and minds of those around him.
“We’re going to be the best crew that the world has ever seen, and we’ll never be forgotten.” Grinning even more widely, the youngster couldn’t help but feel his eyes mist a little as he drifted a short way from the moment, but guided not by drink but rather dreams.
“And you know what? You’re the luckiest one, because you get to be the right hand of ‘The King’, Aibo!” Ever since he was a boy, the young ‘King’ had wanted to sail the seas and have some legendary adventures. After everything he had been through, the highs and lows of a life as a pirate’s apprentice, it was nice to be on the cusp of enacting those so often dreamed about tales. Finally, he had begun his own story, and it felt pretty damn good to be doing so; now all that was left was to finish up the recruitment of his first mate, the man who will watch his back throughout everything that lay ahead, and begin blazing their epic trail.

[Harusame]

“It doesn’t matter if I’m drunk, or what your name is or isn’t, because I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” Sora rolled his eyes as he slowly began to walk away, uninterested and unbothered by the child. Why were there drunk kids running around anyways? Didn’t they realize what intoxications did to the mind? And how it affected them physically and mentally? No, they didn’t. And even though the raggedy kid seemed to be trying to convince the white haired pirate, he was quite unfazed. That was until the kid continued on: “Because, you’re gonna be my partner.”

At this, the mafia man stopped from the small distance he had reached, and turned around with a cocked eyebrow and his mouth slightly open in disbelief. ”What?” At this, Sora then realized the kid was looking for specifically him. He could see the resolution in the child’s eyes, the way he looked like he had accomplished something. But what the hell did he mean that he was going to be his partner? When the hell did he decide this crap? And in fact, where the hell had this bandana clad lad come from to know of The Violet Teared pirates past? Now completely turning around, Sora opened his mouth to speak but stopped as the kid continued.

“Yep, that’s right; I’m going on an adventure, as a pirate, and I need only the best.” At this, The Inventor felt a sigh of pity. He was aware of exactly who talked like that. This kid was a pirate. And from the way he spoke, he was feeling the romance of adventure, seeing his dreams in front of him. Sora now put his hands in his pockets and stood on, listening to what the kid had to say now feeling obliged to understand why he had come to him. And maybe after the drunk guy finished, Sora could knock some sense into him.

“There are going to be some magnificent things coming, things that will turn the world upside down, and we’re going to be at the middle of them. Not just you and I, but a we'll have a whole group of wild and wonderful guys and gals along for the ride!” A long time ago, the marshmallow loving man would’ve been moved by these words. In fact, he would have slammed down his hand and said ‘sign me up!’ But that man wasn’t standing here now. Maybe the words did spark that old feeling into the pits of his heart. He felt that old twitch and eagerness of adventure almost take hold. But quickly, reality hit him and the images of his dead friends slammed him back to his senses. A small part of him squealed for him to consider what the kid was saying. Although his whole being together was protesting, remember the hard part of being a pirate.

“We’re going to be the best crew that the world has ever seen, and we’ll never be forgotten. And you know what? You’re the luckiest one, because you get to be the right hand of ‘The King’, Aibo!” Sora stood there now, believing the boy had finished and sighed heavily. Yup, it was the romance of adventure. A small feeling of joy stirred in Sora yet again, remembering the face he once held, the adventures he dreamed of so much. How much he wanted to see the world beyond the blues, and wrestle pirates to the death. Yeah, that was his vision of life.

A scowl appeared on his face. How could this kid not see reality for what it was? Cruel was the best way to describe the life The White Haired pirate had. No, he wasn’t going to be this kids aibo and do stupid crap. With that, he now opened his mouth to speak.
”Baka. One, I’m not your aibo. I don’t know how the heck you know me, but that was never established, ever. Two, since when were you The King kid? And three, in case you haven’t learned yet, I don’t do the pirate gig.” Sora felt a guilt build up inside as he lied to the youth so easily. It was as if he had discarded his past identity, as if he left behind a part of him back somewhere. Why had it been so easy for him to lie like that? To just say, I’m not a pirate. Before, it would have made him want to jump onto a knife and end it now. Although the feeling he felt now wasn’t as intense. Now he had experienced what a real pirate was. No, it was not a walk in the park. It took work, determination, and sometimes even blind romance of adventure. But that wasn’t all. It also needed true leadership (an image of Kaiser blowed into his head and he scowled), strength, understanding that you needed responsibility. And through his time as a Maelstrom Pirate, Sora had learned this the hard way.

”I don’t care if you crawled to the ends of the earth for me, I’m not your guy kid.”

[EriChar]

“Nope, you’re completely wrong!” Answering with a obnoxious degree of cheer, the stubborn pirate refused every assertion that his chosen ‘first mate’ fired back, refusing to believe that there was a possibility of what the white-haired man remarked being true. Recklessly stubborn, even with the degree of drunkenness he was usually undergoing, or perhaps compelled by it, Rowdy King was a man who was impossible to argue with; thick headed and stalwart in his convictions, whenever this boy got the idea of doing something, sooner or later he would usually get his way. Doggedly tenacious, even if the devil himself had stood before him and placed every ounce of fire in hell between the boy and his target, the pirate would walk through it without a second thought to get what he wanted. At times, like when the chips were down and most would rather bury their head in the sand than stand up and fight, this seemed a good quality; having the faith in one’s ideals to go that extra mile, throw that extra punch or sword swing could be counted as a positive, but not always. For those that had to endure this behaviour, there were times it could become tedious, a sentiment that could be shared by a great many who had encountered him in the past, the present and the future. One could certainly understand the headache he might cause for the company he currently engaged.

“It’s already been decided that you’re my man, by fate and an even higher authority; myself!” Pompously declaring himself as something absolute, the often intolerable boy shrugged casually as if stating a simple fact of the world, like the sun rising, or rain falling. While there had been times of turmoil in his life, this well of arrogant self-belief and immeasurable esteem was born from the fact that he had grown up dependant on only himself. Any security that the child had needed had been provided by himself, and as the fickle fates had guided him through life, they had elected to allow this immature attitude to persist. Despite his adult taste for booze and humble appearance, once should not have been fooled into thinking that this child was a simple one, but rather far from it; years of experience and self-reliance had moulded him into a bizarre mix of maturity and at the same time retain a well of juvenile tendencies. Selfish, pig-headed and entirely too unsure of his own shortcomings, this lad was by no means the perfect person, but also not a bad one. With child-like optimism and an almost ruthless clarity of emotion, this was a boy who had a dangerous blend of personality, and would certainly need a steady hand to guide his way; one that he might subconsciously see in the character he called ‘Haru Volker’.

“And if you’re not a pirate…” Not deterred by the refusal of his intended ‘Aibo’, the bratty boozer rattled along with proving his ‘case’ for recruiting the Violet Tear, dragging the messy scrap of parchment from his pocket and holding it up for his new ‘friend’ to see.
“Then why do you have this?” Next to one another, one could see that the resemblance between the picture and the person was as clear as day, minus a couple of years of maturity, and the matching name, both of birth and brag were pretty much case closed. While it wasn’t unheard of for people other than pirates to receive this posters, with bandits and those up and coming freedom fighters finding their faces featured as well these days, it certainly didn’t speak volumes of one’s good character to have been declared a dangerous outlaw by the authority of the world. Whatever the fellow with the spiked and white locks had done in his ‘former life’ he had certainly been considered by many more sinner than saint.

“Oujajajajajaja!” Laughingin his own strange way at the absurdity of the situation, finding amusement in the fact that his first mate would struggle so hard against the fate that had been assigned him, Rowdy showed that he was not at all concerned with the particulars of the moment. Deep down, even though he wasn’t sure why, ‘The King’ knew that regardless of the reluctance and reproach, he would still be proven right this day. Even though it had dulled a little since the picture was taken, there was still that spark within the eyes of the one with the marked face; that twinkle that said he was not meant to simply be the mook of some mob man, but rather something much greater awaited him. All he needed to do was polish this old diamond up and he’d surely sparkle again.
“Whatever you say, you’re still gonna leave with me.” Giving a slight shrug of enduring confidence, the stubborn sailor showed he was not giving up without anything less than the fight of his life; slapping his new partner on the shoulder happily as he completely ignored any defiance he might have.

[Harusame]

Completely wrong? Where the heck did this rag down kid pirate come from to simply deny everything a person said, just like that? There was no hesitation in his voice, no reluctance. This bandana wearing rookie was speaking as if it was a known fact, as if he was superior in intellect. And although the boy was drunk, Sora could see the rock hard conviction in his voice, in his eyes. This boy wasn’t the type to let down easy, and he wasn’t going to listen to reason. It seemed whatever thoughts brewed within his mind, whatever plans, he was going to execute them no matter what got in his way. The Violet Teared pirate knew people like this; they were those hard headed dreamers, adventurers. The ones who saw their destiny as a path they simply had to follow. And it wasn’t that they didn’t see reality or truth, but simply didn’t accept it. All that was in their minds was they would succeed.

But what this kid was saying, it was unfathomable. And Sora was especially flabbergasted as this pirate, “The King” he called himself, said that fate had chosen him to be this kid’s right hand man. And to top it off, he put himself above fate itself, with a non-hesitant tone, condescending even. The Blue haired boy showed more than just conviction, it was almost like authority. The best way to explain it would be a spoiled child, asking for whatever he wanted and getting it. Although the difference of matters was, by the looks of it, this kid wasn’t rich. No, he was most likely affected by the disease of a dreamer; reality block. Yes their mind operated believing that that road was set for them, and they never looked at reality, but they also viewed themselves as untouchable. As if by walking their path, nothing would occur that would stop them. It was as if they were deities, powered only by will and above almost anyone. And holy crap, this kid was thinking just along the same lines.

He fell silent, not saying anything or reacting. The time this “King” was talking, Sora simply listened on in pure shock and disbelief. How this kid commanded him was started to slowly get on his nerves. Who gave this rookie the right to just tell Sora, The “Violet Tear” that he was his first mate? Maybe it was age, maybe it was the greater amount of experience The White Haired Man had, but his pride was tainted. He disliked the way the little rook told him off. His words were brushed off like dirty teeth.

Then the damned boy reached into his bag and bought out the damned piece of parchment. It was the marking that never left, that bound the Ex Pirate to his previous affairs. Maybe deep down inside, he was thankful for how it signified he was more than he is now. Someone who had dreamed, who had seen that side of life. And a funny thing was, Sora realized he had never really seen his bounty poster. But the emotions that brewed at the surface of his being weren’t as warm. Sora was disgusted, angry at how this kid was carrying his burden inside a god damn bag. And as The Inventor saw the picture, his picture, the smiling face and youth that shone, regret and past pains hit him. Why hadn’t he made better choices? Why did he have such a hard youth? Why couldn’t he have lived with a loving family, actually have known parents? He could have been a normal, happy civilian without a “Violet Tear” that symbolized him as a pirate to society, yet a slave to himself. That bounty really ticked him off, making the man now scowl at the child as he put his hands in his pockets, trying to force back the rage he felt.

And then the damned little shit laughed, and Sora felt his twig of resistant creak and bend. This child was finding joy in this bull façade. He was egging off the attitude of him, and just enjoying this time like it was a party. And the question came again, where did he come from? Why was he carrying Sora’s curse around like a cheap necklace? And why the hell, of all people, was he looking for The Mafia Man specifically.

Sora didn’t even listen to the kids last sentence before he spoke up, with a hint of aggression in his tone. ”God damn kid, why me? Why do you need an old sea dog like myself? Why don’t you find yourself some real fresh crewmates? I don’t need this, I quit for a reason dammnit. Just go away.” With this Sora turned around, feeling things that he hadn’t felt in a while flood into his system.

[EriChar]

“OUJAJAJAJAJAJAJA!” Bursting into laughter at the statement, the ribs of Rowdy King wobbled at the absurdity of such a statement.
Old seadog? While it was true that the man he spoke to might have been a year or two older than himself, Rowdy had been travelling the seas since he was in his early teens, and probably had equal if not greater experience with piracy than even this ‘old dog’.
“You make yourself sound like an old man!” The way that this boy, barely broken free from his teenage years spoke, anyone would have thought he was twice the age he actually was; next thing you know, he’d probably be adding ‘-ja’ to the end of his sentences. Holding his stomach as his laughter died down, as the ‘courting’ continued, the King wiped a tear from his cheek and straightened back up, ready to answer the query the man with the mark on his face had asked; to enlighten Haru ‘Volker’ as to why it had to be him who joined his crew.

“Anyway, it hasto be you!” There was no discernable reason why it would be the Violet Tear who took the role of Rowdy’s first mate; the idea behind it was indescribable, or at least so thoroughly vague and complex that nobody but the blue-haired boy could understand it. There was just ‘something’ there, an unseen force or will that commanded that the union of this heavy drinking teen and his candy-loving companion take it ‘all the way’. Not to say that they end up in bed, of course, but there was something between them; an energy that if stimulated right one might find could be harnessed and used to create something greater than the sum of its parts. There was just something about Haru Volker as Rowdy called him that spoke to him, it called to him even through the bounty poster; it was an odd, nebulous sense that seemed to whisper to him about things now and then, a little like a sort of instinctual intuition.

“Even if you try to fight it, you’re gonna be a pirate again. I can tell, and I wanna make sure you’re with me when you do.” Even when he was sober, the speaking lad was not the type who would observe a whole lot about his environment or the people in it, and this was doubly so when he was drunk. However, for some reason, the irritable manner in which the pure-locked person in front of him seemed to totally contrast the cheer expressed in that photograph; Rowdy there was barely a sign of the carefree teen that had earned himself this bounty, which the pirate guessed was because of his new career path. For all the safety and security it might afford one to live as a lubber of land, for one who had tasted the excitement of the sea, it would always feel like something was missing. When Mr King had returned from the sea a couple of years ago, it only took a matter of weeks for him to feel a restless longing for the life on the waves again. Despite the depression of the circumstances that had brought him to land again, there was a tension in Mr King’s body that could only be relaxed by the return to the ocean; a sense of satisfaction by the freedom of choosing the fate one experienced only by sea lane and stretch of wind in front of them. Sora may have considered himself an old sea dog, but any sort of man who had the salt and surf in his blood would never feel whole without it on their face again.

“I bet you’re certainly not having anywhere near as much fun in this place as you would when you were on the sea?” Shrugging and slapping a hand on the taller male’s shoulder, Rowdy looked deep into the narrow eyes of the fox-faced boy and spoke more seriously than he was usually inclined to do so. Seeing that face on the poster, he had known that this Haru had been the person to be his right hand, but it was only in meeting him that he knew why.
He looks like he’s so lost now… Looking into those windows to the soul, for all of the drunkenness that impaired the pirates ability to focus, it was as plain as day that there was a sense of pain about the once so happy-go-lucky looking criminal. Something had happened to Mr ‘Volker’, something that had wrenched his heart so severely that he had turned his back on whatever dreams he had before, and made him into a shell with a shy soul within it. From where Rowdy King was standing, it looked like the Violet Tear was hiding, both from the authorities but more importantly from himself.
As his captain, It’s my duty to help him find himself. Grinning broadly, the haze of alcohol that filled his eyes now being burned away by a bright determination, the young King finally realized why he had to find this man. The fates hadn’t guided him toward Haru Volker just to be his right hand, no, he had to save him as well; and that was one challenge he would happily accept…

[Harusame]

The Rundown looking child burst into a boisterous laugh at the word ‘old sea dog’, making the veins on Sora’s head protrude rather heatedly. Why wasn’t his aggressive nature showing to this kid? It was as if his drunkenness had taken a whole new level in the minutes they had ‘met’ each other. There was nothing to laugh about. Even people all around awkwardly stopped to look at the strange and overtly loud laugh of this ‘King’, which made The White Haired Man lower his head and pull his hoodie lower down. For some reason, he had the sense that he would be recognized or that one of Don Jodes men were out late and snooping around. And oddly enough, that instinct has only crept in at that moment. His anger had clouded his thoughts and he didn’t realize he wasn’t keeping such a low profile at the moment.

When The Blue Haired Child basically forced the position upon the Violet Teared Pirate, saying his it had to be him specifically, he rolled his eyes. What was with this twisted sense of thinking, as if the scrawny brat could tell the future. The way Sora saw it, this boy thought destiny was laid out for him to view like a newspaper and he just had to read it. The absurdity, to come all this way just to see a man he had never seen before, it was annoying … yet somehow admirable. Maybe it was just the old pirate speaking within The Betrayed Inventor, but some sort of respect was beginning to surface for “The King”. Yes, he was a crazy brat who had dumbly shouted out a damn in a drunken stupor and told a man he was his first mate. But other than that, there was a sense of strength eradicating from the youth he carried. And Sora realized his anger wasn’t signaling to him, because the kid’s aura of energy was stronger. He was determined.

When Rowdy slapped his hand onto the older former-pirates shoulder, and announced just exactly what Sora felt, the fox-faced man frowned. Yes, he wasn’t having as much fun or joy as a mafia. It was just about the shittiest thing alive. But for someone else to voice it, he felt mad. Grabbing the kids arm, he threw it off. Then taking a step forward, he grabbed the front of the kids shirt and lifted him slightly, looking back into the youths eyes.

”You think the life of a pirate is easy? Do you realize how much I’ve lost in my life? To call what I’ve lived a ‘life’ is a joke to lives. I’ve suffered, persevered and for what? I don’t even have a goal. So yeah, maybe ‘fun’ isn’t on an all-time high but at least I have purpose. Something I’ve never had before.” Even though it was supposed to come out angered, Sora finished it realizing he had said it in a wise and almost saddened voice. Letting go of the collar, he took a step back, pulling off his hoodie in frustration and running a hand through his snowy locks. The Mafia Man took a deep breath and turned around in an attempt to see something else besides the face of the youth. And that’s when he saw them.

Jodes men were walking towards Sora’s position. About five men, dressed in varied colored suits holding weapons at the ready. Sora knew they were coming for him, he knew they had caught on to something. Even if he wasn’t sure, Sora felt that they were there to do more than joke around with the ‘Old Seadog’. Shit was about to go down.

Turning around, Sora grabbed the shoulder of the younger man and spun him around, guiding him to follow The White Haired man. With his free hand, he pulled his hoodie back over his head and bought his head a bit lower to the kid’s level. ”We’re being followed. I know you’re a pain in the ass but I can’t just leave you. Listen, as of right now we are partners. Do as I say and if you’re as strong as you seem, you can help me kick some ass. Got it? Lets go.”

Continuing on, The Violet Teared Man began to scan his surroundings. There had to be a way out of this situation. And somehow with this kid at his side, he felt that it wouldn’t be too hard. Honestly two ass kickers were always better than one.

[EriChar]

“Yeah, the sea can take a lot away from you, can’t it?” The violet tear’s reflection striking a chord with the recollections of Rowdy King, the dark-haired drunk’s eyes for a moment seemed to lose their focus on the man in front of him and flash back to a life at sea that lasted both years and the few seconds he remained silent for. The image of a the man who had made this rambunctious youth everything he was today in his last moments with a bloody mouthed grin was of course a moment that had pained this boy a great deal, it had caused an enduring sense of sadness within him, but that wasn’t all it inspired.
“But, if you only look at what it takes, you forget what it can give you as well.” At least as far as Rowdy was concerned, he couldn’t recall Evard LeGrand without having a mixture of great joy and sorrow; for that is how those years with him had been. While the memory of the man’s death and his own role in it still haunted King, it was the life leading up to that point which had always been the most important. In the two years since ol’ ‘Grand’ Ev had died, slowly the dark haired boy had accepted the outcome and come to terms with it, and now with the distance of two summers between, he could see beyond that horrible day to the happy ones that were before it. I suppose one could argue that while some might see the glass as half full, and other the reverse, neither option was wrong and only together was the answer right. There were two ways to look at things, positively, and negatively, but the truth was probably a mix of both.

Snapped from his reminiscence by the hand and word of the would-be crewman, to his delight, at last the older boy seemed to be caving to the whims of destiny and the King’s own design. It had taken some doing, and the seafarer wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he had said or done to finally convince the ‘Volker’ of his destined role at his side, but neither did he particular care for the specifics. A yes was a yes, after all.
“Ha ha, I knew I’d get you in the end!” Exclaiming happily and throwing his arms into the air, either the stupidity or simple stupor of the boy denied him any real ability to be stealthy or subtle, and though the young man alongside seemed to be trying to avoid attention, Rowdy himself was far too excited by the news to be in any form of control. After all, this was the first step, it was done. All those months and years of waiting for his own crew, one so brilliant that it would have given the ‘Grand Pirates’ a run for their money and left even Whitebeard’s divisions looking like a rag tag collection of old men and little girls, were finally at an end. Finally, the King Pirates had been born.

So, he needs my help, huh? Curious as to what exactly the now hooded young man seemed to be hiding from, Rowdy continued to peer around himself for sign of something suspicious, his lips pursed and eyes looking along his nose like a child trying to remain aloof. For a nakama, the first one he had made for his crew of kings in fact, no matter what the job was; the captain would get it done. That was his role, after all; while many unfamiliar with the sea might have the opinion that the leader of a ship is usually the most selfish; chasing their own desires and making the leg work be done by ‘lower’ crewmembers, as far as this King was concerned, nothing could be further from the truth.
“As your partner, I’ll kick anyone’s ass who tries to hurt you…” Calmly reassuring the bounty target and cracking his knuckles, with a sense of thrill for the battle that hadn’t been felt for two anniversaries, and a drive that seemed stronger than ever, the boisterous boy prepared for battle. This was what a captain was, while they might give out the orders and expect a lot, but they also made sure that their crew could follow their orders and make good on expectation. Monsters lived out there, both in the form of strange creatures and men, and a captain had to be the most monstrous of all. If he was to protect the crew he saw before him, Haru included, Rowdy King would be more savage and strong than any beast of the deep or mammoth of the land, he would become a greater threat than even a Yonkou or the legendary continent puller. Being the right hand of Rowdy was the destiny foreseen for Haru Volker, but was of the dark-locked lad himself? Why, that was simple; he’d become the king of captains; the greatest man with the greatest crew in the world.