Empty Steel, Dancing Wood [Mari & Flynn]

[Vio]

With the footsteps of Flynn Toctic behind her, Miss Anette felt reassured of her actions. Stepping into unknown territory had certainly been asking for trouble, but she had discarded her hesitance and had persevered, all for the sake of Mahogani. Saving her most treasured 'friend' was her priority; allowing her usual natures to hold her back would be a direct betrayal of her grandfather's trust. Even as the door was closed behind them, allowing the dingy darkness to swallow the unlikely compatriots whole, the unusually courageous carpenter retained a brave face.

Where are you, Mahogani? I know you're here, but where? As rosé eyes adjusted to the dim torchlight of the corridor, the woodcarver considered her options. As of current, the only 'weapon' she really had to defend herself was Sycamore, and while the mantis marionette was adept at combat, he could be especially difficult to control. The likes of Alder would have been somewhat more useful, considering the confined space in which they were currently located. While the energetic form of the insectoid idol was more powerful, one wrong move could get him tangled in the wires and leave the timorous teen vulnerable.

At least Mister Toctic is here to help. I'd never have been able to find her on my own. Coming to a halt, the dank and poorly illuminated corridor now flat, the beaten up crook turned back to them. The mixtures of shadow and light certainly did not do any justice to his already battered body, darkness and bruising barely distinguishable from one another. Even as Mari listened to his words, she was beginning to understand just how annoying Swiper's accent actually was. Compared to her relatively well spoken self, that backstreet blabber could barely even be classified as speech.

"So, what you mean is, you want us to walk as far in as you can convince us to, have us wait for you to assemble and prep anyone that can hold a weapon. Then, when negotiations take a suspiciously quick turn for the worst, we can be trapped in a strategically advantageous point, where you can kill us at your leisure." The far more comprehensible words of the doctor were clear, and certainly correct in many regards, at least to the thoughts of the puppeteer in pink. While her mind had considered such possibilities even as she had stepped into the gloom, she had suppressed her worries. As Swiper walked away, his footwork hastened perhaps with the fear instilled by the lanky longarm's threats, Miss Anette herself was tempted to give pursuit.

"Do you really think they'll give her back?" Clutching Sycamore a little tighter to her chest, as if unwilling to let another go for whatever reason, the cherry blossom haired girl turned to look at her silver-haired companion. From her point of view, the scientist seemed somewhat more sinister, his features sharpened by the shade. It was hard to believe, considering his niceties, that she had been fearful of this man earlier. But, the new 'mask' seemed to express his disdain for the criminals more than ever; intimidating, in a compassionate sort of way.
"Also, these strings are made of steel. Musical wire." Duly noting the familiar expression of a man lost in thought, the puppet maker could not help but add to an answer she had given earlier. It had not been that long ago, in reality, but it seemed like the duo had been on the hunt all day. Their meeting had certainly been unusual, but even Mari clearly recalled the interest that the intellectual had expressed in the workings of her puppets. She at least owed him something for his assistance, even if that something was just information. Knowledge was a valuable resource; the information stored in the pages of Gepetto's journals were a testament to that fact.

[Deleted]

 
  The echoes of conversation had crept down the hallway, but the comment had drawn Flynn's attention away from what was going on. His original intent had been to attempt to listen in on the conversation, but he found himself somewhat distracted by the explanation. Piano wire, was it? It made sense.... the stuff was supposed to be insanely tough for it's size, and garrotes had been considered for an upgrade, but dismissed as boring. However, now that he thought about it, Piano wire had some possibilities.... Braided together, it would make a decent cable.... Perhaps if he could find a way to move it, it could be used as a slashing weapon. The girl had controlled the leaping puppet, Sycamore? But she wasn't standing above him... clearly there was a method to have it stiff and firm.... Perhaps it could be used as a stabbing weapon, erupting suddenly like a long needle from an extremity. 

 Flynn would have continued his considerations, but more pressing matters had introduced themselves. From the door that Swiper had entered, a figure was emerging. Clad in an open jacket, with no shirt beneath, and a large pair of tattered pants, he was oddly dressed. Quite hobo-like, one would probably classify it. The Cyborg was impressed, however, by the large, heavy white beard that the man sported. It totally covered the top half of his chest, and most of his shoulders as well. From within the mass of hair, a pair of green eyes glared. "So, you're the ones who claim  to own the puppet I recently received? How do I know it's really yours?"

Stepping forward, the Marine sighed. "Well, for one, I'm sure my friend here could give you an exhaustively exact description of it. But that's not the issue. I have no interest in dealing with this island's authorities lack of effort in dealing with you, but as far as I have seen, the most illegal thing you're engaged in is petty theft and criminal incompetence for your subordinates. Attempting to take you in would be pointless, and honestly, stealing from drunk tourists who would otherwise waste their cash in the casinos doesn't really rank high on my list of crimes. From your appearance, you don't really appear to be that well off, and frankly, my attitude toward nobles is somewhat soured." The cyborg finished his monologue, waving a finger in a bored, but illustrative manner. The large man frowned. "A white haired Long-arm.... What is your name, Dog of the World Government?"


"I am Doctor Flynn Toctic, Marine Irregular, and Prototype CX-0 of the Cazador Project." He really had been saying this a lot today. It sounded like bragging, he had to admit. Still he was proud of what he had accomplished. Being an actual licensed doctor was not an easy thing to achieve, especially in his disciplines. Any satisfaction that the man felt, however, was shattered by the Boss's response."Ah. No wonder, then, you come in here so arrogantly. Bow, boys." The sarcasm was evident, as was the hateful glare in his eyes. "We have the blood of Nobility here before us! Did you really think that we wouldn't know? Your families trading ships visit this island constantly, supplying the palaces of hedonism that replaced everything about this place! I left this island to sail the seas for what I believed in, and when I returned, the rich had turned it into yet another monument to their greed! I will not sit here and let yo-"

As the man had spoken, Flynn's normally pale face had begun to redden, and his teeth to grind. With a growl, the Marine kicked off from the ground, grabbing onto the lapels of the man's jacket. Swiper and his brother inhaled, ready to yell for assistance, but the big thief gestured for them to hold on. The longarm, while not quite as tall as the Boss, was still able to look him in the eye. He was also not making any move to attack him. After a moment, the Doctor spoke. "I didn't know that. I wouldn't know that. I haven't kept track of my families idiotic ventures for a moment. I have spent my entire life attempting to distance myself from that pack of imbecilic, over-privileged, boring and useless swine that I am forced to share a last name with. I completely agree with your assessment. This island is gaudy, and I dislike the constant stream of the wealthy wasting what they are lucky to have. Do not, for a moment, compare me to those people.


Breathing heavily, as his burst of rage abated, Flynn continued."I am going to let go, and you and the girl are going to discuss that puppet and why you're not giving it back. You have a reason, because if you didn't care about it, giving it over to get us to leave would be the most sensible option. During said discussion, I will thank you to not refer to me as a noble. I fought for every ounce of power I possess, literally making myself what I am. I may not have a dream, or ideals that I follow, but I will thank you not to spit on that, at the very least." His hands unclenched, and he stepped back, leaving Boss, very still, in his former position. Returning to his position next to Mari, the doctor folded his arms behind his back, and waited for her to speak.

[Vio]

Rosé eyes fixed upon the door, patiently awaiting for events to unfold. With the much appreciated assistance of Doctor Flynn Toctic, Mari Anette was closer to finding her missing marionette than she could ever have been. Eyes widening, the cherry blossom haired youth watched intently as a figure emerged, an immense one at that. Jacket open, bare chested, and a great big bushy beard to boot. A scruffy person he was, but by no means was he the thuggish brute that she had expected to see.

"So, you're the ones who claim to own the puppet I recently received? How do I know it's really yours?" Green eyes glared through a mass of grey-white, the very stare of the boss seemed to crawl across the timid teenager's body like a scuttling swarm of ants. It unnerved her even more, a shiver racing up and down along her spine until finally his prying eyes moved from her and onto Sycamore. Even then, it felt as if he was exploring every inch of the three foot puppet's frame. His diction was clear, his voice deep; intelligent, or it least more so than his subordinates.

How does he know so much? He has Mahogani, I know, but where is he hiding her? Thinking to herself, the worried woodcarver scanned the area around the 'boss' as he and Flynn conversed. There was no sign of the redwood doll, no sign of the treasure which she was trying to reclaim. The only place she could be was in the room that he had just exited from, but rushing in would get her nowhere in a hurry, the giant of a man easily blocking the passageway; not to mention the presence of Swiper behind him.
Nobility? Officer Toctic is a noble? Watching as the devil-horned doctor made his feelings about his so called 'family' known, Mari could not help but consider why any person would give up such as prestigious life for anything so average. That said, she would have given anything to live more comfortably; everything save for her puppets, that is. She had been born at sea, raised by her grandfather; she never had the luxuries available to her that the likes of Flynn would have. It struck her as odd.

"I am going to let go, and you and the girl are going to discuss that puppet and why you're not giving it back. You have a reason, because if you didn't care about it, giving it over to get us to leave would be the most sensible option. During said discussion, I will thank you to not refer to me as a noble. I fought for every ounce of power I possess, literally making myself what I am. I may not have a dream, or ideals that I follow, but I will thank you not to spit on that, at the very least." Powerful words spoken, the lanky longarm loosed his grip upon the jacket of the Boss and backed away, arms crossing behind his back as he returned to stand next to the puppeteer. The eyes of the bearded man moved once more to meet her own light pink hues, sending her into a mildly cold sweat.

"The marionette y-you have belongs t-to me." Clutching tightly to Sycamore, the puppeteer in pink struggled to get her words out. It was like her very voice was a puppet, her nerves the strings, restraining her ability to speak clearly. The bearded boss raised an eyebrow, remaining silent in respect, but still managing to suppress her like a raging river.
"Please, miss. Take your time and describe this marionette to me." His words simultaneously calming and patronising, the immense figure took a quick glance towards the silver-haired cyborg before his deep jade eyes scanned the timorous teen once more. Taking a deep breath, her eyes closed for a moment to accurately picture the puppet in question, the puppet maker prepared to speak.

"Mahogani is three feet tall when standing, made of dark redwood. She looks like she is wearing armour, like a samurai. Her hair is styled into two buns and is dark brown with a slight red to it. She has a white face, with rosy cheeks and amber eyes." Speaking as if reciting a poem, Miss Anette gave the full description of Mahogani, her brain highlighting the details as she spoke in an attempt to convey the exact appearance. Honestly, there were no others like Mahogani in the world - or so she believed - and her words had already expressed the unique style of the swordswoman. The only detail left out was the wooden katana that currently sat in her backpack.

"Alright. By your explanation, it seems both your missing puppet and the one in my possession bear many similarities. May I ask your name, young lady?" Another raise of the eyebrow, but by now it was obvious to the youth that the marionettes were one and the same. Nobody in the world could craft a puppet like her grandfather could, and Mahogani was one of the ex-marine's finest works.
"Mari Anette." Finally revealing her identity to the boss, the cautious craftswoman wondered just why he wanted to know. Still, she would do anything to get back Mahogani, and telling a person her name was not exactly costing her anything.
"Ah, I see. Anette..." There was something in the way he said her surname that made Mari tremble, an ominousness in both the way he phrased it, and in the way his eyes narrowed as he did so. The bearded boss had already shown knowledge of one 'famous' family, so it was very likely he knew of another.

[Deleted]

   
  Narrowing his eyes as the pair spoke, Flynn's thoughts raced. The man obviously had heard of that last name before.... She had spoken of her grandfather making that puppet. Mahogani... Of the puppets she had shown, this one was the most clearly oriented for battle. If she had inherited skill from her family, a fighting style that utilized puppets, her Grandfather was the most likely candidate for the source. It would fit with the apparent age of the man before them. He was at least 3 times the longarm's own age, meaning that it was entirely reasonable to assume that he and Ms. Annette's Grandfather came from a similar era. 

 But how would the pair have known one another? The man was a criminal, but apparently, not one of particularly high skill. He could have been a stronger contender in the past... He had said something about leaving this island, sailing the seas.... Well, that made one aspect fairly easy to guess. A Pirate, then. Or at any rate, a former pirate. He was on land, which made it kind of hard for him to be a "Person who robs or attacks ships at sea." 

 To be fair, the World Government definition was that anyone who raised a Jolly Roger was a pirate. Though the Marines seemed to typically ignore most Pirates without a bounty, even though there wasn't really a monetary reward. The land equivalent was Mountain Bandits, but those were considered a lesser problem. Besides, they weren't really on a mountain. Basement Bandits? Tunnel Thieves, perchance? Mole Mobsters could work, actually. But he was getting off track. 

 The man was narrowing his own eyes now, it seemed. Lot of eye narrowing occuring in not a lot of time, down here. It appeared he didn't enjoy the memories the Annette name implied. It could be a crew mate that betrayed him, or... No, that was it. "Still sore, are we? It has to have been a while, I'm sure, but Officer Annette beat you pretty soundly, right?" It was a shot in the dark, indeed, but it was a good guess. He had no idea what rank her grandfather could have been, but his being a Marine made sense. She had been unusually quick to trust him for such a nervous girl. If someone she loved had been a Marine, it fit quite well. Time to test his luck, then...

"This is a bit sad, really. A former Pirate, hiding in the basement of some hovel, bullying a girl who's related to a former foe. I thought your kind was always on about pride, and dreams, and ideals? So far, of the ones I have encountered? It's trending more towards the pathetic, overworked hasbeen. Even if one of them could make things explode with his palms." Well, that had been a bit personal. Hopefully it didn't send the man into a homicidal rage. He didn't quite seem the type, however.

"I hate to interject again"  Hmm, perhaps the copious snark there had been unwise, hindsight 20/20, move forward before the large Santa-like man has a chance to be angry. "Every single person in this room knows you have her property. I don't really care about your old grudges. I don't particularly want to have to use violence again. I'm quite tired, and sore, and I think I may need to replace some more body parts with metal. However, this does not mean I will hesitate to be unpleasant. " Pulling his arms from behind his back, the long-arm threw a punch at the wall. Right before impact, a click could be heard in the still subterranean air. The blow rocketed forward, as the internal pistons fired, the recently added Jet Dial increasing the speed and force exponentially.

 As the doctor drew his arm back, the eyes of the thieves were drawn to the wall of their hideout. To be more specific, the large hole that had been added to it. The wooden surface was shattered, splinters and chunks of wood floating through the air. With a smile, one that showed altogether too many teeth, the horned Marine repeated his previous statement. "I will not hesitate to get unpleasant. Puppet, now, Explanation, quick on it's heels. "

[Vio]

For a short while, the Boss seemed to be mulling over something, as if the family name of Anette was familiar to him. Mari simply watched, and waited, her patience beginning to wear thin. She wanted to charge in, locate Mahogani, and get out again. But that was not going to happen, by any stretch of the imagination. Despite the bearded behemoth being easily in his sixties, he was still a living wall. Besides that, an unknown number of his subordinates most likely lay in wait beyond that door.

"Still sore, are we? It has to have been a while, I'm sure, but Officer Anette beat you pretty soundly, right?" A guess it may have been, but an educated one at that. Miss Anette herself looked to the devil-horned doctor for a moment, at first wondering if he had perhaps met her grandfather. However, on second glance, that theory was unlikely. Despite his white hair, Flynn was still relatively young; no chance of him even having started his service by the time the puppet master had retired.
He has to be right. If he was a pirate back then, then maybe Grandpa fought against him? That has to be true, right, Sycamore? Effectively conversing to the mantis marionette without need for words, the cherry blossom haired girl could not help but wonder just how legendary her grandfather had been. She knew he had achieved the rank of Rear Admiral before his retirement, but was he of lower rank when he and the bearded fellow met? It all depended on when, of course.

"Even if one of them could make things explode with his palms." What? It seemed that the lean longarm was beginning to go off on a random tangent, and then it struck her. Perhaps that was why the silver-haired cyborg was all battered and bruised? It made sense.
"Every single person in this room knows you have her property. I don't really care about your old grudges. I don't particularly want to have to use violence again. I'm quite tired, and sore, and I think I may need to replace some more body parts with metal. However, this does not mean I will hesitate to be unpleasant." The sound of clicking making itself present in the dim silence of the underground, the timid teenager felt her eyes drawn to the source. Her companion's elongated arm now positioned towards the wooden wall, rosé hues barely had time to register exactly what was happening before the augmented fist punched a hole in the wall. The crackling noise of splintering wood pierced the ears of the puppeteer, flinching and turning her head to avoid the spray of material that erupted from the point of impact to fill the air.

Are you okay, Sycamore? Looking down to the puppet held in her arms, the woodcarver moved a protective hand away from the strange face of the insectoid idol. Out of instinct, she had tried to protect him from the debris. Not that it mattered, of course, it was just a wooden puppet. Throwing splinters at a marionette was like throwing water on a duck; a pointless exercise. As she looked up again, however, there was an apparent degree of disappointment from the spectacular beard man. His lackeys appeared to be as startled by the display of strength as she was, but the leader himself was motionless, eyeing the hole as if expecting something more even as the cyborg finished his statement.

"Hmmm. Was that supposed to intimidate me?" Finally moving, the Boss brushed away the wood fragments that had become stuck to his tangled beard. His tone of voice, the words themselves, all indicated the lack of effect that Flynn's 'display' should have had. If anything, the damage to his (most likely wrongly acquired) property had only served to provoke him a little; he was calm, but his voice seemed a little more hastened in comparison to his formerly bored and monotonous tones.
"He was Commodore Anette when I met him. I was in the prime of my life, setting sail with my crew and headed for the Grand Line. Gold Roger had not long been executed, his words had inspired us just as they had inspired others! But then he appeared." Bitter tones in his voice now much more noticeable than before, the visage of clenching and slightly yellowed teeth appeared amongst the mass of white. Stepping back a little, half expecting him to charge forward in anger, the puppeteer in pink watched quietly. A deep breath taken, the former pirate captain turned, green eyes sweeping over the likes of Mari and Flynn and even Sycamore before his frame vanished into the doorway.

"You're not getting that puppet back, girl!" Parting words full of hatred and aggression, Miss Anette herself felt an unusual heat within her chest. A sinking feeling quickly replaced with a rising flame. Thoughts focused solely on the rescue of the swordswoman marionette, the craftswoman charged forwards, relinquishing caution for the sake of an inanimate object. Some could call it foolishness, others would call it noble.
"Give back Mahogani!" Sliding to a halt, now beyond the invisible barrier that the bearded being had previously made, the yearning youth opened her eyes wide at the sight she was greeted with. Ignoring the dozen or so visible men, the immense chamber was filled with stacks of lumber; varying hues of different types of wood piled about quite neatly. Any carpenter's dream, if not for the swirling clouds of fine dust and the insufficient illumination. The puppeteer screamed out once more, voice trembling like that of a distraught child.

"Where is she!"

[Deleted]

Well, it had been too much to hope, really, that things would go as planned. Someone who had set sail in the first wave of the Great Pirate Era would be harder to scare than one of the new batch of imbeciles that had shipped out over the last two years. At least he appeared to be the only one. His subordinates had been frightened, which meant they were probably not particularly good fighters. Swiper had been down after a single blow. Granted, the Jet Dials wouldn't last forever, and there was no telling how many goons were hiding down here, and how capable they might be. He could detect sawdust in the air just beyond the large man, the odd, but distinctive smell a familiar odor. The grainy stuff was excellent for soaking up all kinds of nasty things, and thus had been a fairly constant presence in operating rooms, and other areas in the labs.



As the boss continued, Flynn's struggle to not make a smug face grew to almost intolerable levels. He had nailed that one, then. Although, while it may have been quite accurate, it also seemed like it had resulted in a less beneficial effect than hoped. Commodore Anette, hmm? Interesting... aaaand now everything was going to hell. Wonderful. In the space of a few moments, the pirate, who Flynn decided was now to be known as Chauncy Q. Boss, had turned and entered the room that his bulk had been blocking. Swearing under his breath, the Marine dashed in after Chau- Well, after Mari, rather, who had suddenly changed, rather dramatically. The shy, quiet girl was now roaring back at the man who had cowed her completely a moment or so before.



That puppet must be incredibly important. It was a marvel of engineering, but the long-arm could only assume that it meant something to her personally as well. It was hard for him to relate. Personal attachments were not a concept he was particularly accustomed to. His family was a pack of useless nobles, and he preferred calm, and order, and such. Granted, as he had realized earlier, chaos did have it's own allure. The thrill of battle was, perhaps intoxicating was the word he wanted. He was not a drinker, and had never, as far as he was aware, become "Hammered."



Oddly, the doctor could almost hear two voices, arguing, as he considered what to do next. It was like a debate in his head. Really, he thought, as he passed through the doorway, it was a good thing his mind moved as fast as it did. He'd be taking all day of it if his thoughts were constrained to speaking speed. "Come now, enough", whispered the calm voice. "We need to be exacting, or this will end poorly." "No," said the roaring voice, dull but there. "He defied us. He is threatening to destroy our goal. Let him bleed, and fear us." "But we are injured, and weak. Let us see what the girl may do." "Now it is you who is rash. One does send the cub after a fresh kill. We must tenderize this steak, that it be more palatable." "Very well, This is acceptable to me. Let us proceed then." As Flynn slid his foot back, preparing, the voices faded away. It was always good to get a second opinion....



The pistons in his legs fired and he lept forward, springing across the room. Drawing his arms back, he readied the pistons, as the newly dubbed Chauncy the Pirate turned, hearing a whoosh. The Tinker's fists slammed towards his throat, nearly blurring as they sped through the air. Gagging, the massive man stumbled back, a bruise beginning to swell. Not far away, Mahogani lay, waiting. Around the room, large men turned, shocked, as their boss, red with fury, tried to speak through his injured windpipe. Flynn, his eye's half closed, smirked at the man. "Impressed now? No need to respond, I was getting tired of your whining anyway. God, but you talk big for a man bullying a child for the time her grandfather injured your massive ego. " Clapping, slowly and sarcastically, the longarm nodded toward the puppet. Despite his relaxed appearance, he was in a fair amount of pain at the moment. The kick from that double punch had shaken him up, and his bandages were beginning to stick to his skin again. The warm feeling there was not a good sign.

[Vio]

Standing there in massive room of stray timber and sawdust, Mari Anette realised just how much of a brave façade she had placed upon herself, all for the sake of a single puppet. There was no denying her loyalty to her family name and the craft associated with it, a loyalty that was perhaps very much like that of a marine. Still, she had not set herself much of a goal in life; her duty was to find her missing father and make sure to perfect the puppet fighting styles that Gepetto had employed. As of now, that was all she cared about as she demanded the attentions of the bearded behemoth.

"Please! Give her back to me!" Her voice magnified by the hollowness of the warehouse itself, the usually quiet carpenter managed to project her voice well enough that it echoed several times over. Her screams of desperation, now on the verge of tears, permeated the stale and dusty air. The Boss stopped for a moment, but alas he continued his steady pace, ignoring the puppeteer's plight. Still, her screams had alerted the crook's followers, an assembly of tattered and glum looking thugs loitering in the shadows, flocking ever so slowly towards their 'king'.
What's that- Attention drawn away for just a fraction of a second, the cherry blossom haired girl was soon passed by the silver haired cyborg as he sprang forth. The well known sound of thick air being displaced, Mari watched with rosé eyes as the pea greens of the beaded fellow turned back to them. Met with an empowered pair of fists to the exceptionally furry throat, the former pirate gagged and stumbled backwards, only just managing to steady himself against a crate. The attack, so sudden, made the entire audience jerk with anticipation; the fellow thugs all stepped inwards, only to stop in their tracks as Doctor Toctic spoke.

"Impressed now? No need to respond, I was getting tired of your whining anyway. God, but you talk big for a man bullying a child for the time her grandfather injured your massive ego." The harsh and sarcastic sting of Flynn's words certainly made an impact, the face of the Boss mixing blues and reds, flushed with anger as he gulped in air. The youth herself did a quick scan of the vicinity, her eyes finally meeting the fiery ambers that belonged to her comrade. There lay Mahogani, sprawled atop another crate, a handful of criminals effectively guarding her from a distance of a yard or two.

"Boss! You okay?" One voice echoed, the concern of his comrades made clear. Perhaps he inspired them? Or perhaps he intimidated them? He was old and experienced, that much was clear. Miss Anette simply kept her gaze fixated on the unblinking eyes of the swordswoman doll, her grip on Sycamore beginning to loosen somewhat as she gave into her emotions. Soft tears trickled down rosy cheeks; not of sorrow, but of joy. Mahogani was safe, at least.
"Yes. *Cough* Gah! And you call me the bully? *Cough* My boys got me this marionette as a gift! And you try to take it away from me!?" Coughing between words, the elderly figure stood up once more, his height even more impressive than before. Fists clenched, eyes wide and full of aggravation, he bellowed at the craftswoman and the scientist with a far clearer voice. No longer was he choking and spluttering, though the rhythmic swelling of his chest muscles indicated that he was still somewhat breathless.
"When they brought it here, I recognised the craftsmanship immediately! That white face brings back memories, good and bad! It may not be the same one he used that day, but to possess it is a privilege!" Breathing ragged, the white bearded male demonstrated yet more knowledge of his past dealings with the former marine officer. The timorous teenager, remaining utterly silent through his outrage, now dropped Sycamore to the floor. The mantis marionette bounced softly on spring-loaded limbs as it hit the cold, hard surface beneath their feet.

For Mahogani, Sycamore. We will fight for her. I'm sure you're itching to get going. Unnoticed by the gathering of men that littered the building, the puppeteer in pink slowly and quietly withdrew the control bars from the pockets of her overalls, squatting down behind the insectoid idol that rested before her. So far, the bearded beast seemed more focused on his vengeful monologue than anything else, his booming voice reverberating through the rafters.
"Commodore Anette... He ruined my dreams! You'd never expect such a tame-looking man to be so terrifying an opponent! We spotted their ship and tried to plan an escape, but within a minute or two he was there on the deck!" By the way that the 'retired' captain spoke, it seemed as if these memories were clear in his mind, as if they had happened just a day or two ago. His very figure trembling now as he recited his encounter, all were oblivious to the steady unravelling of steel strings.
"He had a marionette with a white face and blue eyes, holding a longsword made of wood. My crew surrounded him, but within seconds they were all lying on deck! Next thing I knew, the vessel was sinking. An entire Carrack! With a wooden sword, he cut the ship clean in two!" Mari's own eyes widened, her actions pausing for a moment. Her grandfather? Slicing a ship in half with a puppet? Was that even possible? Her attacks, or at least Mahogani's, could barely cut the outer layer of skin; and the wooden katana was quite sharp considering its material. Still, by now Miss Anette had done what she had wanted to do, a series of chi-clack sounds emanating from her position as she reconnected the cables to the joints of her puppet.

"I don't know whether what you said is true or not..." The yearning youth now stood and stepped back from the huddled form of Sycamore, control bars visible in her delicate fingers as she raised them to head height. Responding to the tautness, the slack figure of the mantis marionette sprang to life once more, reanimated by the silvery strings of life that bound him to the puppeteer. Adjusting the position and tilt of the control bars ever so slightly, the entire insect form of the idol changed, and with it its demeanour. A formerly happy and energetic puppet was now standing prepared for battle, wooden sickles tensed and ready to unleash their power. Streaks of drying tears lined the cheeks of the woodcarver, sorrowful desperation now replaced with a look of frightening determination, broken by the faintest of smiles.
"But, I do know that we're going to win back Mahogani!" A shout of preparation to issue the challenge, the pink puppeteer was set in her ways. Her declaration accompanied by a short twist of the wooden crosses that she held in her hands, the combat ready doll followed suit. Talons flicking out swiftly, as if cutting the air before him, before returning to their tensed positioning. Outnumbered? perhaps. But while in control of Sycamore, Mari Anette was a person who loved excitement, an avatar of the mantis mannequin's own personality.

[Deleted]

 As Chauncy coughed, and ranted, Flynn's secretly pained smirk faded. By the end of the pirate's rant, the longarm was rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, you don't... what are you even talking about? Seriously now. Your "Boys" STOLE this from her! Off her back! Also, you were the one that decided to be a prick about this! Your moral high ground is a hole!" Gritting his teeth, he flung his arms up. "I mean, really Chauncy! It's the man's grandaughter! Inheritance laws do exist here, correct?" Looking down, the long-arm noted that the large man had gone white. All previous bravado had vanished, if but for a moment. "H-how do you know all of these things! I've spent twenty years going by Captain Damoc! I haven't told anyone my real first name in decades!"

The room went dead silent for a moment, before Swiper slowly raised a hand. "Ummm, boss? oi think 'e was referring to you by 'is nickname foi you. He seems tae give poiple unflattering nicknames as a sign o' derision... 'e keeps calling me Swiper....oi think it moight 'ave been just what 'e thought o' at the toime.." Damoc looked up at the raggedy thief, then back at Flynn, who was holding his mouth and stomach, and shaking intensely. Little snippets of laughter could be hear leaking through his tightly clasped fingers, and his eyes were wet with hysterical tears.

 The awkward pause was broken by a dramatic declaration, and the gang, almost relieved at the distraction, turned as one to observe the girl. The recent bout of revelations and embarrassment had distracted all of them from what she had been doing. If he was ever asked, the longarm would swear that was entirely on purpose, and all according to plan. This was total bullshit, but really, Flynn was pretty sure that most intelligent planners made as many contingencies as possible, and adapted to/took credit for any surprises or lucky breaks they recieved. It was what he did, and it seemed to work pretty well. He should probably focus on what was going on, rather than congratulate himself. There would be plenty of time for that later.

 At the current interval, it was tactics time. With a squint, and a moment of concentration, his eyes blurred again, then sharpened. Ban Fuirseior: Creachaidor. Glancing around the room, Flynn's momentarily focused gaze took in the possible combatants. First up was Chauncy, or Damoc, as he was apparently known as to his subordinates. He would likely be going after Mari. Dramatic grudge, all that nonsense. The only other adversaries in the room were the carpenters, Swiper, and his "Bruv". The pair of thieves were likely too cowardly to fight unless desperate, and the pirate didn't seem like the type to gang up. This would be a duel. He just needed to ensure that everyone was on the same page, then.

 Moments later, as the captain shifted, moving into an obvious battle stance, one of the workers walked forward, grinning. He was wearing a newsboy cap, a tight black shirt, and loose pants, made from some thick leather. Extending a gloved hand, the criminal carpenter beckoned to the Marine. "Come on, pretty boy. I ain't gonna let you do that cowardly throat punching shite you did on Chau- Err. I mean, Boss." Damoc had tossed a glare over his massive shoulder at the beginnings of his real name, one that was enough to cow his subordinate back into position. "Yeah, anyway, come over here, we don't want ya messin' with the bosses battle, eh?"

 As the man went to put his hand on Flynn's shoulder, The longarm sighed, and raised his right arm, fingers clenched. A moment later, the man was flying back into the small crowd his friends had made, his eyes rolled back and his torso nearly indented. Rolling his eyes, and trying not to grit his teeth, the doctor quipped "I work with metal, and I'm made from it. I already broke a hole in a wooden wall, should have clued you in on how that was going to play out, friend." The "Friend" was the sort that you got from someone whose non-existent patience with your silly antics was dangerously close to turning into outright antagonism.

 Meanwhile, as Damoc tried to ignore the sound of more of his boys getting tossed around, the giant was facing down Mari. Flexing his hands, the former pirate, and apparently masochistic puppet enthusiast, growled out a final warning. "Girl, your grandfather may have beaten us, but you're not your grandfather. I may have gone a bit soft since those dangerous days, but I can still take you and your imitation of his work apart. Remember, you asked for this." With a roar, the man's fist hurtled down, attempting to smash Sycamore where he stood. While the blow was mighty, however, it had obviously slowed with age. Still, to someone as unaccustomed to combat as the teenage puppetress, it could still present a problem.

[Vio]

"Girl, your grandfather may have beaten us, but you're not your grandfather. I may have gone a bit soft since those dangerous days, but I can still take you and your imitation of his work apart. Remember, you asked for this." The immense figure of the former Captain Damoc now loomed over Mari, but despite all the intimidation, the usually timid teenager remained calm. The situation had changed dramatically; no longer was she the unfortunate puppet doomed to sorrow in this unfolding drama. No, now she was the one directing the stage, a position of power which she alone possessed. The stage had been set, the audience? Doctor Toctic and the followers of Chauncy. The actors? Damoc and Sycamore.

Fighting with a marionette is like any performance. All you have to do is know your lines, and wait for your cue. Then it's all just a matter of keeping pace. Rosé eyes focused on the bearded behemoth, Mari recited the methods of puppet combat within her mind. A selection of words that described how one should treat these 'plays', documented within the very first journal of her grandfather. As the gargantuan fist flew down towards Sycamore, the puppeteer in pink pulled back on the control bars. On cue, the insectoid idol hopped back, evading the forceful blow that could easily have broken him.
"Crescendo." Whispering, the woodcarver twisted the wooden crosses in her hands, the steel strings catching the light as she did so. Within a moment, the tensed up hind limbs of her clawed companion extended, firing the puppet forwards and upwards at speed. As he left the ground, the forelegs extended too, the hardened backs of the wooden sickles firing forwards and into the bearded face of the Boss. Despite the fragile frame that the doll possessed, the high tension of the steel strings that ran through his body was more than enough to send the colossal captain stumbling back.

"You brat!" A beefy hand now covering his face, Damoc's anger was clear in his emerald eyes as he stared at the marionette and its 'master'. Miss Anette watched and waited, strings held taut as she watched for the directions needed to make her next move.
First act complete, well done, Sycamore! Now for act two, just don't forget your lines! Keeping still and poised for action, the cherry blossom haired youth just stared the other participant, awaiting his next choice of move. Removing his hand from his face, red marks on the criminal's face revealed where the sharp strikes had landed; one above his left eye, the other against his right cheek. Those would surely bruise later. As he stood, the ex-captain's fists clenched tightly before he strode forwards once more, certainly not afraid of a teenage girl and a piece of wood.

Wait. He's aiming for me! Realising the course of action that Captain Damoc had taken, Mari took a step back, as too did Sycamore. She needed to maintain sufficient distance between herself and her marionette, else her entire fighting style would collapse, but in such an area as this, doing so while dancing around the retired pirate would be difficult. Sycamore was not designed for confined spaces, much more effective in open areas than he could ever be within this dank and dusty space.
"That blow stung, I'll give you that! But it's a far cry from what he managed to do. Besides, if there's one thing I've learned about that way of fighting, it's that a puppet is useless without its puppeteer!" A walk now turning into a run, the bearded beast barrelled towards the petite puppet maker, this time completely ignoring the presence of the emerald entity. He was right, of course. If the strings were severed, if the controller was disabled, then the puppets themselves became nothing more than a lifeless piece of wood.

"Besides! I bet you can't even move as long as you're controlling that 'toy' of yours!" As Chauncy growled out his analysis, the puppeteer in pink smiled. His first claim had been correct, but his second was far from the truth.
When your current placement is in peril, make sure to reposition yourself according to how the battle plays out. Like any act, the actors and actresses may move around one another. When your marionette needs to move, make sure to move with them, not against them. Once again, the written words of her grandfather were spoken in her head as she recalled what she had learned. Her opponent was now within a stride of Sycamore, raising a fist ready to deliver a punch. Responding, Mari sidestepped, her feet weaving past one another as she tried to re-establish the distance. As she did so, she made subtle adjustments of the control bars, strings of fine steel guiding the mannequin around and pulling him back.

"Staccato." Sycamore now repositioned, actually leaping into the air as tension in his legs released, the teenager whispered another word to herself. Her delicate hands flicking the control bars back and forth, streaks of pale light flashed up and down the cords, the assault began. In response, Damoc relinquished his offence in favour of defence, arms moving and folding in front of his stomach as Sycamore unleashed a handful of quick strikes. Each blow having only mediocre power in comparison to the force of the Crescendo technique, the rapid assault did exactly what it was needed to do; hold Chauncy back.
"Is that it? Pathetic!" Raising an eyebrow, the furry fellow had obviously expected something a little more potent, when in fact he could easily have walked through the attack. Drawing an arm back, he took a swing at Sycamore, attempting to swat the idol out of the air like any other insect. But, to his annoyance, the puppeteer pulled back hard on the strings, causing Sycamore to be hauled backwards and out of range before the blow landed.

Act two is over. Now, Sycamore, get ready for the final act! Mari Anette's entire body loosened, her hands descending to her flanks and allowing the silvery strings to slacken. In response, the usually tensed form of Sycamore eased, head lowered and claws laying either side, almost as if bowing in submission. Using the opportunity, the craftswoman started to take deep, regulated breaths in order to calm herself, her racing heart pounding in her chest began to slow to a normal pace.

[Deleted]

  
  The carpen-theif crowd had decided that manhandling the angry, oddly proportioned cyborg was perhaps a futile endeavor. It might have been different, had they realized how many expletives the usually effete longarm had waiting on his tongue for the moment he was out of earshot of this group. He had been in a rather unpleasant way the night before, and despite the wonderful job that his physician had done, he was only capable of a certain level of fixing up. Every attack caused a new jolt of pain. He wasn't even going to attempt Gunnagrain at this point. It'd probably tear a nerve or something. 

 It was sickening, how fragile his flesh was. His mechanical parts had survived mostly unscathed, with little more than their routine maintenance being required. His meaty bits, the parts that were supposed to heal and repair themselves, had been torn up by comparison. This was ridiculous! He knew that there were numerous recorded instances of relatively "Normal" humans going up against wood, stone, even solid metal, and causing damage to it with their limbs. People without Haki, Devil Fruits, Cybernetic upgrades, merely shattering or denting it through sheer force. Why, then, was he so bloody after this? Staring at his arm, he envisioned smooth metal instead. That would look much better....

 There was a crash from behind him, and the doctor, as well as the group who was retrieving their friend from a toppled pile of 2x4's, turned to stare in unison. Damoc, despite his bulk, was stumbling back, with Sycamore landing. Clutching his hair mug, the buccaneer had obviously just been hit quite hard. While the mooks immediately began crying out for their boss, the more observant Flynn was looking at Mari. Honestly, he was fairly impressed now. She had seemed so quiet! Well, people had said that about him as well, to be fair. While she was probably not quite on his level of combative lunacy, it was apparent that she was at least familiar with her grandfather's style. A style which had allowed him to cut a ship in half, no less.

 As the girl dodged Chauncy's attempted knock out blow, the doctor placed his hand inside his jacket again, running a digit over the vials within. He had expected to be dosing himself up throughout the day, but the pain had was bracing, in a way, and he needed to be focused at the moment. The pirate's "crew" members, however, were a potential problem. It had already been shown that they thought of each other as a family of sorts. He would have found this odd, but the Toctic Family were essentially legal pirates, with some of the business practices that they enacted. Ignoring a group of people stealing things and living off the proceeds was basically his childhood. Really, however, the group had been a tremendous bother so far, and their taking a nap might be helpful. 

 The main concern was volume. It would take a bit for them to conk out, even on double doses, and he couldn't just jab all of them at once. He only had two hands, for now at least. He had been considering an increase there, but that wasn't much help at the moment. Wasting them could also be an issue. If the mooks resisted the painkillers, which weren't really intended to knock people out anyway, and this fight went poorly for Miss Annette, he would be low on viable options. Flynn was not a particularly caring doctor. He had a habit of being cold, or callous, and put his knowledge of anatomy to a rather more brutal use most of the time. However, there were a few that he did genuinely regard as not-morons. Those whose work he respected didn't really count in that regard, as he had not met them. A few of those he had met so far, though, had given him new cause to question his viewpoint.

 Certain people seemed different. If pressed, the longarm would say, "Vibrant", or "Distinct." These people just stood out more from those he met or passed on the street. Augustus, Mari, that Panda and Loec, all came to mind. There were some like Damoc, or... hmm. That bloke that the Laughing Pirate had drunkenly filled with knives. They had a bit of that quality, but not quite the same. Whenever he interacted with them, he ended up questioning his views. It was good, because really, all people were biased. But it was odd as well. Up until his upgrading, this had never happened. All those he met were uninteresting to him, and Flynn, in turn, had ignored them. But now, things were different. He actually was concerned about what might happen to someone else. Ironically, this thought distracted him from the present danger to that person. 

 Across the room, the Ex-Captain squinted, the folds around his eye layering like pancakes as he stared, curious at the girl before him. "Well, what's this now? So bold before, and yet now you pull back? What's your game? Get me to charge in rashly, blinded by rage, and pull some bullfighting stunt? Not likely."  Reaching behind, he hefted a plank of wood, and after a moment to aim, tossed it at the heir to the Puppet-Fighting Style. With a grunt of exertion, he charged forward again, shoulder forward, and arm drawn back. As he got closer, his meaty keg of a fist swung down, heading towards the insectoid fighter. The upwards swing, Damoc intended, would carry the puppet up into her, knocking her off balance, and getting the strings tangled. "Don't think I don't know how to mess up puppets, girl!" In his smug attitude, however, his awareness had dipped significantly. The area that Mari had backed towards concealed Mahogani, who had been hidden behind a pile of small sections of wood. A pile that now had a plank hurtling at it.

[Vio]

Remaining still and silent, Mari Anette waited patiently, rosé eyes taking a glance over to witness the 'suspense' of the audience for just a brief moment before returning to focus on her opponent. Age may have taken away from Captain Damoc's speed and agility, but by no means had it subtracted from his physical strength and stamina. Still, he was poised for the attack, but reluctant to advance in anticipation of the puppeteer's next move.

"Well, what's this now? So bold before, and yet now you pull back? What's your game? Get me to charge in rashly, blinded by rage, and pull some bullfighting stunt? Not likely." His voice expressing his frustration, the words of Chauncy seemed to belie his aggravation at Miss Anette's antics. So far, she had outmanoeuvred him, but it seems he was on to her game now; going against the script, as it were. Hefting a plank of finely grained wood in one arm, the bearded behemoth took aim before hurling it like a javelin.
"Aaah!" Ducking to her left, the cherry blossom haired girl narrowly avoided the flying piece of wood; the lumber striking the stack behind her and toppling it, scattering timber across the cold floor. Hands still clutching the control bars, she was now somewhere between squatting and kneeling, eyes drawn away Sycamore.

"Don't think I don't know how to mess up puppets, girl!" By the time Mari's eyes returned to the insectoid idol, the massive fist of Captain Damoc was a mere inch away from the poor puppet. The sound of wood straining reverberated in her ears as the former pirate's hand slammed into the slackened mannequin, sending Sycamore flying up into the air with great force. All the woodcarver could do was watch as her companion was tossed aside, body rolling and twisting through the air. The shining strings of steel pulled on the control bars as they wound around marionette like cotton around a bobbin.
Sycamore... Eyes widening, the puppeteer in pink watched helplessly as her sickle-clawed comrade collapsed into the heap of stray lumber. Scrambling forwards on all fours, like a baby crawling towards a plush toy, the craftswoman rushed to the aid of the mantis marionette, shedding a few painful tears as she observed his body. Several fractures had formed in his lithe frame, grain split by the force of the punch. An arm was loose, the ligaments of musical wire within his body snapped from the strain.

"Didn't I warn you? A cheap knock off copy could never hope to match the puppet that ended my life as a pirate!" Issuing his last utterances to the now tearful teen as she clutched the broken puppet in her arms, Damoc stood up tall before turning back to Doctor Toctic, slowly stepping towards him. His rage seeming to have subsided, the former pirate captain brushed wood dust off his arms as his deep green eyes locked onto the cyborg scientist.
"I admit it, Toctic. I apologise for associating you with those noble snobs who you are forced to call family. Just because you share the name, doesn't mean you share their skills." The bearded boss now looking far more relaxed, as if a massive burden had been lifted, spoke just as calmly. As one of his followers tried to speak, he merely held up an open palm, the lackey becoming silent in response. He stood, just out of reach of the devil-horned doctor's extendible arms, and quietly awaited a response, if any.

Sycamore. I'm sorry, Sycamore. I should have seen that coming, but, I wasn't quick enough... Rosé eyes stared into the scarlet hemispheres of the insect doll, delicate fingers removing the ends of each steel string from their locks so that she could untangle him. In all honestly, her lacrimations were perhaps not a necessity; merely a reaction, and a good one at that. Empathic towards the welfare of her marionettes, Miss Anette herself felt anxiety and almost physical pain whenever they were in danger, much like a mother responding to the plights of her children.
Thank you, though. You've done what I asked of you, and that's all you needed to do. The silvery strings now free of their original 'host', Mari began her secretive work. Unbeknownst to the boss, their duel had put her in the most ideal of positions. She had obtained what she had come here for in the first place, and now she was refastening the strings to the dark redwood doll.

Alright. When Officer Toctic and I came here, it was to retrieve you. Now, I'm pretty sure that you want compensation for what happened, right? Now in possession of Mahogani once more, a need for vengeance was burning within her soul. Those amber eyes watched carefully as each string was clipped into place upon the body of the swordswoman, the light chi-clack sounds of the clips fastening was certainly a lot more subtle that they fastenings of Sycamore.
"Boss! That's where we hid it!" Shouting at the top of his voice, one of the former pirate captain's lackeys interrupted the present discussion. Damoc's face visibly paled as realisation swept through him, his enormous bulk turning away from Flynn and back towards the pink haired puppeteer. From the ashes, phoenixes are said to be reborn. But for Mari Anette, that analogy was perfect. Now standing, Sycamore strapped to her backpack which rested on the floor beside her, the usually timid teen's frail face seemed to express an unnerving desire for retribution. Before her now stood the dark wooden frame of Mahogani, the puppet's stance displaying the readiness of any samurai. One dainty wooden hand clutched the hilt of her sheathed sword, while fiery ambers glared across towards Damoc himself.

"That's good, Mahogani. We won't let anyone disgrace the Anette family name!"

[Deleted]

  
  The doctor, as well as the crowd of onlookers, winced involuntarily as the cracking of Sycamore's frame echoed through the room. The mantis-like puppet seemed all too autonomous, and despite the support shown earlier, several of the men looked rather concerned. Their boss was going somewhat overboard, here, and it was starting to scare them, this much was plain. The doctor was sure that none of the men here were old enough to have been with Damoc on his journey. These men probably hadn't been alive when Roger made his famous declaration. Hell, Flynn himself had only been a very small child. Still... there was a record of the speech made that day. Even in paper form, it had sent hundreds to the Seas from Ilusia alone. The pirate before him had been one of these men. Yet, even if he had never encountered Commodore Annette, something told the cyborg that this man would never have accomplished his dream.

 There was something inside missing, almost. A clock, with a special gear that had not been put in place. Watching the two, Mari seemed to burn brighter, her every action fueled by a determination that almost frightened those around her with it's intensity. So... this is what someone with something to fight for can achieve. Looking to the side, his mind began to perform some quick mental arithmetic. The local thieves den... perhaps not the largest, but this was certainly an operation of considerable magnitude. After the brawl the night before, perhaps this would push it over the edge. Besides, the noise that was going on down here would no doubt draw some attention. They didn't look like the types to give part of their haul to the locals. 

 Chauncy appeared quite satisfied with himself, after managing to land a hit on Sycamore. Turning back, he spoke once again. "I admit it, Toctic. I apologise for associating you with those noble snobs who you are forced to call family. Just because you share the name, doesn't mean you share their skills." He seemed calm, and somewhat... relieved? Was he PROUD of himself? This overblown former pirate was pleased. It was almost like he was afraid of the puppet.

"Chensososososososososo. CHENSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO. CHENSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO!" The laughter rang through the room, as Flynn, clutching stomach, cackled hysterically. Unnerved, Swiper backed away, followed quickly by the equally discomforted men. Wiping his eye, the Doctor rose, and stared at Damoc. "I don't share their skills? You don't say. I mean, I was really concerned about my ability to trade effectively, what with all the other unimportant things I've done. But that's not the funniest bit, oh no!" Wagging his finger, the pale longarm had to supress another giggling fit. "Oh god, the PRIDE you're showing at this. You defeated the grandaughter of the "Man who ruined your dream"? You. Are. PATHETIC!"


The cutting scorn in his words made even the massive Boss flinch, vague annoyance flickering at Flynn's unexpected reaction. "Prattle as you wi-" The doctor, unconcerned, began speaking again, and though quieter, his words cut through any speech that was impending. "Your dream wasn't ruined by Commodore Annette. It was ruined because in the end, you were weak. You probably ruled in here in West Blue, got a bit of a name for yourself. Ever hear of Don Krieg? Used to be called the Pirate Admiral. Had an army of ships, was considered the most dangerous man in East Blue. You know what happened?" Stalking closer, Flynn stared up into Damoc's eyes, the fire in the longarm's own smoldering.

 "He tried to enter the Grand Line, and Hawk Eyes Mihawk laid waste to him for interrupting his nap. This world is FULL of monsters, Chauncy Damoc. You had a chance to be one of them. You could have accomplished your dream, but you let a single glance at what real power was frighten you off, like a mouse fleeing from a predator. The stark reminder of where you really stood broke you, and you've spent all this time brooding over it. That's pathetic. But you know what really makes this all the more amusing?" Smirking, the doctor placed his hand on his face.

"You still haven't learned. You're about to be defeated by a girl who by my estimation, has never known serious combat. Because instead of chasing your dream, you've spent decades growing slothful and weak, squabbling over meaningless trinkets here in this hole, while the world moved on. So I will ask you now, Damoc. I really want to know. Do you feel afraid?" As the final words were spoken, Flynn removed his hand from his face. For a moment, just an instant, it seemed like a demon stood before them. He had not yelled, he had not postured. He had spoken calmly. He had laughed, and the thieves knew that the pair who had walked in to their den were beyond them.

One in particular, however, was not ready to fully give up. Summoning up his courage, knowing that the monstrous cyborg was with striking distance, he yelled out a warning. The older man, about to reply, froze. His men were looking panicked, and a noise behind him, a very familiar noise, was causing the former "Wood Hammer" Damoc to break out in a cold sweat. As Flynn, a line of blood running down the side of his mouth, resumed laughing, the pirate turned. There before him was Mari, ready to fight for her dreams.

Something broke, and the Pirate grabbed another two by four, bellowing in fear like a wounded animal. The hairy man swung it wildly, attempting to hit the creature that he had pinned his own weakness on for so many years. But the Marine's words, his cutting, biting words, had unsettled him. Any skill he may have retained was replaced with sheer brutality, a wild board being swung in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable. As the final portion of the battle commenced, and a arrogant man fought to avenged his perceived wrong, a final sentence was spoken. Flynn, grinning like the devil himself, shouted to his foe's back: "She's fighting for something other then herself, and right now, that makes her the most dangerous person in this room."

[Vio]

Preparing herself for what was hopefully the last stand against Chauncy Damoc, the puppeteer pulled at the strings as she adjusted the control bars. As the motions of fine steel cords captured the dim lighting of the environment, the regal redwood's arms moved in accordance. Out of its lavender sheath came the dark wooden blade, its smooth exterior as highly polished as the steel any katana; the redness of the wooden weapon defined by the dark hamon. Of all of Gepetto's works, perhaps this blade was the finest he had ever crafted; designed in every aspect to match the weapons forged by the most amazing of swordsmiths.

The blade is back in the hands of its rightful owner. A blade that, for all its sharpness, cannot cut. But, could Grandfather really cut a ship in half with a wooden sword? Guiding Mahogani into position, the teenager stepped forwards, perhaps a little more cautiously. The feet of the mannequin stepped with her, forging a distance of approximately two yards between the controlled and the controller. The former pirate captain, now letting out a wild roar, hefted yet another piece of wood in his arms, stepping forwards to meet the lady samurai in combat. It was a very David and Goliath moment, for sure, as the child sized doll stood her ground against the barrelling behemoth.
"She's fighting for something other then herself, and right now, that makes her the most dangerous person in this room." As the words of Flynn Toctic were directed towards the back of Damoc, Miss Anette herself could not help but think more modestly. It was not the puppeteer in pink that was fighting for a cause, but the puppets she manipulated. With silver strings, she gave life to their otherwise inanimate bodies, a payment to them in return for the companionship they offered. Though, the devil-horned doctor perhaps did not understand the meaning that these marionettes had.

Focus. We'll learn soon enough, but first; the show must go on! As the now bestial form of the aged pirate bore down upon them, a subtle adjustment of the strings placed Mahogani into a defensive position. Democ's wild green eyes now locked with both the amber hues of the puppet and the rosé shades of the puppeteer; with all his monstrous strength he swung the two-by-four, a vicious attempt to break the exquisite entity that stood so proudly in his path. Slivers of silver flashed softly. The ear-splitting sound of splintering wood soon followed.
"Gah! How the hell!?" The sound of wood bouncing off the hard floor echoed in the room shortly afterwards. In his hands, the boss now held onto but two thirds of the plank he had initially swung, the other piece tumbled across the room before coming to a halt near the feet of one of his lackeys. Shifted by maybe a foot or two, the redwood marionette remained standing. Knees bent and body forward, the dark wooden blade now pointed in a different direction. The craftswoman herself now stood with control bars parted and angled differently from just a moment ago. The swordswoman mannequin had parried the blow. Damoc's sheer strength, the resisting forces of high tension steel wires, the keen edge of Mahogani's wooden blade, and the differing properties of the two wood types. All these factors had allowed the apparently outmatched puppeteer to defend her most prized possession from a horrid fate.

"Spruce is a softwood, easily beaten by a hardwood. I'm a carpenter, so, I should know that. As should you... Crescendo." Rapidly readjusting the control bars, the cherry blossom-haired teenager guided Mahogani into a second attack. Damoc, still leaning from his attack, suddenly felt the sharp sting of the wooden blade against his cheek as the redwood doll leapt upwards. Resisting the pain, left with a thin red mark visible even through the mass of grey, the boss attempted to grab the now airborne marionette with his meaty hands.
"Diminuendo." Uttering one last word, the carpenter made the strings 'dance' once more. The wooden blade flipped and then, with an audible thwack, was brought upon his head. As Mahogani landed elegantly upon the floor, her opponent dropped to his knees with her. Mari, giving a few repetitive tugs on the strings, guided her companion back towards her as Damoc curled up. Now clutching his head, wrestling against his wildly swimming senses, the beefy brute had been bested. Once again, his pride had been cleaved by a sword that could not cut.

And now our show comes to an end. Good work, Mahogani! The marionette sheathing its blade with the grace and discipline of any samurai, Miss Anette herself gently walked the puppet backwards, allowing Mahogani to come to rest before her feet. Now squatting down, the fiery determination that had manifested within the fair-faced femme seemed to fade away, replaced by a timid smile. No longer did she need to embody the personality of the wooden warrior, for she was not on stage. The quiet clicks of the the steel strings were overwritten by footsteps as Damoc's lackeys amassed themselves around him.
Mahogani, you're now safe. Sycamore, I need to repair you. Alder, I still need to construct you... Flynn could do with repairs as well. I hope he's okay. Coiling the steel cords back around the arms of the control bars, the rosé eyes of the timorous teen looked up towards the marine. He and the former pirate had spoken, or at least the doctor had, but aside from quirky laughter she had not paid attention to the conversation. Priorities were her puppets, not people, though they were people in their own right. Family. Nakama.

[Deleted]

As the pair barreled towards each other, it was clear how the clash would end. Glancing back over his shoulder, Flynn grinned at the now-terrified group of subordinates. "Well, looks like your captain's not going to be coming out of this so well. So you're aware, I will be taking him in. From what I've heard so far, he's avoided justice for a very long time."  There was a chorus of gasps, as Damoc's plank was shattered. One of the two thieves, possibly Swiper's Bruv, for honestly, the doctor had lost track at this point, spoke up. Spitting on the ground, he glanced back at man the longarm had smacked into a wall. Then, with a glower, he replied. "Justice? You come into our home after that puppet, harass our boss, and you call that justice? 's why I hate you Marines. Prancing around like gods, handing down death sentences at the drop of a hat."

Folding his extremely unusual arms, the Marine in question responded in kind. The glower was met with a deadpan look of total scorn, and the rather ill-thought out stab with a question. "Do you know how the Marine Rank System works?" Without letting the group respond, the explanation barreled on. Behind them, Mari was driving the finishing blows into the former pirate. Even after years of being totally out of practice, he had been a reasonably dangerous opponent. "For a Commodore to be required to stop him, likely one from the Grand Line, no less, your captain was a very dangerous man. I recall hearing, when I was young, of Captain "Wood Hammer" Damoc. He wasn't a monster, like I said, but he was a danger."

Leaning in close, Flynn growled into the man's face, his next words hissing out like gas. "Contrary to what your deluded notions of romance may say, Most pirates are not nice. They don't get unfairly accused by the World Government. They might not be as bad here in the Blues, but even here, they rob. They steal. They murder people who cannot fight back. I have no qualms with dealing in death, Friend. However, from me, it comes to people who deserve it. Believe me, there are MANY who deserve it. Not just the streetrats, like you. Nobles, like my family. Pirates, Bounty Hunters, and yes, even the Marines in some cases. This whole world is rotten and flawed, and as a doctor, my job is to remove the tumors and cancers from it. " 

Turning, he stalked over to the fallen pirate. The massive man was whimpering, teeth grit in rage, as he tried to come to his senses. Feeling along the neck, the doctor stopped, then pressed against one of the pronounced veins. Moving another finger elsewhere, and maintaining a steady pressure, he waited. After a minute or so, the struggles ceased, as Damoc's body went limp. Standing, Flynn gave him a nudge, then turned to Mari."Do you want to be the one to deliver him to the authorities, or should I? It was more or less your doing, in the end. I just helped for the first bit." Gunning for promotion he might have been, but stealing credit irked him to no end. That bastard Worthington had been ceaseless in his attempts to do so at the old lab. Shame he ended up getting transferred to Ice Nine. Less of a shame that the Transfer Head's office had such a terribly easy to pick lock.

Giving Damoc an experimental shift, The longarm glanced over his shoulder. "What are you lot still doing here? Do I need to throw you out myself?" There was a sursurration of whispers, then, as one, the group began to file out. The unconscious carpenter was lifted up, and carried away. Swiper was the last to leave. With a pained stare at his boss, he grit his teeth, seeming to consider his options. The man was far too large to carry alone, however, and the thief had seen how fast Flynn was. With a sigh, and a final glare of rage, he too left. Shrugging, the cyborg sighed."Probably going to see that lot again eventally. The Carpenter Pirates or something, inspired by the great Captain Chauncy Damoc. "Lord, what fools these mortals be." Stealing and mugging, working for a former killer, and they think themselves the righteous. Now, to see if there's a cart around here somewhere."

[Vio]

With the fight now over, control bars pocketed, Mari Anette hauled her backpack onto her shoulders once more. With the 'injured' Sycamore currently strapped onto the natural seat that it offered, the cherry blossom-haired girl had no choice but to squat down and pick up Mahogani. The swordswoman now held in her arms, she stepped closer to the doctor as he lectured the carpenters. One thing that she had noticed about the place was the quantity of high quality lumber; pines and redwoods and more scattered here and there in various states of treatment.

"Do you want to be the one to deliver him to the authorities, or should I? It was more or less your doing, in the end. I just helped for the first bit." Watching with rosé eyes as the devil-horned doctor immobilised the former captain, Miss Anette considered his suggestion. If there was any bounty on the head of Damoc, then she could earn it, but at the same time money was not a particular concern of hers. On occasion, she would help make or repair something and be paid for doing so, a benefit of her carpentry talents, but in terms of making a profit? No, she only made money when she needed it, just enough to get by comfortably.
"Ummm. You can turn him in. Y-you helped me get this far, and I've got what I wanted." Returning now to her original shy self, the puppeteer in pink held up Mahogani a little higher to demonstrate her point. The unblinking amber gaze of the mannequin met the eyes of the lanky longarm for a moment, diverting back towards the now unconscious form of Chauncy as she settled back down. If there was anything at all that she needed, it was time to repair Sycamore, already possessing the required materials to do so. However, she also needed to build Alder, the one member of her current triumvirate that she had yet to construct.

"What are you lot still doing here? Do I need to throw you out myself?" With his biting words, the remaining lackeys of Captain Damoc began to filter out of the room. The woodcarver herself felt the eyes of Swiper scan the three of them over before leaving, a sign that perhaps he would be seeking revenge at a later date. Indeed, Flynn made the same assumption, though by his words it seemed he was joking about it. The silver-haired cyborg had done so much, even in an injured state, and she owed him for that.
"Th-there is one more thing I'd like from here. Eyes shifting from the marine, the mousy maiden looked about the room, searching for something she had spied earlier. Sure enough, her eyes now settled upon what she had been searching for. Stepping across, she examined the pile of hefty timbers that lay in a neat stack almost as tall as she was. The grain and colour matched, and the pieces had not yet been carved or treated; pure and, by the looks of it, quite freshly cut pieces of Alder wood. Perfect...