Bounty Hunter Battle Royal! Trouble Brewing in North Blue!

[Jade]

Hotshot Rookie Challenges Blues' Bounty Hunters!

Rookie pirate captain "Superstar" Preston, worth 20,000,000, has issued a formal challenge to all bounty hunters who feel up to the task of hunting him down on Amino Island this upcoming week! Local law enforcement report that they are tightening up security on the island's two major cities and that the assistance of bounty hunters will not be necessary to capture this rookie...

---

The day had finally arrived, and yet nothing seemed out of the ordinary in Serine City - if, of course, you had never been there before. The sun shone bright in the sky, still rising, with only the faintest wisps of clouds brave enough to try to block the intense rays, with a few birds singing to break the silence. The streets were almost completely devoid of life, though the white-haired young lady thought she spied a few less than savory individuals trying their best to doze in the narrow gaps between the bars and casinos that had been so busy just a few hours before. A relatively normal morning for a town that was so in love with its night life. And yet...

Bianca held the edges of the newspaper down against the solid metal of the table she had set herself up at before taking another gentle sip of the warm tea. The petite cyborg had set up shop on the island nearly a week before and had quickly come to the conclusion that she hated this island with every fiber of her being. There was never a moment of silence that she could use to compose herself, after all, and that was exactly what was wrong with this particular morning - aside from the bird song, it was dead silent.

"Hey, uh, not to be 'that guy', but don't you think we should... You know... Get the hell out of here before things kick off?"

Well, aside from that. The tea-lover sighed, folding the week-old newspaper until it was, once again, a neat square, making it a point not to actually look at the man seated directly across from her. The man's once-blue hair had been dyed a lovely chocolatey brown, and his loose-fitting clothes replaced with a well-fitted suit, but the Mr. Hot Chocolate disguise did little to replace "Peeping" Tom's cowardly approach to most situations. He looked genuinely afraid, his eyes constantly darting back and forth, searching for signs of motion that simply weren't there, and then sometimes back into the dark windows of the bar the two had seated themselves in front of, as if some danger would leap out from the vacant building.

”Mr. Hot Chocolate-”

”That name is so stupid!”

The young lady frowned at that. ”Excuse you, you sugar-suckling ingrate. I spent a good deal of time coming up with this persona - which, might I remind you, you need because of a mess you got yourself into. So I would be a little bit more grateful, if I were you.” She sipped her tea at the end of that, leaving Thomas to grumble something that sounded suspiciously like bitter, empty threats. ”Now then, allow me to remind you that it was your disguise that went through my savings so quickly. We need money, and as a bounty hunter, it only makes sense that I would go after this man.”

Thomas stuck his tongue out, closing his eyes and pulling on his ears. ”Nyeeeeeeh! But you suck at this! You couldn’t even hunt me! What the heck are you planning on doing to this guy?!”

Bianca stood up in response to that, tucking the neatly folded newspaper under her arm, against the dark blue material of her simple dress, before leaning over and unleashing a small burst of super-hot steam from the vent in her right palm in Tom’s face. ”Ow! Goddammit, that f*%#ing hurts-!”

---

While the area of the city that Bianca and Thomas was quiet, not all places could claim the same. One casino in particular was still in full-on party mode - lights and sounds tangling with the bubbling of conversations dulled by the steady flow of alcohol and gaudy outfits of many of the people. And, at the center of it all, the rookie pirate captain, hailing from this very island, “Superstar” Preston, was soaking it all in.

”Oh, come on, Bouncer! Lighten up a bit, why don’tchya! We both know I’ve got what it takes to be a bigshot in this world- hell, I don’t think it’d be unreasonable to say its pretty much guaranteed that I’m gonna be the next Pirate King!” The blond-haired man laughed at his own declaration, prompting the pretty young woman practically draped over him to laugh a little as well, nodding and agreeing with the young man.

In stark contrast to the rookie pirate captain, with his light hair, rather gaudy clothes, and easy smile, the man called “Bouncer” was dark-haired and darkly-dressed, with an almost perpetual scowl gouged into his face. The massively muscled man stood close by his captain, heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest, as he glared out from behind sunglasses at the party happening around the pair. ”Come on, man! Your first bounty was just announced! This party is every bit about you as it is me!”

The bald bouncer actually growled at that, prompting everyone nearby, aside from Preston himself, to take a few steps back. ”Not to rain on your parade, cap’n, but this whole idea is ridiculous. I understand wanting to leave with a bang, but we need to get you out of here now.”

Preston threw his head back, laughing, and the brief moment of awkward silence around the two broke. ”We’ve been over the plan a thousand times, haven’t we? All we gotta do is sneak out of town while all those dumbass bounty hunters’ are scouring the town for us, and then we’ll be home free - Grand Line, here we come! And, better yet, my bounty will skyrocket! It’s the perfect plan!”

When he went to laugh again, Preston found himself instead being launched across the casino, landing on the top of a table where some people had been almost peacefully playing some mysterious card game a second before. The girl who had been draped across him a moment before was giggling, placing a finger just below her mouth and posing cutely - which almost would have worked, had an almost comically large war hammer not been casually resting on her other shoulder. ”Oopsie! My baaaaaaad~!” the red-haired girl giggled, and then did a backflip to dodge the punch thrown her way by Bouncer. ”I just couldn’t keep it up any loooooonger~! All that stuuuuuupid talk about how smart your plan was, heehee! Well, I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, but you’re in biiiiiiiiiiig trouble!”

[Vio]

There was much to be said about the ways of bounty hunting, the nuances that one had to be attentive of, and the risks that came with adopting such an occupation. Yes, it could be seen as a noble profession to take up, but that did not always mean that those who did assume the role had noble intentions. Many, as Bai Meifeng had begun to find out, were nothing more than money-hungry scoundrels who revelled at the opportunity to shed blood and get paid for it without having to abide by the same strict regimes of law enforcement organisations. That said, one of her own reasons for taking up her sword and becoming a pursuer of the wanted was simply a matter of preference, the concept of living life as a diplomat’s daughter having seemed a boring way to develop, and the idea of joining the Marines being something that posed other problems which she was not quite aware of.

However, despite now acting as a lone deliverer of justice, she had yet to be the bearer of such packages to anyone but a few petty thieves. That was not to say she had not tried to apprehend a criminal with a price upon his head, but more that she had not been so lucky. Her first (and only) attempt had failed miserably when the trail had run cold, only to discover that the very man whom she had been hunting had ended up botching his own operations and wound up arrested by the local authorities of the Frost Kingdom. That incident had provoked her to move elsewhere, bringing the refined woman to one of the busiest places in the North Blue – Amino Island’s very own Serine City.

I suppose I must weigh my options carefully… Early to rise as always, Meifeng of the Bai Household was currently enjoying a rather lavish breakfast the likes of which only the most reputable of citizens could hope to afford. Born of noble blood, it was no surprise that – despite distancing herself from her father’s strict rule – this woman had plenty of wealth to wield as she saw fit. This, in turn, was backed by her tendency to stick to the necessities when out and about. That being said, most people would probably not consider such an extravagant morning meal at one of the more expensive restaurants in Serine a necessity, but this was not ‘most people’. Simple yet flavourful delicacies of home graced the dishes from which she picked them, gracefully partaking of a warmed rice porridge and small bread buns filled with honey-glazed diced pork. A sweet meal packed with proteins and sugars to start the day, and a rousing cup of filtered honey and lemon tea to top it all off, there was no denying the benefits of such morsels.

The last thing I want to do is confront someone far above my current capabilities, but then that raises the question; does the value placed upon a man’s head reflect their level of strength and skill? Or does it merely reflect the extent of the crimes they have committed? … It would be so much easier to answer my own questions had I obtained any experience in my last venture… The intricacies of her desired profession still alien to her, reflecting just how green she was in regards to the difficult and often brutal ways of bounty hunting, Lady Bai could only consider to what extent she needed to exert herself. Obviously, logic would dictate that the chances of each and every bounty head having an identical modus operandi were slim to none, meaning that care and preparation were the keys to success. All those criminology novels she had enjoyed back home, not to mention the education to which she had been entitled, had served her well in that regard. But in theory and in practise were two completely different things, the latter of which she had yet to properly experience.

Oh? What is this…? Taking a silent sip of her warming beverage as delicate digits rolled across the fine leaf of the local newspaper, eyes of rich sapphire widened with intent as the ‘Beautiful Wind’ set her sights upon the spread’s most prominent article. She had an unusual habit of reading media sources in reverse, working her way to the front page and allowing her the opportunity to skim through the sections that did not interest her. Now, while doing just that, the pages of this particular presentation revealed an article about local security and its need to increase exponentially. Skipping over the exaggerated and insignificant details, eyes well used to reading such spiel from the pages and documents of her house’s library, she was quite quick to discern the reasons of this article.

Ah, that explains the fire damage some nearby establishments had suffered… Supposedly, just a month or two ago, a group of pirates known as the Dieu-le-Veut crew had decided it was a good idea to leave the North Blue with a bang. Property damage, attempting robberies of jewellers and casinos, even the murder of innocents had all taken place within a relatively small expanse of Serine’s inner streets. However, for reasons undocumented, the city’s police forces had been incapable of tackling the enemy effectively. The section then went on to talk about a young man in black and a woman wielding a scythe supposedly defeating all seven members of this allegedly small but powerful crew. Meifeng, puffing her cheeks slightly at the apparent act of bounty hunting that had gone on here not too long ago, quickly skimmed over any further details. But there was more to it, so said the article, referring its regal reader to the forward pages. Obliged to delve deeper for the sake of personal interest, she did just that, flipping most of the paper over in one go after finishing off the last pork bun.

‘Hotshot Rookie Challenges Blues’ Bounty Hunters’? … Worth twenty million beri? Isn’t such a value rather high on the spectrum of the Blues? Though, I imagine that could be attributed to the recent crackdowns instigated by the Marines. A larger bounty is more enticing to the less… reputable members of my profession and the more difficult things become for rookie pirates, the easier it becomes for the World Government to focus on the larger threats… Assessments of recent changes aside, the serene swordswoman had already made up her mind. Surely as the wind would blow, Bai Meifeng was already mentally preparing herself for the task at hand, quite certain that – by the information provided by the previous article – this ‘Superstar’ Preston could end up being more difficult for local security forces to handle. How large was this man’s crew? If a crew of seven had managed to beat the island’s own policing, how much threat would a larger criminal force prove to be? Driven swiftly from the restaurant by a sense of pride and necessity, clad in her royal red cheongsam and white cotton trousers and with Yáng Cái sheathed at her waist, this was most definitely going to be her first successful hunt, regardless of any competition she may encounter along the way…

SPOILER: Click to show

Gonna have to use a different colour for Meifeng because of her and Bianca sharing white. So, I went for this bright red (e61919) instead.

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

SPOILER: Click to show

Theme for the post:

It had been a rather good day so far.

The morning had greeted him cheerfully, and Jude felt it would have been rude to return the gesture with any less enthusiasm than had been offered him. It had been some time since he had stayed in a city. A proper city, that is, vibrant and cultured. As opposed to the stuffier small town islands, whose version of a nightlife consisted of a couple of stuffy nearly-identical bars across the street from one another. A week of performances at the grand plaza nearby had left him a respectable sum, which he’d been floating on ever since. Despite the noblest of intentions, he’d found those funds had burnt their way through his pockets a smidge faster than he wanted them to. The logical thing to do at this point would have been to try and reduce his expenditures as much as possible and try and seek new financial opportunities. However, he found the miserly course of action to be rather dull. Especially given the extravagance of his surroundings. So instead he had opted to try his luck at one of the casinos. And by some small miracle, he actually walked out the door with slightly more money in hand than he had entered with. Well, perhaps ‘miracle’ was too strong of a term to use. In his opinion luck was, after all, a skill like any other. The point remained though that his skill had netted him some extra income, and to celebrate the good fortune, he was going to immediately spend it. Exactly how to spend it on and where, he had yet to decide. But such minor details were not terribly important to him.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you ready to order?” Chimed a bright young voice from beside him, and he was suddenly aware that there was a hand waving (as politely as possible) in the corner of his vision. It took several seconds for his mind to connect these actions in any meaningful way before he remembered where he was and what it was he had been doing there. He was seated inside a small café just a street away from the main thoroughfare called ’The Montmarte’, at a booth next to the window. Reclined comfortably with his feet were propped up on the seat opposite him, he had split open the menu with the full intent of making a selection, but that had never come to pass. Which brought him back to the situation at hand.

Rather than be flustered, the musical dilettante chortled and showed her a warm smile. “Oh, yes. Certainly. Just give me a moment to remember.” A lie, yes, but the small harmless sort that made the world go round. Such things were almost always kinder than the truth, and he’d always thought himself a kindly soul. Scanning the menu with the sort of speed only achievable when one knows someone else is waiting for them, he ended up just picking the first dish that stood out to him. “Yes, I’ll have the smoked salmon crepe with the cottage cheese and maple mustard vinaigrette. Ooo, and some sour cream on the side.” For reasons unknown he found himself compelled to point at the item on the list as he read it out, which was strange given that the waitress wasn’t actually looking over his shoulder. Ah well. He did very much love sour cream.

Jotting his words down on a small notepad, she rattled off the pertinent follow-up questions like a seasoned professional. “Okay. Sausage or hash browns?”

“Both, please.” There was more pen scratching.

“And to drink?”

That actually took some consideration. He glanced down at the collection of condiments and additives at the far end of the table before deciding. “Unsweet tea.”

“Alright, we’ll have that right out.” Finishing his order with a flourish, the young lady reached down to gather up his menu, which he held out for her obligingly. Then with a cute little twirl she started back toward the kitchen.

With that matter settled he was free to resume his own thoughts. For the moment, his previous subject matter escaped him, so instead he shifted his gaze to the window. The angle that the sun struck it produced a troublesome glare that made people watching, coincidentally one of his favorite hobbies, a bit difficult at this time of day. So instead he focused on his own reflection in the glass. What stared back at him was a lean man, who seemed to be lacking in both fat and muscle alike. Tall, but not unusually so, with the sort of long body that gave the vague impression he might have been stretched out on a rack. He had big shining eyes and small upturned nose, and the sort of mouth that always seemed just a breath away from a grin, if he was not doing so already. His hair was straight and cut fairly long for a man, though it did nothing to hide his strangely pointed ears, and existed somewhere in the range of either a very light shade of black or a very dark shade of brown. The only exception to this followed the path of the smooth scar that was carved across his forehead, which though faded was still very much visible even from distance. On either side of the mark were two long tufts that sat on his temples, which were instead stained white. They were not the sort of thinning wispy cotton that you found on the heads of elderly men and women, but was instead quite thick as if it had just been bleached, and were lifted up off of his forehead like little pearly wings.

Below that, Jude was dressed quite nicely. He had on a white oxford with a stiff collar and a plain blue bowtie. It was tucked into a pair of brown slacks, held in place with a thick leather belt and suspenders that hung his shoulders. Of course, he also had a pair of leather dress shoes and jacket which matched impeccably, but he could not see his feet at the moment and his jacket was hanging on the rack by the door. Combined with the thin-rimmed glasses, he looked much the picture of a professor of some sort, or possibly an author. Though, that image stood at odds with his general youth, a man only in his early twenties. That, and how far back he was sitting in his seat. If he was not careful he might wrinkle his shirt.

By the time he finished preening himself in the glass, the waitress had already returned, balancing his two plates and a tall glass. He sat up properly after realizing he could not really eat while so reclined, and she set them out in front of him. “Here you are! And is there anything else you need?” She asked cheerily.

A cursory glance across the table showed no immediate issues, though his stomach growled approvingly at the aroma rising off his meal. Well, there was one thing. Looking up at her, he motioned toward the small stack by the window. “Hm. How about some more of those little sugar packets?”

“Yeah, sure.” The woman dipped away to to grab a handful of those colored sweeteners from wherever they were kept and returned a short while later. In that time, Jude had torn into the packets, dumping their contents into his glass one after another. At first she moved to add what she brought into the pile he had made, but hesitated halfway. “Y’know, you don't have to do that. We have just sweet tea.”

“Yes, I saw.” Was his merry reply, continuing to dump sugar in undaunted.

She wasn’t sure exactly what to do. After a few heartbeats of silence, she continued. “So, do you want?...”

“No, no. This is fine. I think it tastes better this way.” He took a spoon and mixed the murky mixture. When he realized she was standing there, he turned and gave her another polite smile. “Thank you miss. This looks perfect.”

The waitress attempted to return it the expression, but still looked vaguely confused. “Uhh. No problem.”

Taking a cautious sip of his concoction, Jude found it to just sweet enough to give an ant diabetes. Exactly how he liked it. He took a much larger gulp, and gave a satisfied sigh. Yes, today was going to be a good day. He could feel it.

SPOILER: Click to show

I love writing about food in general

Also, Jude's outfit.

[Jade]

"What a jerk... Trying to burn half my face off..."

"I can hear you, you know."

Thomas didn't bother turning to face the young lady. "Yes, that's the point, actually!" He sighed and tightened his grip on his sword's hilt, resting the weapon on his shoulder as the pair walked down the seemingly abandoned street. Some businesses were open, ignoring the promise of chaos from the rookie pirate, but everything was still so... Subdued, especially for a town that prided itself on entertainment. Bianca all but floated down the walkway, eyes focused solely on her tea, and yet she seemed to step over or around anything that should have otherwise tripped her.

She even stopped in plenty of time, leaving Thomas to his fate, as a building in front of them seemed to explode out into the street, a handful of well-dressed men wielding all manner of weapons scattering into the pavement. A much larger man, standing nearly twice Bianca's height, barreled out in the street behind them, holding his twin tower shields close to his body. A few unfortunate goons had gotten caught on the shield held in front, but they were quickly launched off as the huge man came to a stop. "Ruuuuuuuuuuuahahahahahahaha! See, this is why you don't mess with the Shields, let alone one of their captains!" The huge man stuck one hand on his hip as he used the other to twist the end of his impressive handlebar mustache, sticking his chest out and standing triumphantly over the groaning men. "You know what they call me here in the force? 'Twin Peaks' Rushmore! Ruuuuuuahahaha! And you know why they call me that?"

Bianca stood back, eyes fixed on the loud man, while Tom was busy picking himself up after being knocked down by flying rubble. "Is it because that's your favorite place to eat?" The young man quipped, dusting off his tailored suit and picking his sheathed sword up off the ground. The cyborg beside him had a look of confusion pass over her face, but she soon regained her composure, sipping at her cup.

The man who had so loudly announced his name looked over at the two, seeing them for the first time. "What- No! Why does everyone say that...?" His mustache drooped for a moment as the black-haired man fidgeted with the shield on his left arm, but he soon perked up again. "They call me that because of these two shields! The two 'mountains', as they say - these unshakeable, unbreakable shields! Ruuuuuahahahaha! So you run back to your silly little captain and tell him that a captain of the Shields isn't afraid of his little stunt! Ruuuuuahahahahahaha!" The men on the ground simply stared up at the huge man for a moment before getting up, running down the street, and finally turning a corner and disappearing from sight.

Rushmore looked exceedingly proud of himself, with a huge grin plastered on his face. "Another job well done!" he exclaimed, brushing off a little bit of dirt from his incredibly broad shoulders.

"... Weren't those people... Criminals?"

The huge man's expression turned to one of shocked disbelief, mouth hanging open. "Ah...! You're right... I have... In fact... Failed..." Where once the man had been standing with his hands on his hips in victory, he now supported himself on his hands and knees, forehead pressed into the street. Before Bianca or Thomas could say anything, however, Rushmore was back on his feet, jogging in place, bringing his knees up high as if he were marching. "But no matter! This is merely a minor setback for Rushmore, a captain of Serine City's elite Shields! RUUUUUUUUUUUUU-HA!" And, without wasting another moment, the man was off, charging like a bull after the men he had just allowed to run off.

Thomas crossed his arms, hugging his sword to his chest, and tilted his head to the side as the huge man disappeared from view. "What the hell-"

"What a strange man."

"Oi! Don't interrupt me like that, Bianca!"

"What a strange man indeed..."

Thomas glanced over to find that Bianca had sat down with an older gentleman, dressed in loose-fitting attire pale green attire that seemed to mark him as a samurai who had a neatly trimmed white beard, and the two of them had both set up with a cup of tea.

"... Where did you even find him?!"

[Vio]

Leaving the quaint restaurant at which she had enjoyed quite the nice traditional breakfast behind, Bai Meifeng stepped out into the sunlight and took a breath of the air. A gentle breeze pushed at her ivory locks and swept across her face, eyes of deep sapphire making a quick analysis of the street around her. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at first glance, though it seemed as if people were keeping to themselves more so than might have been normal. Whereas one might expect people of all ages to be milling about in the streets, very few seemed to be doing such a thing – civilians retreated into the confines of shops and similar establishments to go about their daily businesses, giving little more than a passing ‘hello’ to those who walked by them at best. She’d not seen this before; it was hard to tell whether or not this was the norm in Serine City, but it definitely contradicted what she knew of public operations.

Oh, dear… Unfortunately, that was not to be the only thing that did so, for the woman in red soon found herself to be crossing paths with a most peculiar individual. To be fair, she’d seen her fair share of strange things already, but none could have prepared her for what was charging her way. Indeed, charging was an understatement, for Meifeng had little choice but to perform a rather swift sidestep as the offending entity plunged itself headlong into the solid brick wall of the nearest building. The collision was earthshattering and, in all honesty, she flinched and covered her eyes as her ears were graced with a resounding crunch. There were a few audible gasps and stifled yells from nearby civilians, but the most distinctive of sounds was a crumbling noise – brickwork falling away as whatever supported it was pulled away. Equal parts surprised and concerned, she opened her eyes to look.

“Are… Are you alright, sir…?” the lady of the Bai Household did ask, still trying to make sense of what had just taken place. There was now a rather large hole in the wall of the building, the bricks knocked inward by the force of the impact they had just experienced, but the most peculiar feature of this incident was not the damage dealt, but the damage dealer. A man stood in the street just a matter of yards from her, wobbling precariously to and fro and twitching rhythmically. He was a short fellow, standing a few inches below the lady’s own modest height of five feet and seven inches, and possessed what appeared to be a rather stocky build. That was where the norm ended, giving way to the bizarre.

“I’m fi-i-i-i-ine, thank you!” he exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously and regaining his composure. His pronunciation of the word ‘fine’ seemed anything but, given he had added the best part of four additional syllables, seeming to struggle with his ‘eye’ sounds. Meifeng couldn’t see his eyes – she wondered if he could even see what was in front of him – for his head was adorned with the most nonsensical and impractical example of a helmet she had ever laid eyes upon. Indeed, the helm seemed to be forged of steel and probably conformed quite nicely to his head shape, but the sheer additional mass made it look downright stupid! An enormous set of curving metal horns protruded from his headwear, akin to the horns of a ram; if not for them being spiralled in design, each was probably a good six feet long from base to tip. How he could move around with such adornments was beyond understanding, but at least the helm had protected his head from the impact. Aside from the helm, he was bare-chested, but donned an exceptionally small sheepskin jerkin around his shoulders and a pair of thick woollen shorts. His feet were clad in strangely small boots that contradicted the apparent musculature of his calves, further serving to make him look bizarre.

“Are you certain? You seem to have the… shakes,” she added, struggling to do anything but worry about this man’s health – mental as well as physical. But alas, he held up one small hand (a very small hand that clashed with the musculature of his forearm) in defiance and nodded sternly. The resulting head movement caused him to stumble a little, fighting to regain his balance as the weight of the horns tried to pull him off his feet.

“Rest assu-u-u-u-ured, ma’am, Ramsby is one hundred perce-e-e-e-ent A-OK!” There was no doubt in the swordswoman’s mind that this ‘Ramsby’ character was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but he seemed to think otherwise. Eccentricity would have been mild term for the peculiar manner of dress and behaviour he partook of, but there was certainly no denying the fact that his helmet had been responsible for the gaping hole in the wall through which several rather surprised patrons of the local business were now looking. The sheer force involved in the collision was impressive, far beyond Miss Bai’s own meagre cutting abilities, but his lack of refinement was just as obvious. Such power unbridled was one thing, but brute force was only one half of the equation of combat effectiveness. Still, something concerned her, and that was the reason as to why this man had apparently charged her in the first place. Concerns for the man’s well-being now fading, a more serious tone swept over her.

“May I ask what it was that you intended by charging at me, Mister Ramsby? You could well have inflicted a lot more damage that just this hole in the wall, you do realise?” Meifeng told him sternly, retaining her typical manners and going out of her way not to seem aggressive about the fact that she could well have been impaled upon those horns of his. Ramsby tilted his head innocently, soon regretting his decision to do so as he staggered off a little to the side before righting himself.

“My apologie-ie-ie-ie-ies, ma’am! I can guarantee that I didn’t inte-e-e-e-end to cause any harm to you or dama-a-a-a-age this fine establishment’s wall! You see, I stopped to tie my boo-oo-oo-oo-oot lace, but when I tried to stand I ended up fa-a-a-a-alling forwards and struggled to regain control. Next thing I know, I’m he-e-e-e-ere!” At this point, the noblewoman was greatly regretting asking him in the first place – his speech tick was drilling and his incompetence startling – but her stunned silence was quickly filled by the angered voice of an emerging shopkeeper who seemed very distraught about his wall. Indeed, a few too many expletives were included in the businessman’s fury for her liking, but drowning out such words towards the end of his rant would provide you with the following sentence:

“You’ll pay for this!”

“I fully intend to, si-i-i-i-ir!” Ramsby announced, turning around on the spot and beginning to march forwards. “I shall capture ‘Superstar’ Preston and repay my de-e-e-e-ebt to you! Ramsby, awa-a-a-a-ay!”

Well, at least now I know exactly why he’s here… Meifeng thought, watching the horn-helmed buffoon as he starting to run forwards, only to end up charging back down the street head first as the weight of his excessive headgear pulled him forwards. It appeared that turning in this hotshot rookie pirate was not going to be as easy as she would have liked it, for contenders for the prize were now starting to make themselves known to her…

SPOILER: Click to show

{*Spoiler*}

(e61919)
Ramsby (baaaaa)

[/ul][/spoiler][/div][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

Jude exited the eatery at an easy pace, looking utterly amused with himself. Or to be more exact, he was amused by the seriousness with which the waitress apparently took her job. Yes, what he had said was ‘-and would you bring me a large to-go cup too, please?’ But he had only expected to receive a moderately sized paper receptacle, not a monstrous plastic goblet the size of his head that looked as if it had been cast from melted down traffic cones. To top it off, the restaurant did not stock any straws long enough to reach the bottom of it, which only brought up more questions about why they had such a cup in the first place. And given the substantial liquid bounty contained within, lifting the mug up to your mouth felt like you were balancing a twenty pound weight on your chin. Being the clever thing that she was, his waitress had stuck one straw inside the top of another to form a flimsy but effective replacement. That dedication had all but forced him to leave a generous tip. After all, she’d gone through a lot of trouble, and what sort of person would he be to ignore that?

The answer to that was ‘not broke’, but he had done it anyway. It was a cool cup. Who wants to die as an old miser anyway? Besides, he was sure Rav would understand. If it was explained tactfully enough, and while he was in the right mood. Or more ideally, if he was informed of what had transpired by the written word, after the travelling minstrel had already put a great deal of distance between them.

At some point along this train of thought, he was caught by a rather nippy gust of wind. It was unexpected given the weather, and he found himself wishing he had his coat. Actually, where was his coat? It was just a simple brown sports jacket, but it matched his pants quite well, and he’d rather not have to find another one. He did not remember having it at the café at all, or even back when he was walking around deciding where to get breakfast. The last place he remembered having it was… Right. The casino. Well, that actually works out quite nicely. Perhaps he could play another game or two while he was there.

With a destination in mind, he set out down the streets again. Locating one brightly lit neon sign is more difficult that one might think in the daylight hours, particularly when surrounded by numerous similar advertisements. But he was a city slicker at heart, and was eventually able to retrace his steps from the night before. Of course, all the shouting and hollering going on helped too. As he approached the building, it became very obvious that there was some kind of row going on by the front door. There was a large group of rather foul tempered looking men and women striking one other with words and weapons alike. It must have been going on for a few minutes now too, as there had been time for a small crowd to form around the edge of what could tentatively be called the strike-zone. Jude followed their example, settling himself against the corner of a nearby building with a good view of the proceedings. This also put him within a few feet of another bystander, who seemed rather occupied by the action of, well. Bystanding.

He was a stocky gentleman, somewhere in the neighborhood of forty or fifty. Though short of stature, he had the sort of wide shoulders that Jude had always associated with athletes. It gave him the impression of a man who had a very active youth. Middle age took a lot from you, but he was weathering the weight of his years with dignity. Lines down his cheeks and brow made him look like a man who liked to smile, as he was now. He wore sunglasses, or at least the little sun lenses that clipped on over one’s existing eyewear, and his has was shaved military-style. Though he would not have found it terribly surprising to find that the man had it cut short simply to conceal a receding hairline. The suit though, now THAT was certainly what drew attention. It was Expensive, with a capital ‘E’. Cut from a fine grey wool fabric, none of that synthetic rubbish that gives off an awkward shine in direct line, with what he guessed to be a silken interior. It was all sharp patterns and defined edges, carefully maintained, and something like emeralds sparkled off the cufflinks. Standing there next to him, Jude was starting to feel mildly under-dressed. Suffice to say, this was a new experience for him. Generally it happened the other way ‘round.

Yes, it was absolutely certain. His outfit would have let the man cut a striking figure in any establishment on the island, if not for a single solitary issue. A pebble, if you would, in his metaphorical shoe. You see, none of the opulent garments really fit him.

To be fair, it probably had been well-tailored at the time it was made. But that date must be long past by now. The person wearing it now was just a few inches shorter, and maybe fifty or so pounds heavier than had been originally intended. It bugled in places, and hung down too far in others. Nothing terrible of course, but it was definitely noticeable to those who looked. The sight was enough to make the wiry musician adjust his own shirt accordingly.

Maybe it was the motion that caught the man’s attention, maybe not, but regardless he glanced to the side and their eyes met. They were a pale green, the color of a faded dollar bill, against the honeyed amber of Jude’s own. Of course at this point, by virtue of the social contract that had bound the world since time immemorial, the two were now obligated to speak to one another. Rather than suffer through the awkward pause in which they each waited for the other to begin to speak, Jude decided to take the initiative. “Mornin’.”

The other man echoed the greeting cheerily, or at least in the same approximation of cheer everyone uses when exchanging pleasantries. “G’morning.”

Neither really had much more to say than that. And since he didn’t feel like talking about the weather, the scrawny musician went ahead and commented on the obvious.

“My, seems things have gotten rather lively, haven’t they?”

“Hah! ‘Lively’. That’s a word for it.” The fellow huffed. Out of a pocket he produced a small metal tin and in a move so practiced that it hardly even seemed to register as a conscious action he popped the lid off, nabbed a small portion of finely shredded leaves, and placed them between his front teeth and upper lip. Chewing tobacco. It made him pronunciation words strangely, as if his vowels were more rounded. Or maybe that was just his normal accent? “Mind, not the one I’d have chosen for it. Maybe ‘disorderly’, or ‘unproffessional’. Bloody amateurs.”

“Nothing to be done about it. Best to just let them tucker themselves out, I’d say. Unless you’ve the motivation to wade in there and set them straight yourself.” Jude said, leaning closer conspiratorially as if they might be overheard. He was not sure why, it had just seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

“Pfft. That mess? Not likely. You’ve the winning idea, if I ever heard one.” The heavy set gentleman chuckled, an act which made his cheeks wiggle as if gelatinous. After a few seconds of mutual amusement, he turned his head and regarded the new arrival a bit more closely. While the process itself was brief, it gave Jude a very distinct impression of being, well. Weighed. Scrutinized. And while he was no stranger to either, even reveling in it from time to time, he still found it oddly unsettling. At some point it seemed the man found whatever he was looking for, and made a decision. “Payden.”

Even after the stubby hand was thrust up toward him, it took longer than he’d really like to admit to realize that the word was supposed to be a name. “Goethe.”

They shook hands in a brief, manly fashion, and then both turned back towards the show. “Am I to assume you’re in on the game as well?”

Hm. He had to take a few moments to consider that statement. A casual glance in either direction confirmed his initial assessment. The place was deserted, save for the participants of the brawl outside the casino, and a few other shabby-looking stragglers who were all watching the violence unfold. Which, in case you were not familiar with the area, simply DOES NOT HAPPEN in this city. It could be five-thirty in the morning on a Saturday in the middle of a hailstorm and you would STILL find yourself rubbing shoulders with a disagreeable-looking gentleman who smelt strongly of sweat and whatever form of industrial solvent they had been convinced was beer the night before. Its current state, well. It implied a lot about what was going on, even if the specifics escaped him. “Well, I’d be rather silly to be standing around here if I wasn’t, now wouldn’t I?”

Payden looked as though he was about to respond, but the sound of a bone shattering crunch derailed whatever he had been trying to say. One of the men in suits had been sent flying, in a manner that until now Jude had only ever associated with golf balls. And the golfer in this situation, appeared to be a svelte young woman wielding a rather large mallet and a ferocious grin. Of the two, he was not sure which seemed more intimidating. Yes, yes, he had to agree. A person would have to be positively foolish to hang around a place like this.

Jude took another sip from his massive obnoxiously-colored mug, wondering idly what it said about him that he was still standing there.