Is it Really a Pub without a Pub Brawl???

[The Love Ballad]

It was another twilight in Loguetown, the unofficial jewel of the East. Hues of red, orange and gold met the crystal blue of the ocean by the docks. The natural beauty cut by the sight of wooden barges and steel and concrete buildings. The sounds of industry and work overshadowing the cawing of the gulls. Where once nature had seen fit to create the island, man had taken to conquering it, turning it into a town of his own making. A land of opportunity, and of despair.

Mag, of course, was feeling a lot more of the latter than the former. He hated how many marines there were running around the city, sticking their noses into his business. So what if his money was sourced through illegal means? And so what if his booze wasn't exactly safe for human consumption, it was still damn good at getting the job done. The thug mumbled to himself at the bar, not for the first time he found himself missing the irregulars who had pretended to be city watch back in his home. There was a lot to say about the green fields and tiny villages of shepherds and farmers from which he had hailed, but an abundance of law and order was not one of those things.

The pirate slammed back another pint of the lukewarm shite that the pub dared to call ale, letting the amber liquid flow down his gullet and fill his core. It was sad in a way, all he spent his money on was booze and gambling. But whenever he began to get depressed about his lot in life, the young thug had but one thing to remember, drinking and gambling were his damned passions. By hook or by crook, he would drink until he died!

And thus, on that rather uneventful evening in Loguetown, the pirate found himself in yet another dive bar masquerading as a pub, this one not 20 metres from the bright blue ocean itself. The food had been awful, some kind of shepherd's pie without potato. He had almost threatened the bar wench over that one. His pa's profession was once more insulted by that crime. He had little love left for the old man, but he'd be blighted if he didn't respect the geezer, and his good name had been taken in vain! Yet he had eaten it, and washed it down with close to a dozen pints of the house ale they served. Had he been any other man, Mag was sure that he would be drunk enough to collapse by now, but years on the bottle had strengthened his body to the poisons it regularly ingested. As such, the redheaded street tough found himself pleasantly buzzed and demanding yet another drink from the barkeep.

He had cut ties with his latest crew, and was probably going to try to sling the series of barrels of grog he'd been brewing over the past few months at the market over the next few weeks. Once he had the capital to set out again to the great blue ocean, with hopes of finally finding a group of men whose ambition matched his own. Mag was sick of the monotony his life had settled into, drink, fight, work, rob, drink, and so on and so on. By the great creator above, whatever he or she may be, the man wanted something a little greater. Drinking was one way to numb the aching for greatness, and thus he found himself indulging in his vice. Of course, deep down he hoped that it would combine with his second vice, fighting. A drunken brawl was the only time Mag truly felt alive.

"Another drink, lass!" Mag roared, aware that once again his internal conflict had spilled out into his words in the form of anger. Truth be told, he didn't care.

The young brunette, with her adorable baby-face and matching physique, or lack thereof, yelped an affirmative response and shyly returned to pouring him yet another glass of beer. The earlier bartender had been an older gentleman with a sailor's gait to him, but he was nowhere to be seen. As it stood, between the bartenders and the waitresses, the only staff appeared to be young attractive women. Experience told Mag that was trouble waiting to happen, a fight would start, either by some young dumb fool defending the honour from an even dumber drunken fool or by the general ruckus caused by drunken sailors and workers.

"H-here you are, sir," the young bartender said as she passed the drink to the pirate, almost half of it head.

Mag grunted and passed her the beri owed, before slamming the warm beer down his throat in one long chug. The bar was a shithole, that much was certain. The constant shouting by working class men only fastened that idea in his mind. All at once, Mag felt both at edge and at home, the perfect sense of comfortableness he had grown accustomed to in his six years at sea.

The redhead stole the half drunk pint from the passed out man to his left, and sipped at the beverage as he people watched over his shoulder. Seeing if anyone in the crowd of drunken revelers was anything more than yet another blue-collar drunkard like himself.

[Vio]

By some miracle, he’d made it to Loguetown. By some miracle, he’d made it there safely. But celebrations of his voyage thus far were of no importance to the man known as Savoie Augustus as he plodded along the promenade of the town of the beginning and the end. Men and women alike gave him an appropriately wide berth, and for good reason, for likely none had ever spied such a monstrosity as this marching through the streets.

The steps of steely boots were slow and purposeful, supporting a man who stood above the masses at well over two metres. Though despite his weighty footfalls and formidable size, the man himself at least wore a long, tattered cloak over his shoulders that concealed much of the beast beneath — a beast of tin and timber that would likely instill further worry into the hearts of those surrounding him. It was a known fact. Even he disliked it, wearing a flat frown upon his face as he made for the nearest alehouse, knowing full well that he looked more like a hunchbacked monster than any average man.

The light of an admittedly beautiful sunset made his auburn mane seem all the more like fire wrapped about his skull as he extended a black gloved hand and pushed open the door. The sounds of drunkards having the usual laugh and banter at first graced his ears, but silence befell the establishment almost immediately. A low growl in his throat did not make it very far as he cast his eyes over the patrons, glaring down a couple of those who gawked at his stature and odd shape before lumbering towards the bar.

Augustus ignored an otherwise empty bar stool.

“Barkeep,” he uttered throatily, palming down cash on the countertop with a distinctive thud, rattling the whole thing just enough to stir an unconscious man back to his senses, barely. The bartender herself had already looked nervous initially. Now she seemed distinctly pale, as if she were about to pass out. Oddly enough, he thought it best not to make too much of a scene. “A pint of your strongest … and a keg of water.”

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)

[The Love Ballad]

The cavalcade of drunken revelry and cheer came to a crashing halt by the arrival of a new visitor. The sight of an older carpenter laughing and bragging about a young woman he’d conquered the night before suddenly shutting his mouth and gawking at the door was both amusing and surprising to the pirate. Mag swivelled his whole torso in an uncomfortable way to grab a look at whoever’s presence was so overbearing to shut up the entire bar, and quickly found himself taken aback by the sight. The man hardly seemed a man, more machine than human, huge and threatening in a way that Mag very rarely saw. He was intrigued.

The bartender, on the other hand, was most certainly not intrigued. She was terrified, but she was still professional, even through her pale face and giant eyes. She kept her head down as she poured the pint of blackened stout, filling the glass to the brim without any head. The lass had done well, even if she was terrified and well and truly out of her depth. She’d make a fine bar wench in the future, Mag was sure, the kind of lady who took no transgression from any uppity drunkard.

Mag didn’t notice the sound pick back up as he watched the scene unfold before him, he’d been distracted by the newcomer and later by the girl. Yet true to form, the bar quickly raised itself up to its earlier decibel level. The shouting and drunken conversations once more flowing throughout the pub.

Temporarily distracted by the return of the sound, Mag slammed back the beer he had been sipping on, before realising that by finishing that drink he was now out of alcohol. There were no more absent pints for him to swipe. The redheaded street thug spat on the ground, ignoring the glares he received from some of the other patrons as he did so, and shouted out to the barkeep once more, “Lass, another pint, ay!”

Mag was well and truly aware that the girl was struggling to hall a keg of water out from the back of the bar and to the gigantic newcomer, but he didn’t care. The big man had a drink, he could wait for his second. Mag, on the other hand, had run on dry. “Leave the keg for now, ay, it’ll take ye’ all night to move it.”

Mag gave his award-winning smirk to the young bartender, who shot him a very unhappy glance. A glance that soon shrunk into a silent panic. The realisation of the situation suddenly unfurling upon her. She had to get the keg of water to the cyborg, but the man demanding a glass of beer had been leering at her all night with those terrifying eyes of his. Seeing her panic, Mag couldn’t help but feel at least a little bad, he had no desire to upset the lass. He’d just wanted to toy with her, and then get plastered drunk and try to sneak out of the bar without paying.

“Big man, ye’re ok wit’ te’ lass waiting wit’ te’ water?” He lazily asked the monstrous form, “Oi got a thirst all me own.”

The smile that Mag shot was equal parts sleezy and unsettling, the effect exemplified by his mix of crooked and steel teeth.

[Vio]

^{Augustus #2 ❘ Kasasagi #1}

---

The plunging taste of thick alcohol was a welcome break to Augustus’ tongue — a welcome heat to his throat as he gulped down the first quarter of a pint with little concern. The rest he could perhaps savour. For now, just getting some liquid into his systems — both biological and mechanical — was the priority. The usual nonsense could wait a while. Rushing would get him nowhere. Like every other man here, he was here to relax, even if his imposing stature seemed anything but relaxing.

And then, one rowdy customer spoke up.

Mister Savoie’s gaze shifted across the bar to the one who had piped up, observing a rough-looking figure. Nothing to write home about, that was a surely accurate assessment of the drunkard, whose thick hair made him more apish than human. In fact, what he saw was a man who had clearly picked a few too many fights in his life, and likely had the scars to prove it…

^{—— ON THE STREETS ——}

^{“Damn thief!”}

^{“After him!”}

“Don’t let ‘im get away!” These were the yells of a simple group of street thugs carried on the wind, each in hot pursuit of a shady runaway on the move through the back alleys of Loguetown. Deep purple fabric billowing about him as he fled the scene of the crime, the young man wore a smirk upon his face as he dodged and weaved between the buildings. His latest victims were hot on his tail, but this he didn’t mind, for he already knew he’d gained a significant lead upon them.

^{“Sorry, gents,” Sunshaku Kasasagi grinned:
“But I’ll be making my exit!”}

By now, Magpie was on the main promenade. With more than a substantial lead on his latest victims and a substantial bit of extra cash in his pocket, he could only maintain a sly, confident smile as he sought a final means of escape. And the best one possible just so happened to be open for business. With hasty steps, he approached the door of a local tavern, but quickly adjusted his pace to something more cool and casual as he opened the door and stepped in, as if nothing untoward had happened.

Augustus paid no mind to the newest patron to enter the shop, however. The Cyborg’s eyes were firm upon the hairy heathen who had so crudely interrupted his order for the sake of filling his own tankard. At least it seemed the man had some sense of decency, daring to pose the question of patience, and that eased Savoie’s mind somewhat. Not a lot, but it was something.

^{“Hmm,” he groaned slightly:
“Sure… No real need to rush.”}

“My dear,” Kasasagi chirped as he slid casually onto a nearby barstool between the two fiery-headed brutes, gloved fingers sliding a small wad of notes onto the countertop. “A bottle of your finest red, if you’d please.”

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)
Sunshaku Kasasagi (9f4576)

Unknown (88e4c6)
Unknown (e4bf88)
Unknown (e488c7)

[The Love Ballad]

Mag raised his empty glass to the big man as he acquiesced to his rather rudely-put demand to the young bar wench to hold off on his keg of water. The shit-eating grin didn’t leave the redheaded man’s unsightly face as he continued to look at the cyborg. Even as the brunette behind the bar let out a little bark of acknowledgement and proceeded to pouring another tankard of ale for the smaller of the two brutes. It was clear to all what the light in Mag’s eyes was reflecting, dancing emptions upon pools of deep brown, he had won a little victory that day.

The East Blue, truth be told, had been a rather peaceful experience for the young pirate. Compared to the North and its cutthroats, he’d barely been involved in a fight. A few brawls here or there, but naught to write home about. Not that he did write home, the thought of telling his father about the misdeeds he had gotten up to was not an idea that the thug cherished. The dockworker could imagine the ill-gotten path his progeny had set foot on without confirmation. As his thoughts turned back to home, Mag silently cursed to himself, he’d stared at his tankard for far too long. What was it about this blue-forsaken town that caused him to constantly think of his past? It didn’t matter what his father thought. Angry now, the street-tough took a long sip of his drink, entirely oblivious to the new man at the bar’s counter.

On the other hand, the barkeeper was well and truly aware of the new demands. With another yelp of surprise and acknowledgement she released the keg of water, opting to duck into the back to retrieve an expensive bottle of wine without a second thought. It appeared that a single statement of a lack of a need to rush and she had prioritised the other orders over that of the cyborg.

Mag was quick to notice the absence of the young lass, as she escaped out back in search of some shiraz or merlot or whatever it was the sommeliers praised so highly. The keg of water that had been ordered first remained well and truly set in the middle of the floor, unattended and forgotten.

Mag shot another of his broken grins toward the bigger man, “Aye, sorry about that one, lad. Seems the lass has forgotten ye’.”

The thug let out a guttural laugh, the sound of his throat well and truly sounding through the bark. After all, it seemed the big man was all appearance and no bite, Mag had a victory under his belt and he very much doubted that he was in danger of a rise out of the man savouring his beverage.

“Best hope ye’ red be worth it, ye’re gon’ see this here boy go thirsty,” Mag now laughed in the direction of the newcomer.

Mag was very much aware of the looks he was getting from the concerned patrons seated at various tables around the bar. He was loud, obnoxious and seemed to be trouble waiting to happen.

[Vio]

^{Augustus #3 ❘ Kasasagi #2}

---

Augustus’ eyes rolled at the comment. Another interruption in the barmaid’s quest to fetch water, and this one was an entirely different sort, even going so far as to order wine — by the bottle at that. A sharply featured man in his early twenties at a guess, the cloaked and suited figure that now sat between the Cyborg and the sleazeball was anything but the typical sailor or labourman one would expect to frequent such an establishment. In fact, it rather reminded the man of his adoptive father: A man of expensive taste and high standards of etiquette.

What’s a man like that doing in a place like this…? Mister Savoie questioned silently, weakly raising an eyebrow as he attended to his own beverage, sipping little by little the alcoholic contents. Come to think of it, this drink was nothing particularly fantastic. Standard alehouse booze as typical of the local watering hole of simple cities and towns. Still, he eyed the keg across the way as the meek barkeep shuffled around it in search of the newcomer’s choice.

^{“Oh, believe me,” Kasasagi replied:
“It’ll be worth every Belly!”}

Seemingly unfazed by the raucous ramblings of the human orangutan, Magpie simply turned to the figure on his other side, taking a moment to register what he was seeing. An enormous man without a seat — if only because such a stature would likely crush the stool beneath it — it seemed ‘boy’ was anything but an apt moniker. To be entirely truthful, and despite the cool look upon his face, there was certainly a slight glint of surprise and curiosity in the thief’s eyes as he took in the unusual features of a man more than a head taller than him standing.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he added with a tip of the hat.

^{“Hm,” Augustus grunted in retort:
“Don’t worry about it…”}

He lied.

Man’s lying through his teeth, Mister Sunshaku noted. Still, better not to cross a beast like that. Could snap me like a twig if I do… Silent but certain assessments were left to the tongues of the mind, but quick was he to stow such worries in favour of another ploy as he made backup plans to his backup plans. Ever the thinker, he knew for certain he hadn’t shaken his last marks, but this place might’ve offered the best shelter he could have hoped to find in such a short space of time.

“Thank you kindly,” the gentleman nodded as the barmaid returned with a glass and a standard of fine red. She placed the former on the counter before slipping a corkscrew from somewhere and went to pop the cork, but before she could he reached out a hand and took hold of the screw, and partly her hand. With a sly smile and a nod to the side, he added: “Now, now, don’t you go and waste your time with me. I believe that gentleman’s still waiting for his second…?”

With a blush and a nod, the barmaid let him take the corkscrew and bottle, allowing her the opportunity to return to Mister Savoie’s wayward keg, much to the man’s gratitude. No more interruptions meant he could finally attain the other missing piece of the puzzle — the precious liquid that gave life not only to him, but to the very devicery he was bound to.

Pop! The cork sounded.

Bang! The tavern doors replied…

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)
Sunshaku Kasasagi (9f4576)

Unknown (88e4c6)
Unknown (e4bf88)
Unknown (e488c7)

[The Love Ballad]

Mag lazed back on to his stool, his interest piqued by the two men who had so-recently joined him at the bar. Both were painfully out of place in the establishment, and both were painfully aware of the other being out of place. It was an interesting dynamic, one that the North Blue native enjoyed as if it were street theatre. By the great lords of the sea, he had been bored in Loguetown, it was supposed to be a city of grand opportunity. It had taken far too long for the appearance of interesting characters. Now there were too before him, the behemoth of machinery and flesh that had joined him earlier. Mag had assumed that his fiery hair would betray a fiery temper, and was rather disappointed to discover just how wrong he had been in that regard. The new gentleman on the other hand had gained Mag's attention for an entirely different reason, that of course being that he was in fact a gentleman.

The well-dressed man had rather smoothly blown off Mag's comment about the price of the red, and that alone had secured all the pirate's thoughts about the newer-newcomer. He was far too upper class for such a joint, just as out of place among the dockworkers and street-toughs as the cyborg before him. The ease through which he flirted with the barmaid and the fact alone that he had brought attention to the plight of the cyborg and his lack of water all but assured that fact in Mag's half-drunken mind.

Such were the thoughts coalescing in the pirate's brain as he lazily dug his hand into his pocket and drew a loose cigarette and lighter. His eyes moved between the two men as he lit up, pointedly ignoring the looks that one of the waitresses was shooting him from the other side of the room.

The barmaid was finally getting the cyborg his keg, and with that motion it seemed all to inevitable that any risk of provocation of the machine-man-hybrid had ended. Mag had had his fun with the playful taming of the giant, there was no need for him to push it past that point. Content with the faint buzz behind his eyes and that the two odd gentleman seemed to be of cooler tempers than he hoped, Mag slowly ambled to his feet. His hands lazily shoved into his pockets and the cigarette even lazier in its position in his lips, lolling out of his mouth and ashing haphazardly onto the wooden floor of the tavern.

Maybe he'd go get drunk in an alleyway, that seemed to be the best way to see the sorts of people he could trick into fighting so that he could swipe their valuables. Drunken revelry was an expensive hobby, and looting other drunken revelers was the best way to fund it.

Paying no mind to the two gentleman he'd shared the briefest of interactions with, Mag all but meandered over to the pub's doors, his eyes focused on the barmaid and waitresses. Surely they hadn't picked up that he hadn't fully paid off his tab, they were far too busy to notice that he'd only been charged for every second drink. With a mischievous smirk, he was more than content that he'd gotten away with it.

The crash sent him flying to the floor. The tavern doors had been launched open with such speed that Mag could barely bring himself to notice quite what was going on. The alcohol may have played some small part, as well, not that he'd ever admit that to himself. All that the tipsy pirate knew was that one moment he was approaching the doors and the next he was on his arse with a painful throb on his forehead.

"Ye', fekin' wanker!" He roared, launching to his feet and throwing a haymaker with his right hand in one swift moment. Not even bothering to get a look at whoever it was who had just entered the building.

Of course, it went without saying that he hadn't bothered to consider the consequences of such an action either. For the umpteenth time in Maguire Magherafelt Jr.'s life, the firewater was doing the talking.

[Vio]

^{Augustus #4 ❘ Kasasagi #3}

---

Augustus turned, peering over his shoulder at whatever had caused the ruckus, and what greeted his eyes were the silhouettes of no less than three burly men in the doorway, plus a more familiar figure who had been knocked to the floor. Yet another interruption in his quest to fetch water. This was very much turning out to be anything but a good day for the cyborg as he glanced back to the struggling barmaid. By now, she’d finally gotten the keg — a barrel of perfect size — to the counter. The problem now was getting it around to him.

“Uh…? Sorry—!” Barely did the intruder have time to apologise for what was a mishap before none other than the fiery ape let loose upon the unsuspecting. That was it. The first punch had been thrown. That was all such an establishment really needed. Within seconds, the unfortunate target of Mag’s drunken fury made to strike back, returning the boozer’s haymaker with an uppercut of his own. A silence that had befallen the entire bar was suddenly broken by yells and cheers of many a man half-soaked.

“Well,” Kasasagi uttered to himself, taking a swig of his grape juice. “I believe that’s my cue,” the man noted, flipping himself over from his barstool to the other side of the counter and somehow not even disturbing the glass and bottle. Sliding over to the startled barmaid, he lent a much needed hand, grabbing the water keg and lifting it onto the counter in such a way that it conveniently blocked the line of sight between himself and the newcomers — familiar faces.

What’s his angle…? Mister Savoie’s attentions were divided. On one hand, the brawl commencing had added a certain liveliness to the scene. On the other, the shady sir had willingly given a hand to him — twice even. Augustus’ suspicions rose. This fellow was clearly trying to get into his good books for one reason or another, and it didn’t take a genius to figure that said reason might’ve involved the three men now enticing a fight from the inebriated and the irritable.

^{“Where is he!?” yelled one man:
“Where is that damned thief!?”}

“Did ‘e pay you off!?” Regardless of whether or not Mag had dodged the first one, the very same brute was throwing another fist his way — a hard straight from the left. Already enraged by the pickpocket’s antics, it was clear they had little patience; even clearer that they too had been partaking of some carousing beforehand. Boastful drunkards were easy marks.

Kasasagi smiled at Augustus. Augustus did not return the smile. A large gloved hand grabbed the keg, easily lifting it away from the counter, much to the former’s dismay.

“There he is! Get him!” The third barreled across the bar, practically tossing himself over the counter at the swift swindler, knocking the keg out of the goliath’s grip, which bounced off the counter and rolled back towards the stores from whence it had originally been rolled. Magpie dodged backwards, narrowly avoiding the man’s grasp and the flying container.

“You little f*ck,” Savoie seethed. Heavy fingers wrapped around the bruiser’s collar, heaving his entire weight around and flinging him back across the room. The cloak dropped, revealing a fully armoured framework — an entire carapace of brass and all. “I’ve been waiting for that keg since I got here!” he bellowed raspily, footfalls heavy as he moved into the fray.

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)
Sunshaku Kasasagi (9f4576)

Unknown (88e4c6)
Unknown (e4bf88)
Unknown (e488c7)

[The Love Ballad]

Mag's roar was something inhuman, more akin to the cry of a wounded ape than any sound resembling speech. The howl escaping from his maw at the same time that his fist made contact with the miserable blighter who had dared to throw him on his arse. Of course, the liquid that had fueled his outburst had also caused him to overstretch with his punch, and the simple fact was Mag hadn't thought to consider that a counterattack was even an option. The uppercut in reply caught Mag squarely in the chin, and his neck cracked back with a painful movement. As if in shock, the pirate took a step back, reacquainting himself with the situation. Three people had entered the bar, and it seemed that Mag had the good sense to pick a fight with all three. The fiery-headed, fiery-tempered thug smirked, for once without teeth. The smirk made him painfully aware that he had lost his cigarette. He'd just lit the darn thing.

As if spurred on by his lack of tobacco, the small-town bandit turned small-time sea-bandit dropped his back foot and into a comfortable boxing stance. This was just what he needed, the only thing better than getting drunk was a drunken fight after all.

"Oi dun' even know wot yer talkin' 'bout," Mag spat back at his opponent.

The second punch was telegraphed, far too telegraphed to be of any effect. Mag ducked his head back, easily dodging the blow, he wasn't making the same mistake twice. Twisting his feet, Mag dug his right arm into his opponent in a vicious uppercut to the ribs. His left followed soon after, the air escaping from the lungs of the newcomer. It was painfully obvious to Mag that the man had indulged in more than just a drop of liquor that night, even more painful was the fact that he didn't know how to deal with intoxication let alone how to fight while intoxicated. Mag had near a decade of experience.

The next blow would come from Mag, a telegraphed right haymaker. It was obvious, that was until the pirate's shoulder seemed to dislocate in its movement, as it dodged the haphazard upper block the new entrant through up and dug into the right side of his ribs. A quick left followed suit, then a right, then a left, then a right again. Mag's hands moved quick, and they dished out body blow after body blow. When the Loguetown thug attempted to defend himself from such hits, he finally copped a blow to the temple. He hit his knees almost instantly.

Another guttural roar from Mag, coupled with a kick and the man was sent sprawling into the closest table. The two sailors who'd been cheering on the action quickly changed their tone from one of barracking glee to one of rage. Moving toward the ongoing tussle by the front door. Mag shot a glance, well aware that the numbers were quickly turning against him. As if by a saving grace he cast his vision towards where he had been seated and saw the behemoth finally falling to his rage. Mag had tried so darned hard as well!  He couldn't see the fine-looking gentleman, but he did see that the cyborg had thrown the third assailant with the force of a gale wind.

Mag had to think quickly, adrenaline overpowering alcohol. Fortunately, he moved quicker. The man crashed towards the second entrant, the one who had been yelling, and pummeled him in the back of the head with a fist before he could react. Before he could think about the logic of his idea, he grabbed the dizzy fellow's shoulders and shoved with all his might, toward the cyborg.

"Catch!" Mag bellowed, barely even looking to where he was throwing before he turned toward the angered dockworkers.

"Lads, lads," Mag raised his hands in mock surrender, "This is clearly a misunderstanding!"

Mag moved quickly, darting back towards the door, the only exit to the establishment. He was well and truly aware of the crowd, it seemed his punch had been the match that lit a cinder keg. Men on the other side of the room, men he had not even noticed before had started their own little brawl.

The thug quickly looked left and right before grabbing the nearest chair to hastily block the door. As the two dock workers approached, he dropped into a hasty boxer's stance, finally dodging the first of their blows a straightforward jab to the chin.

The fight was not only on, it was a mess.

[Vio]

^{Augustus #5 ❘ Kasasagi #4}

---

Crash! The body of the man Augustus had just thrown slammed into a tabletop, scattering tankards and flagons and spilling their contents, very well near tipping the entire table over as its seated leapt to their feet. The Cyborg himself cared little for the looks of aggravation their eyes gave him. He was already fuming, and it was clear by their steps that they dared not to get involved with such a beast as he. Inebriated idiocy did not always incite foolhardiness, it seemed.

Unbridled rage, however, did.

Thwack! Savoie coughed as something hard slammed into his side with enough force to jarr his augmented form —a testament to the strength of some of those scoundrels present as the fight went into full swing. And also, a reminder that he was running on fumes. The last drops of his current keg left little more than a hollow hunk of wood secured to his back, giving him little to work with in regards to overpowering the competition. But fury blinded him to that reality as he turned to his latest attacker.

The Cyborg swung his left arm wide, a drunkard stumbling haphazardly out of harm’s way at the last second, exploiting through luck the difference in height between them. At about the same time, he heard the rowdy ruffian from before yell out as a stumbling mess of a man was shoved towards him. Augustus’ arm swung back, slamming the human projectile back to whence it had come with force, who proceeded to bowl over another man. Already was he beginning to lose track of who was who in this barney.

^{—— COUNTER ——}

Sunshaku Kasasagi, in the meantime, was busy pondering his next move under cover of the bar. The barkeep and her follow barmaids had mostly holed themselves up in a backroom, staying clear of the ruckus, leaving the confidence man closer to the fray than he might have liked as a tankard was flung and shattered a bottle of rum on one of the shelves.

“Well, this hasn’t gone according to plan,” he noted. Sure enough, he’d hoped to lose his marks by ducking into the bar and looking inconspicuous, though he hadn’t counted on the fact that they would have come in straight away. Maybe he had underestimated their clarity of judgment in their drunken stupor. Regardless, it was quite the pickle, and he needed a way out. Peering briefly over the countertop, he observed the scene. The door had been barricaded by none other than the hairy ape, which made his only method of escape the back entrance — the staff entrance area in which the barmaids had taken refuge.

It was just him and a keg.

^{Wait a minute… Kasasagi mused:
That’s my ticket out of here…!}

Doing his best to stay out of sight — and thus out of mind — he scurried over to the keg which blocked the doorway into the backrooms, rolling it slowly back towards the counter. Liquid weight was immense, even for such a small barrel, though it was nothing he couldn’t lift with a bit of work. He’d never truly been a labourman — backbreaking work wasn’t his port of call, despite his humble origins on a rice farm. Speed and deceit were his forte, as was being able to pass the buck.

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)
Sunshaku Kasasagi (9f4576)

Unknown (88e4c6)
Unknown (e4bf88)
Unknown (e488c7)

[The Love Ballad]

What had started as a simple conflict between a number of drunken men at the tavern's entrance had quickly devolved into an all out brawl. Mag wasn't even aware of who was fighting who, all he knew was that the two drunken working men who'd picked him out as a target were all too angry with his perceived transgressions. Another crazed haymaker flung toward's Mag's jaw. Mag all but fell backwards to dodge the blow, barreling into the hastily barricaded door. The dockworkers had split up, not wanting to risk overcrowding in the already increasingly chaotic bar. The taller of the two had taken to pummeling at Mag with blow after blow, to which the pirate continued to duck and weave as if possessed by the ghost of a ballet dancer.

Finally, an opening presented itself, the angered local had overly telegraphed a left-handed uppercut. With a crazed smirk fueled by a mix of adrenaline and ethanol, Mag let the blow pummel into his sternum. The pain was immense, and the loss of breath was worse, but Mag was exceptionally close to the drunkard. Mag unleashed a crushing headbutt, red hair making contact with black with a colossal thunk. Once more pain unleashed through the northerner, this time based in his forehead. For not the first time, he gave silent thanks that the alcohol had dampened the pain.

As the black-haired thug flopped to the ground, Mag let his bloodshot eyes shoot up in search of his compatriot. Only to see him sprawled on the floor, limbs intertangled with the arms of the drunk Mag had launched at the cyborg earlier.

The storm's eye settled around Mag. He was without opponents, at least for the moment, and he had a chance to calm himself and take stock of his situation. The tavern had well and truly collapsed into a carcophony of fists, shouting and spilled liquor.

Mag's head pounded, and he had more than just a few aches and pains. But the relative quiet close enough to him gave him an idea. If everyone was focused on each other, and the great lords of the sea only knew where the staff had gotten to. That meant that surely there'd at least be a few beri stored behind the counter.

Before he could think it through, Mag found himself rushing back toward the bar he'd so unceremoniously left not too long ago. He took not two steps before he found himself hit by a wayward chair. The wooden piece of furniture had smashed and splintered against his back. Where in the blazes had that even come from? Why did it hurt so god-damn much?

Rage overtook any reasonable thought and the ape-like man found himself lunging at the closest men to him, not even aware if they were responsible. All he knew was that he'd kicked a man in the back before the short fellow could even react, all but launching him into a table and sending the small gas lantern and its lighter fluid all over the wooden floor.

Mag, naturally, didn't notice. He was much too concerned with getting hit in the face by an absolute brute of a man.

[Vio]

^{Augustus #6 ❘ Kasasagi #5}

---

Savoie’s form turned to face the stumbling brawler who had struck him, who held in his hands the broken remnants of a barstool. That explained what had hit him. He wasn’t too happy about that. Another fierce swing of his fist sent the man back a few feet, flat on his back, which proceeded to get him trampled by a couple of other brawling drunkards. The stool flew elsewhere.

“Dumb f*cks,” he coughed. With a bit of respite from the fight, Augustus spent a moment to take stock of the situation as it unfurled. The bar was a mess. Tables had been flipped, drinks had been spilled, and chairs were being tossed. To make matters worse, the lack of any authoritarian figure meant that the scale of the situation was only going to get more and more out of hand. Heterochromatic eyes looked across to the counter, where he saw that strange man with the suit struggling with something under the counter. On the other side, the hairy ape was getting into yet another scrap.

Glass shattered.

^{“Psst! Big guy,” hissed the connoisseur:
“I do believe this belongs to you…?”}

A slight bit out of breath, Kasasagi stood with one elbow on the counter, patting the side of the keg. Now he had the cyborg’s attention, his plan of getting out of here could be furthered. Despite the confident smile on his face, he was still plagued by a bit of worry that this man could turn on him at any moment, but more than a few things had already gone wrong today. In short, Magpie wasn’t too worried about another mishap or two — he could easily outpace the brute if things went awry.

“About f*cking time,” Augustus muttered. With noticeably slowed steps, he lumbered back towards the bar, seeking his prize. But the steam-powered sir noticed the cool expression of the dashing man change all of a sudden to something much less collected.

^{“Oh, no,” Mister Sunshaku mouthed:
“That’s not good…!”}

^{“Wha— Oh, sh!t…”}

Flames. Flames were beginning to spread across the floor, but the vast majority of the crowd had failed to notice it, senses either dulled or completely blinded by drunken stupors and fury. And, of course, some idiot had decided it was a good idea to barricade the only easy way in and out of the tavern. The swindler watched as the cyborg heaved himself over to the countertop, his hands finally finding purchase on the barrel he had craved since arrival. If he was that sort, Kasasagi might’ve even felt sorry for previous interruptions.

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)
Sunshaku Kasasagi (9f4576)

Unknown (88e4c6)
Unknown (e4bf88)
Unknown (e488c7)

[The Love Ballad]

Mag unleashed a guttural roar, the sound bellowing deep from his core, tinged with fire and malice.  He threw another punch, clocking a sailor in the face with a powerful right fist. Blood seemed to cover the brawler, his fists had split open some time ago, the blood from his own fingers mixing with that from those that his knuckles made contact with. His head was a mix of black, blue and red, a dull throb from the punches fighting with the echoing throb from the alcohol . Mag was well and truly in his element.  He threw another punch, but for once his fist did not make contact with flesh or cloth. Rather, he found himself overswinging. As if on cue, his balance had been entirely thrown off, and Mag found himself wide open for an attack.

An attack that came from behind, a large man, not that Mag could see him grabbed the would be pirate by collar. He was off the floor before he could think, and flung across the room before that lack of thought process could process in turn. Mag crashed into the counter, his body bouncing off the bar and smashing against the shelf of whiskies and rums. Pain shot through his body, intense, ungodly pain. Glass cuts had added to the broken skin from the brawl, alcohol both stinging an cleansing the wounds that covered the thug's entire body. For a moment, Mag lay on the ground as if dead, before letting out a torrent of slurs under his breath and forcing himself to his knees. Amongst the glass, alcohol and wood, the wounded man coughed and spluttered barely aware of his surroundings.

As the dizziness faded, two thoughts entered his mind, the first was of the fellows near enough to the bar. The first gentleman was behind the bar, the second less-gentle man, well cyborg rather, was on the other side. What an odd coincidence,  and for the briefest of moments Mag considered if there was a greater power causing him to be drawn to the two. Of course, this run-on-train of a first thought was almost immediately overshadowed by the second thought. Fire. Fire was spreading throughout the tavern, slowly, and it seemed that none of the other drunken brawlers had yet to notice due to the comparative small size of the flames.

"Fek..." Mag muttered, forcing himself to his feet, unsteady as he did so. 

He had to get out of the tavern, things had gotten well and truly out of hand. Some idiot, Mag had absolutely no idea who, had knocked over a lantern and the whole damn bar was ablaze. He had to escape before his life was cut short before he could even hope to achieve a morsel of the greatness of which he was destined.  Mag shot a quick glance to the door blocking the backroom, vaguely aware of the fact that the young waitstaff has boarded themselves in such a room in hopes of protecting themselves from the rowdiness and brutality outside. Had he been a better man, Mag would have insisted that someone do something to save the lasses. alas he was far from a good man.

Mag's eyes darted from the fire to the two men before him, back to the fire, and then to the door he had made the mistake of barricading. A barricade that had since grown by two, two men that was, a pair of slumped and unconscious dockworkers had found themselves against the door. Had they been thrown or crawled their of their own accord, Mag did not know, nor did he particularly care.

"Uh, big lad," Mag coughed, "Can ye' force that door open? I dun' care to burn alive."

Mag laughed, a coughing one, he was painfully aware that he had intruded on a moment between the two and that the cyborg had finally retrieved his keg. As he did so he finally let his ripped, bloody, and tattered shirt fall to the ground. His bloody upper body seeing the light, messy and dirty red hair caked with blood overshadowed by the assortment of knives belted and taped to his chest. Small cuts evident across his beer gut and pecs. 

[Vio]

^{Augustus #7 ❘ Kasasagi #6}

---

Crash! Barely having time to register the fact that the bar was steadily becoming kindling for a spreading flame, Sunshaku Kasasagi dodged slightly sideways as the figure of a hairy ape — one now sporting more than a few cuts and bruises — was tossed over the counter and into the shelves of booze. Fortunately, of all the glass and grog spilled, none stained the swindler’s suit. This was perhaps the only real upside to this whole ordeal.

Clunk! … Clank! Gurgle! Stranger sounds still emanated from the form of Savoie Augustus, who had shed an old keg from his back — a completely dried out cask that rolled its way across the tavern’s floor and ended up tripping one drunken monkey as he made an extremely woozy stride. In place of that barrel, however, came the new one, full of water. Simple mechanisms clamped it into place, filling all manner of concealed tubes with a steady flow of liquid.

That’s better, the cyborg noted, already feeling his systems starting to whirr to life. Internal heat and pressure built up steadily, easing the lethargy of his movements. Now I can actually do sh!t, he affirmed, silently glaring to the man with a beer belly and a full arrangement of knives. Scum of the earth was no understatement when regarding what he was looking at — a beaten and battered figure, unkempt and displaying his shade for all to see in the form of dulled knives that littered belts.

The thug laughed.

^{“Can’t disagree with that,” Augustus replied:
“It’s Augustus, by the way.”}

Stepping forth amid the spreading flames that had now begun to draw the attention of brawlers and other rowdy drunkards, a strange whistling could be heard coming from the man’s artificial shell. Water boiling like it was inside a kettle over a fire, the odd pressure valve upon that curious carapace occasionally opened with a slight hiss and a puff of steam as he strode through the chaos with confidence. This was no weak and cumbersome soul anymore, and foolish would be the man who still thought it the case.

“So… What’s with all the steel?” Magpie asked of the drunken bruiser, unfortunately sharing the same side of the bar. Opposites of the greatest calibre in terms of aesthetic they were, though that could readily be said of anyone in the tavern in comparison to the dapper devil. Kasasagi kept his cool, even if he certainly did not feel it, mostly because of the sleight of hand going on as he pocketed some Belly from the till.

---

Savoie Augustus (ff3800)
Sunshaku Kasasagi (9f4576)

Unknown (88e4c6)
Unknown (e4bf88)
Unknown (e488c7)

[The Love Ballad]

Mag took the cyborg's comment on the chin, clearly the man was over the deluge of nicknames that the smaller redhead had flung at him through their very brief acquaintance. The beaten and bruised brawler's combative nature howled within him to push further, but considering the spreading flames that were slowly engulfing the tavern, and the drunken thugs who were slowly becoming aware of the fact, he decided it was much more pertinent for him to bite his tongue. 

"Mag," He replied, a single word a sufficient enough introduction.

The would-be pirate watched the now extremely threatening hybrid of man and machine step into the fray, the sound akin to that of a kettle all but terrifying Mag as the goliath moved away from the bar. It was ironic, when Augustus had been a nameless stranger the size and power of the man had occurred to Mag only in the abstract, now he was very clearly threatening in the utmost. 

The redhead had allowed himself to be distracted by the sudden and absolute shift in the demeanour of the biggest of the three men who had assembled by the bar, to the point he almost forgot the dapper gentleman he now found himself on the same side with. Mag felt awkward, and extremely underdressed. Where he was bloody, broken and with scars and bent body parts from previous battles, the other man didn't even look as if a single hair was out of place.  Nowhere was that more evident than in the difference in their hair, Mag's rust-coloured mane was coated in blood and liquor, and some of that was dried from days prior. On the contrary, the stranger's hair was neat and a glossy shade of black. Mag was painfully aware of the fact that he was shirtless, and that his hairy physique was on full display, and of course the gentleman drew attention to it.

"Self defence," He grunted, the response one wrote-learnt from years of questioning by marines and troublemakers alike, "you never know who might pull a knife on ye' in a dark alley."

Mag rolled his shoulders as he spoke, airing out the creaks with audible cracks,  his eyes running over  the unfolding situation. The fact that the man with whom he now shared a space with was looting the till was entirely lost on the bruiser, the confused yells and the sound of creaking wood much more intriguing. 

More and more drunks were now halting their drunken fighting, instead evolving into a sort of panicked fighting and lunging, as they crawled at and pulled each other back. The fighting, truth be told, was getting worse, more bloodthirsty as the fear of death began to overtake the minds of the men locked in the bar.  The speed at which the scene was devolving was exponentially increasing, and Mag could feel the fear beginning to take over him as well.

"Uh, do ye', " Mag started before pausing, "sorry, Oi' din' quite catch ye' name. Ye' want to watch me' back? Oi'll watch yer's. Oi figure that followin' the big guy is definitely the best bet to not turnin' into roast."

Mag's muscles were aching, but he forced himself to vault over the bar. Following Augustus into the flames, praying to whatever forces ruled the sea that the cyborg would force a way out of the rapidly burning building.