[Episode] Redbeard Begins! To the Ends of the World!

A Navy brig sails forth, undaunted on the high seas, a steady wind in its sails, the crewmen all idly milling about on and below deck. It’s been a voyage of some weeks, but at last, they would be making port soon. Beyond maintenance, all that remained of them was to do a few more inventory checks, and all these men and women of the Marines would be ready to have a little shore leave.

--Well. That was the original plan, anyways.
It’d been about midway through the voyage back from the Grand Line when they’d come across something peculiar, a stowaway having made himself at home in one of the supply crates. Luckily for them, even a ship meant for transport had a cell of its own, and the odd fellow was unceremoniously hauled inside. They’d leave him for the guys at the base to figure out what to do with; insofar as their captain was concerned, it wasn’t their headache to deal with.

And thus, here were are – and there he is.

Hardly as big as some of the monsters you find on the high seas, but by civilian standards, still a very large man indeed. Six and a half feet high, broad as a doorway, and built in at an odd-several hundred pounds of muscle, marred with a crescent scar over his left pectoral and one nicking the right-end of his jawline, he looked very much the part of a grizzled man of the sea.
That is – until one took a closer inspection.

Besides the scarring, his skin was relatively unmarred, unblemished. A number of callouses told the tale of a lifetime’s physical labor, but beyond that, even with the impressive crescent beard of a hearty red under his chin, it was easy to see how fresh-faced he was. In fact, he hardly seemed very old at all. Thus, so it was, that this unusual fellow was now in a small cell of iron bars in the middle of the hold, sat on a wooden stool, his wrists and ankles bound by iron shackles, seemingly just whittling the time away as the voyage proceeded, occasionally having some stale bread and water chucked in with him.

Yet…he didn’t seem deterred by any of this.
Rather, the whole while…the stranger had this contented little grin on his face.

“So, what’s the deal with that one?” Over by a stack of barrels, two cadets idly chatted with each other. Once more taking notice of their prisoner, one motioned over towards the brig, looking concerned. “Was he caught stealing anything, or—?”

“—Nah, just some bum hitching a ride in one of the supply crates.” His fellow crewman was quick to add, giving a dismissive shrug before breaking off into snickering. “You should’ve seen what this guy was wearing! A captain’s hat and a big coat.” He juts a thumb back to a sack hanging from the wall. “Crammed ‘em in there. Figure he must’ve lifted it off one of the wannabe big-shots who made it to the Archipelago without dying.”

Breaking into a laugh, he meanders over to the makeshift cage, drawing his pistol and clattering it against the bars like a mug for the fun of it.

"Ain’t that right, Mister Pirate? Haha!” He doubles back, hand splayed over his chest. “What was the plan, act like you were some big shot at the Grand Line; hold up an entire ship full of Marines on a bluff to ferry you somewhere, was that the great scheme?”

Without missing a beat, the man in the brig began laughing in turn; a low chuckle, but a strong voice, filling the hold with the odd, distinctive sound of his laughter.

"Yarharharhar... Aye, friend, you're right about one thing." He gives a nonchalant shrug, seemingly hardly bothered by all this. "You've got me pegged. I'm definitely, as we speak, no kind of pirate."

Frederick D. Reis raises his head towards them, a peculiar light shining in the solid blacks of his eyes.

"Yet."

Well, it’d been long –and sure as hell some kind of boring– but at long last, it seemed everything had fallen nicely into place. Reis had been scoping out this ship for days ever since it’d made port, getting a feel for how tough the kind of manpower onboard was, the kind of diligence this lot practiced, habits of the men they left standing watch; everything he’d need in order to sneak onboard without a fuss.
Yet here he was, shackled up and sat on an uncomfortable wooden stool, watching the same wooden paneling around himself for the past days on end, barely given morsels to subside on.

Altogether unpleasant – but also altogether just as planned.

The truth of the matter was, Reis could’ve stayed hidden throughout that entire time. For what his endgame here was, however, for what he meant to accomplish, getting clapped in stocks was entirely necessary. He needed to get their attention, and he needed to be written off as some clumsy stowaway who bumbled his way into trouble. As it stood, he was now both the butt of the joke and general amusement of the entire ship.
As far as they knew, they’d just caught some incompetent shlub.

That was exactly what he needed them to believe. Just for a little while longer…

“Attention, word from the top!”

Reis perked to attention as a new crewman came down the steps, calling out to everyone else below deck.

“Looks like we’ll be making landfall by this time tomorrow, maybe a little later in the day.” He followed up, casting his sight around. “So all of you, get your personal effects together. We’re looking at two days shore leave, then we’re casting back out.”

It was then that another sound came, almost immediately after the crewman had finished speaking. As he turned to leave, a loud, abrupt coughing, very much the type to try and grab one’s attention, caused him to turn back. At the back of the room, Reis was giving the forced coughing, raising a hand as though he were sitting in a class.

“Ah, aye, yes, hello!” He called out, seeing everyone had now given him their focus. “You seem the usual man for this, right? Tell me, is that time counted at full speed, or…?”

“Wh…? N-No, prisoner.” The Marine squinted some, seeming both annoyed by this but engaged enough to answer. “We have full canvas, but the wind’s low. If we had a stronger breeze, we’d be in by next sunrise, easy…”

“Alright, alright, I’m hearin’ you. But say you had something stronger, a stormy wind, something like that?”

“That’s–? Hey, in a storm, we’d be raising canvas, but I suppose in theory we could make landfall before eveni–?” The Marine shook his head, visibly growing agitated. “L-Look, pipe down in there! Don’t forget you’re just going to be transferred to another cell for holding once we land, buddy, so I hope you got the answers you were looking for.”

Reis’s expression shifted, his brow knitting – a devilish grin beginning to creep across his features.

“Oh, aye. Much obliged, mister sailor.” A nod. “I do believe I’ve gotten all I need outta that…”

Was he thinking things were going "according to plan?"
Scratch that.
It seemed things had suddenly gone much better than he’d realized…

As the superior Marine officer headed back up to the deck, Reis leaned back on his stool, closing his eyes, doing his best to focus past the random sounds of the surrounding people and focus on what he could sense around him. The ship wasn’t rocking too heavily, so the waves weren’t turbulent. He couldn’t hear any wind whistling into the hold, so the other guy must’ve been being forthright about the wind conditions. The temperature was a pleasant cool, nothing chilly, nothing too hot. And of course, from above, he could see the sunshine streaming down through the grated hatch.

Alright… If there was ever going to be a time to make his move? This was gonna be it.
Feeling a bubbly excitement well in his chest, Reis’s grin returned, leaning back forward – loudly stomping both feet onto the wooden floor to once more steal the attention of those around him.

It was time for his grand debut.

“Well, lads—” Reis clapped his hands together (as best one can in shackles) sitting up straight with an eager grin and wide, excited eyes, “—you’ve all been some pretty fair hosts! Bread was a little stale, but altogether, I’ve had worse!” He raises a single finger. “Turns out, when you’ve spent your youth scavenging for scraps, quality of food ain’t the first priority you have! Still something you tend to appreciate, though…”

The surrounding Marines were all, for the moment, silent. Dumbfounded, even. They looked at Reis and between themselves, unsure what this bizarre man was getting at. Surely he’d just been told he’d be transferred to holding when they made port; he wasn’t really going anywhere? From the crowd, a large, thickly muscled man with a shaved head and squared jaw came up to the small brig, beaming with mirth at
how ridiculous this seemed.

“Haha! Oi, whaddya think yer getting’ at, pally?” He smacked the side of the bars, showing a cocky smirk. “You’re talking like yer about to go slippin’ outta ‘ere or somethin’, izzit?”

It was here that Reis’s big, face-consuming grin took a devilish turn, a particular shadow and a notable glint coming over his eyes.

“Oh, ‘slipping’ ain’t the word I’d use...”

It began at a low pitch, almost inaudible, but the keen-eared would be able to detect it: a steady hissing noise, beginning to sound about the hull. From closest to the brig, the temperature seemed to rise – and was still climbing. The man who’d approached Reis showed the first signs of discomfort, his expression turning with a perplexed concern, beads of sweat dotting his brow.

“Oi… Whuzz—?” The large Marine tugged at his neckline, wiping at his forehead with the side of his hand. “Izzit feeling like a sauna in here t’anybody else…?”

A white mist began to rise within the hold–
–all emanating from that small, singular cage towards the back of the ship.

Above deck, the captain of this Marine vessel, a tall and rather wiry man adorned in hat and coat, lantern-jawed with a small patch of blonde hair at his chin and a matching pompadour puff elevating his bicorn, found himself standing at the ship’s bow, leaning on the paneling, idly watching the rolling waves, far as the eye could see. No, still no sign of land…and to be frank, the sight of shore couldn’t come soon enough. Even when sailing in well-proven channels for transport to and fro across the Blues, travelling the Grand Line was still travelling the Grand Line. For the sake of his subordinates, he had to put on a confident façade, tell them the danger was exaggerated, keep this ship full of grunts blissfully unaware of the absurd degree of threats they would come across in the event they went off the path – anything to keep them doing their jobs without a word of complaint. They can’t whine about dangerous circumstances if they don’t know they exist, after all.

For god’s sake, though, to actually choose to sail the Grand Line, let alone dare to even cross the Red Line into those intolerable waters; what kind of suicidal idiot did one have to be to willingly undertake such a venture?

Far easier to enjoy this position on the World Government totem pole – high enough to enjoy a generous salary, low enough that you don’t get called on to deal with serious threats…least of all, those freaks of nature that throw themselves at the other side of the world, especially those monsters that found a Devil F—

“Captain Hans!”

The official, now identified as Hans, turned with a heavy sigh, hearing a smaller Marine come traipsing up deck in some sort of hoopla, stumbling over his own two feet, out of breath…and strangely drenched in his own perspiration; what?

“…Good lord, man, what the devil have you been doing all day, sunning back on the stern?” The captain shook his head incredulously at the sight. “Listen, just go change out and hydrate. I’m in a fair enough mood given the circumstances, so I’m willing to overlook a little slacking.”

“N- No, sir! I wasn’t slacking at all, I swear!” The fresher-faced sailor babbled to his superior. “This wasn’t me! It’s from below deck; something’s gone screwy with the prisoner!”

The prisoner? …That excessively large man with the equally-excessive shovel of a beard lining his jaw? The captain’s face turned at this. Oh, for the love of— Look, bad enough the colorful character had to choose his ship to bum a ride on; now what was the issue? Surely, he could just…play this off until they dumped him off with the guys at the base, right?

“Wondrous. Come on, man, out with it, what’s the issue?” Hans half-snapped, clearly wanting nothing to do with this situation. “We’ve got the loon in stocks and bars, he’ll last there until next daybreak and then he won’t be our problem, anymore.”

The subordinate Marine was wringing his hands anxiously… The captain felt a pit of dread begin to build in his stomach. He’d been around long enough to recognize this kind of anxiety – whatever this was, it put a scare into this kid.

“Th- There’s no time, sir! Please, come quickly!” The younger man pleaded, face blanched. “The prisoner… I-I think he’s an ability u—!”

The subordinate didn’t get the chance to finish his warning. From somewhere below, a sudden rumbling rocked the ship, nearly bowling over the men on the deck, building to a crescendo—

—and then, a towering pillar of superheated vapor erupted through the grated hatch, blowing it to pieces as it reached onward past the mast and into the sky.

Several minutes ago, back below the deck…

“Aaaagh… Wh… Where’d--? Where’d all this heat suddenly come from...?”

The inside of the hold was beginning to turn unreasonably humid, more and more of the small gathering of sailors amongst the cargo beginning to turn this way and that, trying to identify the source.

“God’s sake, I don’t get it!” A quickly-beleaguered man growled out, tugging at his shirt in a futile attempt to give himself some relief. “Are we on some kinda boiling sea; what the hell’s going on?!”

It was then that the irritable man noticed something in particular—a trail of vapor eking out into the ship, low to the ground. In fact, as his eyes followed it back, there were multiple. A multitude of trails of steam being vented out, visible to the naked eye, and they were all emanating from a singular spot, causing the rising humidity amongst their number.

That spot in question…was where their prisoner was sitting.
All the while, he was still wearing that damnable big grin on his face.

The Marine abruptly stomps over to the brig, loudly smacking at the bars, gritting his teeth with a vein popping at his forehead.

“Hey!! Prisoner!” He snapped, gripping the bars. “You’ve snuck something on your person, haven’t you? Cut this crap out right now and fork it over!”

Reis’s grin closed into a calm smirk, eyebrows raised at the frustrated guy currently trying to give him grief. Sheesh, somebody had been at sea for too long, hadn’t he?

“I assure you, officer, I ain’t got the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Kachak.
No sooner did Reis give his flippant reply did he find the barrel of a pistol leveled at his head between the bars. Either from the confidence he was showing in pointing the finger at Reis and inciting mob mentality, or that he’d managed to attract their attention to the venting steam into the hold, whatever the case may be, the angry Marine had gotten his fellow crewmen to begin forming up around him, all eyes trained on Reis. Some had a similar demeanor, some looked more uncomfortable, but the message was pretty clear: if Reis got shot right now, none of them were gonna cause a fuss over it.

"I'm not. Saying it. Again."

Reis's thus-far-perpetual smile finally faltered into a firm line at this, raising an altogether-unimpressed eyebrow. What was the saying; the weakest dogs bark loudest...?

“Haah, sheesh… I’m telling you, I ain’t pocketed a thing.” Reis speaks with a heavy sigh at the display in front of him, standing from his stool. He shakes his legs out, then his arms, showing there was nothing up his pant legs or sleeves. “You see? Nothing but the clothes on my back!”

“Oi, oi, don’t go playing dumb!” One of the Marines off to the side barks, waving a fist. “All this is clearly coming from in there! Come on, out with it!”

The smirk begins to slowly creep back onto Reis’s face.

“Ohhh, this is about the heat, innit? Yarharhar!” Reis doubles back with a hearty laugh, the sudden volume causing a few of the nearer ones to jump back. “Ah, sorry for the inconvenience, lads--”

What comes next is to abrupt for any of the surrounding number to attempt to intervene -- a full-on devilish grin breaks out across Reis’s face, his stance spreading, before an enormous gout of steam begins billowing out from his body, shooting between the bars, buffeting the innermost circle of surrounding Marines, some almost falling backwards from the enormous pressure – the man who’d accosted him first finding his arm blown back, pistol flinging away and clattering to the floor. Keeping his gaze fixed on that very man, Reis stood to full size, his broad physique and superior height casting a looming shadow from behind the bars, making a show of raising his cuffed wrists, his body having taken on a reddened hue.

“--I were just warming myself up.”

A deafening snap! Sounds throughout the hold as Reis’s arms shoot apart with another burst of steam, his shackles exploding off his wrists. The Marine nearest to him took an uneasy step back, and then another, his face going a ghastly white as he realized what was standing in front of him.

“Ohhh, bugger me—OI!” He whips his head around, nervously glancing back repeatedly. “Get the captain! GET THE CAPTAIN! We got a damn ability user on the ship--!”

No further words were able to be voiced as Reis raised a leg high, the bottom of his boot aimed towards the front gate of his tiny cell. The Marine at the door gave a panicked yelp, flinging himself towards the ground, no sooner than did another thunderous sound signal another burst of pressurized movement, the raised leg shooting towards the barred gate and, with a piercing ringing, launched it clear off its hinges across the hold—the metal frame sounding off a splintering crack as it roughly embedded itself in the wooden interior.

As the brig’s gated door smashed into the far side of the hull, one scrawnier of the Marines scrambled away from the group, frantically flailing and fumbling his way up the steps to the deck. Whether or not this had escaped Reis’s notice was of little concern; he wanted everyone aboard to be aware. In fact, this wouldn’t have the same impact as he was hoping for were it any other way!

As the continuing gales of steam billowing throughout the hold from the single man buffeted the Marines surrounding him, many of whom were shielding their eyes or hanging onto their hats, a number of them showed more agitation than alarm, beginning to take action.

“Damnit, what’re you all standing around for?!” One man yelled, quickly reaching for the rifle at his back. “Blast this freak full of holes, now!”

“Wait!!” A woman beside him quickly swatted at his arms, barely daring to look away from their quarry. “Some of these monsters don’t give a damn about guns, or can even use that against you!”

“Crying out loud, there’s like twenty of us down here!” Another to the opposite side of them snapped, rolling up his sleeves as he began to advance towards the center. “Just dog pile him, already!”

Ah. As simple-minded as it sounded, that— that actually was the best move they could make in this instance, as Reis noticed internally; well-played, random guy. If they all flung themselves on top of him, he’d have to start throwing fists to get out of that body pile-up. Strange as it might’ve seemed were he to try and explain himself to anyone, Reis actually had no interest in laying these guys out. That wasn’t how he wanted to make his pirating premiere…

—D’ah, beans, looks like he’d hesitated too long. Some of them had taken notice. As that one guy was beginning to approach the busted brig, several others were beginning to join him, looks of growing confidence on their faces; it wouldn’t be long until the mob formed a solid wall he would have to bash his way through. Looks like it was time to get this show officially on the road—!

A radial burst of steam shot throughout the room from where Reis once was, a large blur shooting through a break in the crowding Marines, the swept-up gale nearly bowling a few over. Those with a keener eye quickly whirled about, just in time to see the man encaged just moments ago now braced against the far wall of the hold, crouched against it in a three-point stance…before another burst of steam saw him vanish from that spot. A series of one, two, three booming thuds resounded through the hull as the pirate-apparent ping-ponged off the floor, ceiling and walls clear back to the opposite end, the bag hanging from the wall that had been holding his coat and hat being torn to confetti in an instant.

The cacophony of sound and impact came to a halt on the opposite side of the gathered crewmen, Reis now standing beneath the grated hatch to the deck. Facing away from them, he tossed the heavy crimson coat back onto his shoulders, reaffixing his bicorne hat over his bandana-covered head with a little spinning flourish. Whirling on his heels, the reequipped Reis spread his arms wide, grinning ear to ear with another bout of bellowing laughter.

“Yarharhar! Whaddya think, lads? Cleans up nicely, doesn’t he?”

For a moment or two, the crowd was taken aback—not a one of them had been prepared to deal with a Devil Fruit eater on this voyage, let alone one who’d just displayed a kind of performance like that had been. Seeing their apprehension, Reis closed his eyes, sighing with a small shrug.

“Sheesh, you put on a show for 'em, and this the kinda reception you get…” He raised one arm higher, balling a tight fist that began to pour out trails of steam. He reopened his eyes, a dangerous glint passing over them. “Guess I’ll just try topside.”

No sooner did he voice the clear implication than did the sailors before him throw themselves at him en-masse.

“GET HIM!”

“GEYSER!”

Reis’ fist crashed down into the floorboards, a wide circle glowing red with heat instantly expanding below him – before a gigantic pillar of concentrated vapor erupted upwards clear through the grate above, the crew below deck all scattered to the wayside.

Back to the current moment…

Hans found himself fumbling back against the railing of the ship, the younger Marine who’d just arrived to warn him diving for cover as a pillar of pressurized vapor blew a hole into the deck from somewhere below, reaching up high above, not plateauing until it’d well-passed the point of the crow’s nest on the main mast.

However, it was then that he took a step forward despite the intensity of the inexplicable phenomenon. He squinted, leaning forward, focusing his eyes high above. There was…some kind of shadow within the steam, riding the flow to the top—?  

It was upon his realizing this that the column of a geyser detonated from within, the concentrated steam bursting apart in a radial detonation that went a small ways beyond the ship, the figure contained within grabbing ahold of the top of the mast, swinging around down until he landed in the crow’s nest. Beaming with confidence, Reis gripped the mast and took a step onto the edge, revealing himself to the swaths of Marines down below, captain included.

“Morning to you, lads!” Reis called from on high, giving a faux salute. “Sorry about the damages, I’d give you beli to cover the bill, but all I’ve got is my rainy-day funds, I’m afraid!”

Tch… Great. Hans couldn’t keep the slightest scowl from coming to his face; so, the vagrant-looking stowaway had something like this up his sleeve the entire time… But it made no sense, why not fight back when they’d first captured him? And if he could break loose this easily, why not make an attempt sooner than this?

…Wait. Haha, ohhh, that had to be it.
As the Marines on deck began to recover from their alarm and form on the main mast, all drawing their rifles, their captain motioned for them to hold their fire, advancing forward.

“Well, now. Seems you think you’re clever, don’t you, stowaway?” Hans called back up to Reis, the slightest smirk now over his features as he folded his arms over his chest. “Waiting until you overheard that we might be close to shore? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re still a good day out from making port, so it looks like you’ve misjudged.”

From on high, Reis chuckled, shaking his head.

“Ah, but see, I actually ain’t misjudged a thing.” He raised a finger in accentuation of his point. “In fact, I was worried I wouldn’t hear nothing about this until we were closer! This timing couldn’t be better!”

Watching the seemingly-ignorant mirth on display above, Hans’s face fell with unamusement, arms falling limply to his sides. Really? Was this the kind of idiot he had to put up with, right now?

“You might want to adjust that ridiculous hat, because you clearly didn’t hear me properly.” An incredulous head shake of his own, before he tossed up his hands, annoyed. “I just said the nearest land is still leagues off, and we all know your kind can’t swim. You’ve nowhere to run to, you blustering oaf; you’ve made a racket for nothing!”

Stepping wholly onto the edge of the crow’s nest, Reis began walking in a steady pace along the circumference, training his eyes on the large amount of armed sailors below, all primed to open fire on him at a moment’s notice.

“One captain to another, friend, you’d do well keeping an open mind! After all…” Reis’s eyes trained themselves on one of the smaller boats off to the starboard side of the ship. “…you never can tell when you ain’t considered all the angles…”

“...'Captain'. You.” The Marine captain was of a full-on deadpan expression at this moment. Giving a harsh sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “You know what, I’ve heard about enough of this. The brass won’t lose sleep over an ability user lost at sea; men!”

A loud series of clicks resounded from the deck as all the crewman consecutively cocked their firearms, training their aim.

“Open fire!”

The ship became a roar of gunfire as over two dozen rifles proceeded to unload on the crow’s nest, a ruckus of splinting and shattering wood sounding amidst a growing cloud overhead as the top of the mast was reduced to buckshot-riddled slag.

“Alright, hold! Cease!” Hans bellowed, waving an arm out. “God’s sake, let it settle!”

One by one, the sailors on the deck lowered their rifles, all keeping their eyes trained on the haze of destruction overhead that gradually began to dissipate with the sea’s gentle breeze. When all settled, the crow’s nest had been reduced to a mangled, fragmented mess no shipwright would want to deal with – but there was neither hide nor hair of their target, not even any tell-tale scraps of clothing upon the broken splinters.

“Captain! We got ‘im!” One man cheered, bouncing on his heels eagerly. “Ain’t nothin’ lef—”

The Marine who’d chosen to speak up in the moment found himself cut off with a yelp of alarm, getting a rather forceful slap upside the back of the head for his input from his superior in question.

“Don’t be idiots, there’d still be hole-riddled remains! Would’ve fallen to the deck, at least—!” Hans snapped, now casting his eyes around the deck fervently for any sign of their former captive. “The blazes did he go…?!”

A sharp whistle sounded from somewhere behind, causing all eyes to snap in the direction of the captain’s cabin – which, now dawning on them, had its door smashed open under the cover of the deafening firing moments ago. Obviously, the perpetrator had flung himself to the far end of the ship once the destruction started giving adequate cover to maneuver… At first, not one among them could make out what on earth could be going on inside…then, from nowhere, another cue of venting steam sounded from the shadows, before a large wooden rum casket came launching out from the forced-open entryway, sailing towards the gathered men.

“Ah—!” One panicked, raising his gun on instinct and unloading, causing the casket to burst apart, showering he and all those adjacent to him in a shower of the strong drink. The number caught in the splash zone recoiled, flinching, doubling back, shutting their eyes or just being aghast as what this had just done to their good uniform. Before they had a chance to regroup, another came sailing out, then another, a sequence of caskets launched as if by catapult at random angles towards various spots in the Marines’ formation.

“Buh— But...? My good— drink—” The captain’s eye twitched violently at this display. His fine rum, thousands of berries invested, being used as some childrens’ prank. His crew all tripping over themselves being given the runaround by some squat oaf with delusions of grandeur. He was being made a fool of. Ability user or not, this nonsense had gone well beyond the threshold of all patience. “I’ve had enough of this!”

Throwing off his coat, Hans drew from his back a much larger, dangerous-looking weapon than the standard-issue flintlock rifles his crewmen were carrying. A heavy, cylindrical steel barrel was ushered out into the open -- this man had been packing a bazooka at his scrawny back, hidden beneath his coat. Resting the butt of the cannon against his shoulder and taking careful aim into the center of the doorway, Hans's lips curled up in a toothy snarl, an eye wincing shut.

“Let’s see how clever you are after this!”

A much louder firing akin to a thunderclap roared from the gun as the captain fired straight into his quarters, the incendiary components of the round he’d just fired causing a near-immediate explosion, planks of wood and scraps of furnishing spraying out of the doorway amidst a building, intense fire. Shoulder his rife, Hans spat at the floorboards, turning his nose up at the destruction of his cabin.

“Good riddance.”

Yet, the man had spoken too soon.
Amidst the crackling flames and wafting embers, as several crewmen rushed to fetch water buckets to put it out, the roof of the cabin exploding outward heralding a familiar figure shooting up out of the ship, high over the masts, into the air overhead.

The crewmen nearest to the cabin doubled back at the sudden emergence, their eyes following the figure of Reis shooting upwards until he was a distant shape above the mast. Hans narrowed his eyes, peering as he readied his bazooka for another shot.

“The devil does he think he’s…?”

Then, from above, a loud shout back down to the deck.

“CANNON!”

A loud booming was the only further warning before a torrent of steam blasted back down into the deck directly into the centermost of the congregation, hurling bodies wholly away, flinging the unfortunate number caught dead-on well around the ship, putting a deep dent in the floorboards near enough to cave in that portion of the floor outright. Hans had managed to jump back, rolling along the deck with his cannon held close, scrambling back to his feet when he’d come to a stop.

“Blasted—!” Hans sounded off a furious growl, vein in his neck bulging out as he raised his bazooka again, taking aim at the skies. “Drop dead already, you ridiculous bastard!”

A pull of the trigger, and another round went screeching up into the skies above on a collision-course for the man above – yet, a well-timed propulsion burst sent Reis barrel-rolling through the air to the side, allowing the rocket to keep on going, higher and higher still, harmlessly detonating well past him, filling the air with a red-orange explosion. Reis’s eyes scanned the area below, seemingly searching out something…then, locking onto a specific point, he tensed his body up, rearing back.

“HAMMER!”

And then, like a tremendous cannonball, Reis came rocketing back down, leaving an expanding radial burst of steam in the air overhead. However, Reis didn’t come crashing down onto the deck. In fact, he didn’t come back down on the ship at all.

Instead, the point of impact…was one of the dinghies hanging off the side of the ship.

There was a sound of metal violently snapping, and a frantic creaking as the rope holding it up entirely gave way, the small boat quickly falling, sounding its impact with the sea with a loud splash that sent spray high up back onto the deck. Dumbfounded, Hans came over to the side of the ship, shouldering his cannon – most of his crewmen all coming up to the side of the ship alongside him. There, in the water was Reis, bundling up the leftover rope with that big grin plastered on his face, looking back up towards them with a little salute. The stranger thing still is that, sitting there beside him in the dinghy, was one of Hans’ caskets.

Realizing something, Hans looked over towards the wall of the cabin facing this way. There was a hole blown clear through the side, about the size of the impact Reis had just made in the deck. The metal pulley once anchoring the dinghy was broken clear in half, but he could see from what was left of the frame that a deep dent had been blown into the metal.

The wannabe-pirate had seen the angle from above, and used the cover of the cabin to blast a hole through to the starboard side of the ship – and thrown a barrel of drink out to the boat for good measure.

Sputtering an incredulous chuckle, Hans shook his head.

“So that’s what that nonsense in my quarters was for? So we wouldn’t notice you doing that?”

“Eeeeyep, yep yep.” Came a loud call back from below, Reis continuing to make preparations without a care in the world, beginning to raise the dinghy’s sail. “Couldn’t have you catch on and go sabotaging my boat. The drink were a pleasant surprise in there! Not gonna lie, would’ve preferred takin’ one or two more of them barrels with me, but you do what you got to in these trying times.”

The Marine captain’s face entirely fell in that moment. The anger simply melted away, now replaced by a slack, slightly-amused exhaustion.

“Hahahaha… All that. For— For this.” He motioned back to the scene down below. “You can’t even—? You can’t even go anywhere. Nothing’s changed.”

“Thaaat's gonna be a hard nope.” Reis called back up, carefully angling the sail now, using the rope he’d gotten to affix the casket down to the boat. “I’ve already gotten away. I’ll be seein’ you lads some other time, maybe?”

The bodies above just continued watching him mill about, all with blank stares. He had to realize the obvious, right? Any ship could catch up to a dinghy. A rowboat could catch up to a dinghy, if the right men were aboard it. They could give him several hours of a head-start and catch him again in less than one; this was the most ill-advised plan any of them had ever beheld. As far as the Captain’s part, however, the flickers of inspiration were visibly working in his mind as he eyed the lone man below with a malicious smirk.

“So, fancy yourself a pirate, huh? Alright, then...” Hans folded his arms over his chest. “What’s your name, pirate?”

“That’d be Reis, mate – Frederick D. Reis!” Reis holds onto the dinghy’s mast with one hand, pointing up towards the overlooking Marines with a high fervor. “But if you’d please, call me Redbeard. You’d best be remembering that name, because one day soon it’s gonna be flying in papers the world over!”  

“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second. See, here’s what we’re going to do.” Hans leaned over the railing, leering down at Reis. “We’re going to blast that craft to bits and let you near-down on the waters. Then, we’re going to haul you somewhere secure, but not hand you in yet. I’ll be reporting the several hundred thousand in damages you’ve cost me, and see what a nice little bounty that nets you. I’m sure that’ll get your name in papers.” He claps his heads together. “Then I’ll haul you in and collect whatever you’re worth, along with my reimbursements. So congratulations, ‘Captain Redbeard’, you’re going to be a nice little bonus for whaaaaat are you doing.”

On the dinghy, Reis had a leg up on the seat, one arm raised forward as though aiming a sight, his other arm now doing something peculiar – spinning in a full 360 rotation at the shoulder as though the physical limitations of such were only a suggestion, rotating faster and faster still, a trail of steam beginning to follow the path of his fist.

“Ain’t it obvious?” Reis answered back, not taking his eyes of the sail slightly above him. “I’m gettin’ ready to ship out!”

“Yes, stunning, you can dislocate your shoulder for a party trick. Exactly how does that help you, again?”

“Oh, mate…” Reis glanced up at him over his shoulder, the single most devilish turn his grin had taken all morning now lain bare. “You ain’t noticed what my power is, yet?”

The cogs in Hans’s head turned furiously, his expression turning with frustration as he tried to understand just what was happening. Yes, he knew what this idiot’s power was; it was obvious he could project steam, but what exactly did that have to do with—
His face fell, blanching white.

“…Fire.”

“Captain?”

“Fire, F-FIRE! Fire fire fire fire—” Hans scrambled to grab his bazooka, levelling it over the edge of the ship. “—FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE--!!!”

“Joki no—” Reis stopped his arm in place, rearing it back in a wide arc, “—CANNON!”

Another cannon gale of steam exploded against the sail, instantly expanding it nearly to the point of being torn open, the fallout of the discharge blowing back and buffeting the railing of the ship, in particular blowing back the barrel of Hans’s bazooka, causing his near-immediate fire to go sailing off into the distance. The force actually lifted the dinghy up off the water’s surface, launching off away from the Marine ship in seconds. Picking himself up, Hans regathered his gun, taking aim again at the tiny sailboat now flying away just over the water’s surface.

“FIRE! I WANT THAT DINGHY SUNK!” A roar of rife fire sounded from behind as all the crew at the ship’s edge began unloading towards the tiny ship, their captain himself recklessly unloading rocket after rocket after their fled prisoner over the waves—but to no avail. They could only hit the water as Reis, and his dinghy, sped away at a pace no wind was going to give them. “DAMN IT ALL—!!”

By the time he could hear Hans bellowing in frustration, he was already half a league out and counting.

---

Sighing, Reis laid back upon his tiny craft, staring up into the skies above. It’d been a good half-hour and change since he’d made off from the Marine ship, and there was no land in sight yet… Unfortunate, but understandable. He glanced over the side of the boat into the water; well, it shouldn’t be hard to fetch dinner if the trip took too long. That was an upside of this power of his, he could roast a fish on the spot if need be, and this barrel of good rum ought to last him a solid while yet…

Ah, speaking of! He ought to drink to the occasion! Grabbing the cask, the large man raised it up over his face.

“Here’s to the pirate life!” He hit the nozzle, letting the rum flow and chugging a good pitcher’s worth of drink before stopping it shut again. “Aaaaahhhh…”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his arm, Reis turned as he lay back, looking over the endless sea.

“…Ain’t no going back now. I’ve really gone and done it, haven’t I...?” He mused quietly, looking longingly towards the horizon as though it would answer him back. “Yarhar… Getting a bit of the pre-voyage jitters, I guess!”

With a grunt, he flung himself up, standing on the seat of the dinghy, grasping the mast and facing the sea. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep, prolonged breath—
—and then, bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Are you watching, old man?!” Reis yelled out to the heavens above, pumping a fist into the air. “This is where at all begins for your boy! They couldn’t erase the Frederick name! And god and devil as my witness, it’s a name that’s gonna shake this world!”

Reis cocked an arm back, building up pressure as he readied to hit the sail with another burst.

“I’ll be making it to the ends of the world… I’ll find Laugh Tale—”

With A triumphant roar, he threw his fist forward, unloading another immense jet of steam.

“—AND I WILL BE KING!”

The dinghy once more rocketed off the surface of the water, flying off into the endless horizon – as the adventure of the pirate Redbeard now officially began.