[Abandoned] [Open] What are the odds?

Alice B. Ronx found himself pressed uncomfortably by the crowd into a wall. His goal was to get on the next train headed back to Water 7, given that it should be around about this time his crew had finally realised he’d left the island. Abandoning them at Water 7 had seemed like a bright idea when he’d boarded the Sea Train for St. Poplar earlier in the morning, but he quickly started having second thoughts. Originally, his intentions were to visit an old amusement from his childhood: the St. Poplar marine base. It hasn’t exactly occurred to him that a over a decade earlier, the marines could make allowances for the mischiefs of children and puffed their chests in pride when their admiring, bright eyes watched the marines’ every move with rever.

The other thing Ronx had somehow managed to overlook was that he now just so happened to be a wanted criminal; an enemy of the law-abiding officers, if one were to be so inclined to put it. However, one couldn’t entirely blame the young revolutionary for forgetting his position every so often, especially since everyone around him tended to forget too. This was on account of his wanted poster being so ridiculous a depiction of him and all the poster ever really served to do was provide a good laugh for himself and those he wished to entertain. So how was he supposed to predict the marines to start chasing him the minute he stepped foot through those doors?

Ronx was incredibly miffed that his marine base tour had been cut off so short, especially given he had only done so in remembrance of his diseased sister, whose dream had been to become a marine at St. Poplar. It had been so long since his last visit to his hometown in Water 7, that such a visit to St. Poplar should only have been expected from the young man. However, he hadn’t been completely out of luck. When he ducked back into the station, Ronx found himself swept in a stampede by another group of marines. Their intent was on another criminal who conveniently wasn’t Ronx, which made it all the easier to lose his own pursuers.

Now, pressed up against a wall with other patrons of the station, Ronx tried to turn away and wriggle free and make for the train waiting on the platform. He wasn’t exactly sure if it was headed for Water 7, but how could he possibly go wrong? Besides, getting on a random train had to be enormously more ideal than the uncomfortable position he was currently in and he had just managed to pull free when a rigid hand clamped over his shoulder. He immediately squealed in surprise and the hand whirled him around to face a marine.

“Evening, sir!” he yelped, straightening and saluting stiffly.

The marine shot him an incredulous look. “At ease,” he commanded, mostly to amuse the young man before holding up a withered brown paper in front of his face. “Have you seen this woman?”

Ronx glanced over the poster, but a voice called from behind him, interrupting him before he could say anything.

“She’s over there!”

The poster was immediately snatched away and the marine abruptly abandoned his questioning with Ronx, his mouth still agape mid-mention of how a woman strikingly similar to the photograph was just several paces away from where he stood. She ducked hastily behind a pillar as a couple marines ran past chasing her phantom. Curious, Ronx slipped through the crowd and found himself crouching behind her. She had his back to him, peeking cautiously around the pillar which provided her cover and from where Ronx crouched, he witnessed an amusing enough scene of two dubious characters, both watching the searching marines from either ends of the pillar. What was more amusing was that they didn’t appear to notice one another.

The female pirate aside, her fellow fugitive was a shifty creature despite his smart dress, and though Ronx knew the man wasn’t the subject of the search, the fact that he clearly seemed to believe he had reason to be arrested made him appear all the more suspicious than the actual pirate in question. Ronx had an inkling he had seen the man before, but failing to recall the exact events or details, he simply pushed the thought away. Instead, he was far more interested to be a part of the fun the two were so clearly involved in.

“Hey, aren’t you the one on the wanted poster?” he asked lightheartedly.

Whether it was on purpose or not that he failed to mention who exactly it was on the poster—the female pirate or the shady businessman, possibly a pirate himself—he certainly received an amusing enough response from the former and the latter would be determined sooner or later. At the sound of his voice, she immediately whirled around, her jaw dropped in a soundless cry and her clear emerald eyes bulging at him. At the same time, she shuffled away as though to distance herself from the blonde man, only to slam the back of her head into the pillar and she finished the performance clutching her head, her body twitching with pain. This only prompted a burst of lively laughter from the young revolutionary.

Yes, this was exactly what he was looking for and with that thought, he completely forgot about the crew he had left on Water 7. The crew currently searching frantically all over the city for their irresponsible captain without quite realising he was on a completely different island altogether.

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Ronx watched with great interest at the series of mime movements from the shady businessman. The more he looked at him, the more he thought about how he must have seen him somewhere. But for the time being, the thin man’s performance was far too entertaining to be thinking about secondary thoughts and though the young revolutionary extracted the message clearly enough, he still couldn’t help giggling into his palms. As one could imagine, it was hard for three characters, one as dubious-looking as the next, to remain unnoticed for long when they gathered so conspicuously. This was largely the fault of the fancy-dressed man who had barged in on the other two’s apparent efforts to remain at a low-profile and when an authoritative voice sounded from behind him, the two pirates before him immediately scuffled into hiding. The only problem was that the space they had to work with was incredibly limited and when the businessman shuffled into the female pirate, the two came to a surprising, if not unwelcoming, first impression.

“Watch it!” she spluttered, while simultaneously attempting to secure her own escape.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” shouted the marine and Ronx jumped in surprise when a hand clamped over his shoulder. Again.

He spun awkwardly on heels, only to topple backwards onto the two pirate behind him. The female pirate immediately took advantage of the situation and ducked her head under his mantle to hide herself. Not exactly the most elegant of hiding spots, but she had seemed to realise that she was still safe. For the moment.

“You’re talking to me?” asked Ronx incredulously.

The marine opened his mouth, before pausing and narrowing his eyes as though to examine the revolutionary commander’s face. “No, it can’t be…” he muttered, before shifting his eyes to the shady businessman behind him. “Wait, you too…?” This marine’s eyes were beyond ordinary to identify not one, but two criminals with obscure and unreliable wanted posters and by the looks of the gears turning in his head, he was close to a hefty promotion if he managed to catch all three criminals in one fell swoop. Fancy skill as it was, his mistake was to take far too long snatching so fleeting an opportunity. “What’s your name?” he barked suspiciously.

“My name?” echoed Ronx brightly. “I’m Alice B. Ronx! Nice to meet you!”

Wrong answer. Not moments before the words left his mouth, two things happened. First, the marine’s eyes widened with disbelief and recognition, and he reached for the pistol resting in the holster at his hip. Second, the female pirate hiding under his mantle gasped and dragged herself out.

“Ronx?!” she exclaimed, all but falling over his shoulders in an attempt to obtain a better view of his face. “It’s really you!”

With chaos ensuing front, back and centre, Ronx had trouble deciding how to best allocate his attention, but when the woman jerked his neck to a precarious angle to face her, he had little choice in the matter. “Pardon me, but do I know you?” he asked cordially, despite the aching of his neck.

“No!” she all but screamed at him in her excitement and she shot to her feet, jerking Ronx’s neck even further and forcing him up with her. Something clicked in her mind and released his face, spinning around to the other pirate who had shuffled into her. “And you!” she pointed boldly down at him. “I can’t believe how lucky I am!”

“Hold it! All three of you need to put your hands behind your heads,” came the marine officer’s voice, who now had his pistol firmly raised and pointed at their dysfunctional group.

“Oh, go bother someone else. I’m trying to make a good impression here!” scoffed the woman, flicking her hand dismissively at him. Her words compelled a delighted laugh from the revolutionary commander, a response which the female pirate seemed to receive with great pride.

“I won’t ask a second time!”

“Ah, what should we do?” asked Ronx between chuckles. “This seems like a lot of fun now.”

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“Hold it!” came the panicked cry from the duped marine, clearly regretting his oversight of such a simple trick. By now, his colleagues had seemed to have caught onto their small commotion and the sound a stampede of marines filled the area, coming to a halt once they had uniformingly surrounded the criminal.

“He...is he trying to be a decoy for us?” asked the female pirate, her eyes glistening with admiration. “Quick, Mr. Ronx, we can’t allow Mr. Maxwell’s sacrifice to come to no use!”

“That was his plan all along?” gasped Ronx with realisation and seemed ready to salute the businessman. Perhaps these marines had rubbed off on him a little too much. “I’m so sorry for thinking he seemed suspicious!”

With a new and reformed outlook of the thin man, who was now completely encircled by several marines like the prey of sharks, Ronx and the female pirate were left virtually unattended and they started to tiptoe around them. Unfortunately, if an escape could have been so easy a thing, they wouldn’t have found themselves in such a position to begin with and soon, each were looking straight into the barrel of a gun.

“Hands behind heads?” asked Ronx, a little miffed with his childish pout, as though he had been caught with his hands sticky and still reaching into the candy jar.

The marines nodded hesitantly, perhaps a little uneasy with his non-confrontational attitude, maybe suspecting the young revolutionary to have some scheme brewing under his mass of spiky, blonde hair. Anyone who knew Ronx half as well as they would have liked to would know that this was hardly the case, but even the female pirate beside him seemed to believe the same idea the marines did. Perhaps this was why the woman seemed so confident as the marines herded the three criminals together into one group again, her hands planted casually over her ginger curls.

“Apologies to let your sacrifice go to waste,” whispered Ronx to the older man, his demeanour not so dissimilar to that of a dejected pup. “I promise to make it up to you later.”

His words only seemed to excite the only female of their group. “So you do have a plan to get us out of this after all?” she hissed excitedly, which only prompted a marine to bark at her, a warning to hold her tongue.

He certainly didn’t have such a plan, but the woman’s glittering eyes seemed to ignite a flame and Ronx was in no hurry to correct her misunderstanding. “We’ll have to see!” he told her with a hint of mystery and the delight in her eyes only made his desire to show off all the more prominent.

Sure, his second companion (whom he had already decided in his head to be a comrade) may have been less enthusiastic, but his inflated ego hardly minded at this point and anymore encouragement might only prove to worsen the situation. And to clarify, not much good could possibly come out of a fickle, flamboyant, fun-loving young man when he was in the mood for some flaunting. Especially when he was in a situation where discretion was often the more preferable option.

Silver cuffs flashed out and three marines approached the group warily, reaching for their wrists.

“Oh hell no!” snarled the female pirate. “You’re not putting those on me!” She lashed out at the closest flustered marine who held her cuffs and then all hell broke loose.

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The female pirate was all but ready to swoon at her senior’s performance and she might actually have passed out from sheer deliria when he offered her to proceed first if it hadn’t been for the incredibly rude marine who had managed to come up from behind the two pirates and thought it proper to ruin the moment. A cold barrel pressed between her two shoulder blades quickly shook her from her fangirl moment.

Unfortunately for the marine, this pirate was currently jacked up on a whole lot of emotions and the moment she sensed danger, instead of freezing like most would, her reflexes took over lightning fast and she swept her leg up and behind her. In a crescent moon arch, her leg cut down the marine behind her so swiftly he had yet to even grasp the situation, let alone think of countering. The attack came down on him as heavy as an axe, leaving onlookers—marine and revolutionary alike—briefly speechless.

“Incredible,” gaped Ronx, completely taken aback from such an unexpectedly skilled martial arts move from the woman who had been close to fainting mere seconds ago. Unfortunately, things were never really quite over.

“Watch out!” she shouted, spinning around to both men. She flung her arms around their necks, dragging them to the ground and squeezing her eyes shut, as though to shield them with her small body. But it was too late. The sound of bullets firing rang through the station and the woman winced.

[Icio Pulse]

Reaching around the woman’s body, Ronx sent three waves of darts flying at the marines. The first wave disturbed the course of the bullets, setting off tiny explosions all around the three criminals, while the marines fell to the full force of the final two waves.

When the expected pain never came, the woman tentatively peeled open her eyes before gasping with surprise at the scene around her. Many of the marines who had felt the brunt of the darts had collapsed to the ground along with those who had fallen to the chemical attack from earlier, still having not recovered.

“Wha-” gasped the female pirate, staring around at the fallen ranks.

“Time to leave, don’t you think?” suggested Ronx with a childish giggle. He stood, dragging both pirates together with him before ushering them both past their now fallen enemies.

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Ronx squeezed through the crowd, taking the rear after the two pirates. It wasn’t difficult maneuvering through the mass of moving bodies, partially because most were eager to make their own escape out of the station and partially because the two in front of him carved brief paths for him to simply follow. Before long, the exit neared and Ronx perked excitedly, only to be jerked back and behind a bench. Yelping with surprise, he fell gracelessly to the ground next to the female pirate who had managed to catch on quicker. At least one of them had their wits. Despite her earlier fanaticism, she appeared to have cooled her head significantly, especially since she had been able to witness both her idols in action and was perhaps finally coming to terms that this was not a dream.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ronx, flailing for a moment before finding his bearings and struggling to a more dignified seating position. He shuffled closer to the bench and peeked cautiously over the edge before hastily ducking back down with wide eyes. “Oh.”

As the thin pirate proposed his plan, the female pirate nodded with determination. “No, your idea is all that I would expect from your ingenious, Mr. Maxwell,” she said earnestly, the light in her emerald eyes almost blindingly bright with admiration. It took her several moments to realise she had yet to introduce herself despite all that had been said and done. “Oh, how rude of me! I’m Clarice and can I just say that I am a major fan of both you and Mr. Ronx?” the speed of her words rapidly increased until they all but merged together. She then turned briefly to Ronx, beaming at both criminals expectantly. “I’ve been following the two of you since the second your bounty posters were released! I can’t believe I am actually meeting the Plague Rat and Flying Dart!”

“Fans?” repeated Ronx, with a small tilt to his head. “Well, it doesn’t matter! Nice to meet you, Clarince and I should still formally introduce myself. My name is Alice B. Ronx!”

He glanced over at the older man, in case he had his own plans to introduce himself. The introductions might have solidified what little evidence there had been that the three were—for all intents and purposes—accomplices, but the matter at hand was unfortunately still at large.

“Mr. Maxwell is right,” continued Clarice, taking up the plans again with a thoughtful rub to her chin. “But we still need to figure out what kind of diversion would serve us best...huh? Where did Mr. Ronx go?”

“Hey, that’s him!”

She poked her head from the side of the bench and her eyes immediately bulged. “When did he get over there?!” she gasped in shock.

The person in question, was beyond doubt the blonde revolutionary, who had somehow managed to find himself standing right before the line of marines blocking the exit. “Hi,” he chirped enthusiastically as the marines started advancing towards him.

[Estuans Cannon]

Ronx lifted his hands, gathering a horde of his tiny darts in the air, all spinning with such fervor that their exterior glowed with a reddish-orange hue. Before the marines could reach him, he flung the darts towards them, the collection of darts dispersing upon impact and searing a flaming hole into their masses. The attack left a circle of flickering flames around the blackened floor and the marines hurried to stamp it out before it could become a potential fire hazard.

“Run!” shouted Ronx and throwing his hands into the air with a whoop, before darting past the frantic marines.

The female pirated gaped as she watched the antics performed by the reckless revolutionary, but there was an undeniable spark still present in her eyes. His loud exclaim momentarily shook her from her revere and she quickly turned back to the thin man beside her.

“Quickly,” she urged him.

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After having done what he could to secure the escape of his companions, Ronx spun in a full circle, having realised a few moments too late that he hadn’t quite managed to do the same for himself. To make matters worse, the tiny embers that had resulted from his thoughtless attack earlier had somehow grown disproportionately. Perhaps they had managed to find something to feed off of, but what was the biggest worry now was the billowing smoke rising and pressing against the ceiling as though in desperate search for the exit. Exclaims and panicked cries from patrons, marines and Ronx alike were filling station. The blonde revolutionary, who was the sole cause of the panic, was arguably making the biggest racket of himself.

“Mummy, mummy!”

He froze, his ears catching the petrified cry throughout the pandemonium. He swept his amber eyes through the crowd, the marines buried and lost among them, currently the very least of his problems. A tiny tuft of black curls appeared briefly through the stampede, pressed frightfully against the wall with a line of flames flickering close by. The child was stiff with fear, his cheeks glistening with a layer of tears, the only thing he could think to do was wail for help.

Without hesitation, Ronx began pushing through the crowd, dodging tendrils of hungry flames as he did so. He reached the boy, threw him wordlessly over his shoulder and began searching around for a way out. The boy only wailed louder, failing to comprehend his situation. Ronx had adopted a new expression on his face, one slightly more akin to the one depicted on his bounty poster, and he suddenly leapt upwards, grasping one of the wooden beams from the ceiling and swung himself onto his. He quickly threw his mantle over the boy’s wet face as they entered the area flooded with black smoke. Ronx covered his mouth with his gloved hand and charged blindingly through the smog. He reached the end of the beam, his eyes burning and he glanced down. Spotting a few marines, he leapt, landing directly on their back and springing quickly off in the direction of the entrance. He broke through to awaiting fresh air and fell to the floor gasping and coughing. He drew his mantle off the boy, whose eyes were wide with confusion but his tears had at least come to a stop.

“Jack!” a voice cried out from the crowd and within seconds, a thin woman with black curls flung herself at the boy. She turned to the revolutionary and appeared ready to express her thanks, when a line of marines wielding rifles surrounded them.

“Ma’am, step away from the criminal!” one commanded sternly, his eyes trained on Ronx.

The woman’s eyes widened and sprang away from him as though she had been electrocuted. She dragged the child away from him, making a hasty retreat. The boy stared at the blonde even as he was pulled forcefully away. “Thank you, mister,” he said hesitantly.

Ronx smiled and waved the boy away.

“Flying Dart, stand down!” the marine shouted again. Ronx frowned, glanced down at the ground where he sat. Stand down? “And hands up!”

He pursed his lips and sighed before complying, much to the marines’ evident surprise. They hesitated for a moment, before the one who commanded them nodded to an officer who lowered his rifle and cautiously approached the revolutionary with metal cuffs. He grabbed Ronx’s wrists and twisted them behind his back before swiftly locking them together, his fingers trembling so much that he failed several times before finally succeeding.

“You’ll get used to it,” said Ronx cheerfully and sympathetically.

“Silence, felon!” he snapped nervously.

“That was uncalled for,” replied Ronx, visibly hurt.

He stepped back and raised his rifle once more, withdrawing back to the line without turning his back to the blonde. Their trepidation was almost amusing.

“There are still two others,” called the commander, lowering his rifle. “Spread out!”

The men saluted before dispersing, leaving only half a dozen marines to guard the prisoner. Ronx glanced behind him at the station, where the flames were being contained by hoses firing jets of water. Another group of marines were holding back the anxious crowd; it was almost as though the entire marine base was here.

“Hey, I heard there was a market here last week,” quipped Ronx, turning back to the marines guarding him. “I was very disappointed to have missed it. How was it?”

No reply came and he simmered down dejectedly. This is boring, he thought, continuing to silently play around with his locked cuffs, poking and wriggling around with two long and sharp darts.

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“Hmm…” mumbled Ronx, making no attempt to disguise his concentration. His face contorted at various times when the lock proved to be especially difficult. All the while, the marines only saw his antics as minor and irritating disturbances and he continued to fiddle around with his darts, finding little to no success.

“Ah!” he suddenly exclaimed with excitement when he managed to push aside a bolt inside the lock. “Oh…” but the bolt slipped and his face fell, downcast.

“Will you shut up?” one of the guards finally snapped, squaring the rifle across his chest threateningly. A tactic that unfortunately had little effect on those who didn’t quite understand their position.

“Apologies,” replied the detained man. He fell silent for a moment, much to the marines’ collective relief, but he soon spoke up again. Much to their collective chagrin. “I’m hungry.”

They chose to ignore him, keeping their backs stubbornly turned to him and he sighed.


“She went down there!”

A woman with brilliant emerald eyes dashed around the corner and swiftly leapt into a nearby window, disregarding the fact that it was closed. Glass smashed and she pushed her way blindingly through the room, before emerging out of another window, this one thankfully open. She heard a lady scream and a child cry, but she ignored them and glanced around her at the balcony she stood on. Beneath her, the marines were still on the chase, but had yet to notice their subject above their heads. Taking advantage of this, Clarice tossed back her brunette curls and glanced up. Scrambling onto the iron railings of the balcony, she balanced with cat-like sureness and reached up on the tip of her toes. She was a tall woman and she easily touched the ceiling, but even then her fingers only brushed the base of the railings on the above balcony.

She twisted so that half her body leant out of the balcony and she jumped, grabbing the railings firmly and pulled herself up with a grunt. Squatting on the balcony, she watched the marines continue their search, before realising several had pulled away down a different direction. Had they found the Plague Rat?

She shook her head vigorously, refusing to believe it. Not yet, they couldn’t be caught; she still had use for them…


Click. “Ah!”

“Shut up!!” came the exasperated cry from his guards.

“Sorry,” replied Ronx with an innocent smile as he carefully slid his wrists out of the loose cuffs.

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Emerald eyes flashed, sweeping over the crowd below. Clarice, still perched like a watchful gargoyle on the balcony railing, studied the bulging mass of pedestrians. Despite its best efforts to move, the pandemonium caused by the marines, criminals and the most recent fire gave little relief for the tourists whose only wish was to enjoy a relaxing holiday. The pirate smiled wryly and continued her search. After a moment, she was ready to give up and relent to the idea that her “idols” had been captured, when her ears picked up the admonishment from a heavily accented voice. Her eyes immediately found the owner of the voice: a thin, hunchback with thick glasses. She frowned for a moment, before turning away and continuing her search. Then, she froze, gasped with realisation and quickly turned back. Darn it, he’d already disappeared!

“Stupid, stupid,” muttered Clarice under her breath, reprimanding herself for her own oversight. “And you call yourself his number one fan?”

She stood up and glanced around. It would be impossible to catch up with the Plague Rat if she joined the crowd. Instead, she twisted around nimbly on her narrow platform and began climbing the balconies again until she reached the roof. She peered into the crowd from her new vantage point, trying to find the rat again, but to little avail. Clicking her tongue in frustration, she leapt over to the next building and searched again, until she finally caught sight of the tell-tale mop head and a grin spread across her cheek. “Found you~”


So the restraints were now off and with disappointingly little resistance too. Ronx sat in perplexed silence, ruminating the lack of challenge the cuffs had offered. The marines guarding him were silent too, enjoying the peace the revolutionary finally offered. Behind them, black smoke wafted high into the sky and the fire was still being contained. Ronx was amazed at how the tiny embers from his darts had somehow managed to spark such a massive blaze. He shuffled into a more comfortable position and glanced around thoughtfully.

The revolutionary had half a mind to simply get up and leave the establishment in favour of searching for the two individuals who had kept him so entertained earlier. The marines made sour companions with their rigid stances and their tendency to answer questions with twitchy triggers. Yes, the pirates were always a lot more fun than law enforcers. Cautiously, Ronx began shuffling sideways on the ground. A marine glanced back at him and he froze, his face tightened into a suspiciously innocent expression. He averted his eyes hastily and whistled a chirpy tune. Nothing to see or worry about here.

The marine narrowed his eyes at the blonde, but after several moments turned back. Ronx breathed out a sigh of relief and began his shuffle again. Once he was close enough to the line of bushes to his left, he made a quick leap and ducked under them. There, he hastily pulled himself up and made a run for it. Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far before the marines had noticed his abrupt disappearance.

“Where did he go?!”

His heart leapt from his throat and Ronx scrambled to get as far away as possible. In his blind flight, he hit the wall of unsuspecting tourists who had just decided to stop in the middle of the path to consult a map.

“There he is! Get him!”

Ronx stifled a scream and danced around the tourists, attempting to make a mad dash down the street. Little did he expect human traffic consisting of mainly tourists, but his pursuers fell to the same obstacles he faced too. Taking advantage of the crowd, he focused on slipping between the individual bodies instead of barging through like the brutish marines did. Soon, he twisted around a corner and managed to briefly lose sight of his pursuers. He took refuge behind several empty barrels, taking a moment to catch his breath and quiet his erratically beating heart.

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His pounding heart had only just slowed back to normal when something—or someone—moved beside him. His heart skipped a beat, but when he met the familiar eyes of the man he had been quick to label his ally, he visibly relaxed.

“It’s you!”

But the heartwarming reunion would have to wait. Already, the marines the two were taking refuge from had finished reorganising themselves from their previous blunder and were beginning to close in. The time for their capture—or recapture for one of them—was imminent. Having already been cuffed once today, the revolutionary was in no immediate hurry to get back into them. It was then did he have another one of his notoriously ingenious plans, the ones that made his crew shudder at the mere thought of them. He peeked out from the top of the barrel, in a way only he considered to be cautious before ducking back down and grabbing his companion by the shoulders, squaring him up to that they were face-to-face. He wore an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

“I have a plan,” he said solemnly, his amber eyes glimmering with absolute seriousness (surely repeating how “serious” he is makes it believable, right?). “But you’ll have to trust me, alright?”

Without even waiting for a reply, the young man transferred his grip to his companion’s elbow, if he would allow it. With or without the older man, Ronx then leapt out of hiding...and landed right in the middle of the searching hounds. It took several moments for him to be noticed, mostly because his presence in their midst was too outrageous to believe.

“Oh, hello,” he said cheerfully, before flinging his hands upwards.

[Noctis Spica]

The marines were rattled and had yet to fully comprehend the revolutionary’s surprise appearance—some even rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Their weapons lifted at the ready too slow but then a black shadow suddenly loomed over their heads. A sense of foreboding and dread rippled through the mass of marines. Fortunately, the citizens and tourists had been pushed to the edges from the marines’ shoving and searching. Fortunate...or calculated? Heads turned upwards, briefly forgetting the criminals. And that was all he needed. If the pirate had allowed himself to be dragged by the revolutionary, Ronx would have then made for the tiny opening left by the distracted marines with or without his companion in tow, otherwise beckoning him to follow. As they left the vicinity, the black cloud looming overhead suddenly dispersed into a hailstorm of stinging darts and they left the screaming marines in their wake.

“I’d say that went well,” chirped Ronx, without glancing back to check on the physical or mental wellbeing of his ally. “Oh! This looks promising!”

He had spotted a beautiful canal with sparkling water and gentle waves. Only seconds had passed before he unexpectedly shoved the pirate—if he had followed—into the water. Whether or not the older man would be taken by surprise or recover himself before he could tumble into the canal, Ronx would spring into the air and curl into a cannonball. He hung suspended in the air for a moment before rocketing straight down and making an impressive splash with a loud whoop. Behind them, the marines were catching up again. But by then, the water had already swept the reckless revolutionary out of sight.


Clarice burst out laughing, watching as the water carried her revolutionary idol—and possibly her pirate idol too—away, before realising they had also escaped her. Cursing, she let her delight settle, before another explosive bout of laughter took over her body again.

“Oh no, I have to find them again,” she snickered, clutching her stomach as she tried to contain herself. “Pfft!”

This went on for some time, but eventually, the red-haired lady was able enough to be on her way again. She wasn’t in any particular hurry. After all, she knew the canals well enough—at least better than the marines—and could surmise where the idol/s would stop.

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