"OPEN FIRE!"

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Jackie watched as Whitebeard simply vanished from where he was standing.

His speed was unbelievable. Already he was atop the first floor.

There was no time to think about him though. The three of them were outnumbered, and surrounded by fifteen men. The only edge they had was that most of them were half-drunk.

"Oi, Jackie. I don't need to worry about killing them, do I?" Elma asked, holding the chainwhip and spinning the blade menacingly.

"Yeah. Kill them all."

They split up and lunged straight at their opponents, completely catching them off-guard. In their midst, Elma whirled the blade over her head as she bent down, causing the bandits to duck frantically to avoid getting decapitated.

Jackie simply lowered his head and dove right into the action with his sword at the ready. Even surrounded by three men, he matched them blow for blow against sword, pitchfork and iron bar.

Eddie's pure speed was incredible, and he had already beaten one of his four opponents. Heh. Guess I've improved a little. Who needs swordsmanship?

"Are you outta your mind?!" One of Elma's opponents cried as he swung his sword at her neck, missing narrowly. Without delay, she grabbed his head and slammed him into the floor.

With a mischievous grin, she effortlessly tossed him at the four oncoming opponents behind her, throwing them off balance.

"Well, you can't shoot us down if we're right up in your face, can you?" The dagger sailed through the air, and sliced through all five of her opponents in one, quick motion.

The nine remaining thugs had begun to scatter as they tried to seclude the three. Four now faced Jackie, while Eddie dealt with two. With terrifying ease, Elma once more crushed her two opponents with the chainwhip, knocking one out with the flat of the blade and slicing through the other's throat with ease.

Outnumbered four to one, Jackie lashed out and pushed the tip of his cutlass right through the jaw of one of the men and out the top of his skull. Without a moment's delay, he threw the dead man at the oncoming three to push them back, and thrust his blade deep into the eye of the closest thug, killing him immediately.

"This is insane! It's only one man!" The shorter of the remaining two squealed, and the pair began to turn around and run.

It was already over.

One slice, as sharp and elegant as the blade that dealt the blow.

Two throats, ripped apart with immaculate precision.

Three victors standing above fifteen bodies.

Four men, killed by the Captain, "Cutthroat" Jackie.

He raised his head and looked around at the scene. "One, two...ah, damn it! You got more than me again!" He cried at Elma.

She winked at him with a playful grin. "My seven to your four. I win."

Eddie waved his hands at them to grab their attention. "Hey! Isn't anybody going to take notice of me? I just brought down six of them on my own!"

"Not really."

"Nah."

Elma kicked one of the dead men. "Still, these guys were terrible. The Spanish were really relying on these goons for this mission?" They were indeed quite terrible, but fifteen wasn't much of a number. Sixty or so men was almost impossible for the three of them.

It has been going on for some time now, but it was only after a few minutes of calm that they noticed the screaming going on upstairs. It wasn't just any kind of screaming either. It was like an animal in agony.

They had heard plenty of screaming during the fight, but this was nothing like the others. It pierced their bones and brought forth fear from somewhere deep within.

All three of them fell silent, thus allowing that horrible wailing to sail through the air uninterrupted.

They could see an orange light shining from somewhere far behind the first floor, they could smell the roasting flesh from across the barn. They could feel the goosebumps that erupted from their skin as they listened to the continuous shrieks of suffering. The sound wasn't human at this point. It just couldn't be.

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But none of them dared to go upstairs. None of them dared to call Whitebeard, to see what was going on. Jackie in particular felt nauseous and dizzy. It was as if the world was twisting and turning around him.

Is this...Whitebeard's Ley?

Eddie silently walked up to the restrained woman and cut up the ropes. He caught her as she fell and smoothly swept her up, his arms supporting her back and legs.

She clearly didn't have the strength anyway. Though awake, she had clearly been mistreated. "You're alright now, miss Boudicca. You're alright." Eddie told her, his voice gentle and soothing.

Suddenly, the screams stopped.

As they stood there wondering what to do, Whitebeard leaped down from the upper floor. His black cloak dripping with blood and grime, he looked up at the little group staring at him with alarmed faces and smiled.

"It's all over. They won't be a menace around these parts anymore." With that, he stumbled past them and out the barn. As he walked, a trail of blood followed.

As the others began to follow, Elma looked back at the bloodstained spot where Whitebeard had landed, debating whether she should check upstairs or not. But when her eyes met the slow stream of blood starting to run down the staircase, she decided it wasn't worth it.

Don't know what's up there, but it's probably best if I stay ignorant.

"Hey, Elma! Come on, what are you doing in there?" Jackie called from far ahead. She waved and ran out of the eerily quiet barn, glad to have something break the silence.

After catching up, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ahead, Whitebeard rapidly walked back in the direction of the harbour, his drenched coat unmoving in the wind. "Jackie. What do you think he did to the bandits up there?" She asked.

He simply shrugged. "I don't know, but I have no interest in finding out. All I know for sure is that he killed at least sixty people up there. And that's all I need to know." He muttered. And he was probably right too. There was no urgency to know what insanity had happened for him to come back like that.

Boudicca had now fallen back into unconsciousness. As they approached the Ivory, they were met by the two nurses and doctor of the crew. "We'll take it from here, Doctor." One of them told Eddie, who refused to hand her over.

"She's my patient. I'll take her to the recovery ward myself, if you won't mind." He strode past the two nurses, both in shock.

"U-Um...is he always like that?" The nurse asked, to which Jackie only laughed in response.

As Eddie disappeared upstairs, Jackie and Elma were met with a concerned Rosa, blabbering on about them not taking her along.

"Come on, Rosie. We couldn't take you with us to a barn filled with bandits without your weapons. We still need to get you a bow and arrows, and even then you're most useful from long range." Despite not really paying much attention as they climbed up, Jackie rebutted her with ease.

As the three reached the recovery ward, they were met with the ever silent Leonardo. He looked at them with the usual apathetic stare and said, "The Captain wants to talk to you. He's up on the top deck."

At this, Elma glanced questioningly at Jackie, who shurgged. He didn't know either.

On the deck, Whitebeard was indeed waiting, flanked by Old Man Jack and Brice. He had discarded the ruined cloak, but still had his white dress shirt on, the fabric splattered with blood.

Although Elma and Jackie were a slight bit on edge, Whitebeard seemed as calm as ever. "I just got away from Borris. He's been lecturing me since the moment I stepped back on the ship. Absolutely livid, he is."

Though his words were normal, his face gave away how preoccupied his mind was. "Alright, Jackie. I'm not beating around the bush. We've got to get off this island right now. I'm not going to risk Spanish intervention. We've got everything we came here for, so the sooner we leave the better."

Jackie pondered this for a moment. They had indeed finished up most of their own tasks, which were to gain some more supplies and obtain weapons. But...

"I'd agree with you, but there's a couple of issues. First, Rosa doesn't have a bow and arrows yet, and that's the only weapon she can fight with. Second, we have that woman, Boudicca, on board with us. We can't leave until she decides whether to stay or not."

His expression thoughtful, Whitebeard placed his hand on his chin and stared off into space for a moment. Brice leaned over to the three in front of him. "That's his thinkin' face there. Ya don't talk to him when he's thinkin'." As he said this, he raised his hand behind the captain's back, two fingers up to resemble bunny ears.

Jack chuckled at this, and Whitebeard grabbed Brice's arm and squeezed. "YEOUCH! DAMN!" He screamed, and examined his arm. "Are ya crazy? Yer gonna kill me one of these days, I tell ya!"

With a sigh, Whitebeard waved his hand at the three in resignation. "Well. Fine then, have your way. I'll allow one more day here. But you better make it quick, because the last thing I want is to have to deal with the Spanish army. And considering the fact that I killed a few of their spies in the barn, they're gonna wonder what happened to them."

Jackie and Rosa thought this was great for them, but Elma seemed dissatisfied.

"Why are you so lenient with us?" She asked him, her tone almost stern. As though she were scolding an Ascendant of all people.

Even Old Man Jack looked a bit thrown off at this question. "Young lady, you have quite the balls to question him. I applaud you." He said, patting Whitebeard's back as he said so.

Despite the reaction of the others, Whitebeard looked quite amiable.

"Leniency is something that is measured, vice-captain. Not something that is given. A person in a position of power must have trust. Belief. Without it, we would all be suspicious and unwilling to give aid when it's needed. I am not blind to a person in need. Your crew is no different."

He smiled, and raised a finger to her chin. "Be mindful of the people you help."

With that, he walked away with Brice by his side. Jack remained where he was, his eyes on Whitebeard. There was a strange expression on his face as he watched on, one of unease and anxiety.

Jackie already knew everything that Whitebeard had told Elma through Morgan. Turning back towards the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder why Jack had that strange look on his face. It made him nervous.

No. It wasn't simply his facial expression. Nor was it that cross-shaped scar on his head.

Maybe it was that cloak he was wrapped in. Black, ripped and torn to shreds, the gentle breeze made it shift, like the feathers of a crow.

The crow stood alone as the three youngsters left, watching over the near-empty top deck.