“God damn it, man!” Paracelsus said, barely deflecting another blow from Graave with a quickly conjured falchion, “You’re a true monster.”

He saw an opening and, using his gift, he flipped the sword into a small dagger, which he managed to drive into the gut of the bearman. Well, not quite the gut, moreso the dagger never actually penetrated him, but rather left a deep gash from a grazing blow to his side. The marine grunted and rubbed his side, before he examined his hand and saw the blood, amber with the heritage of an anima.

“Shit.” He said, having taken too long to look at his wound. The criminal had gotten away somewhere.

He briefly considered chasing after the pirate’s companion, but rationalized it away, thinking that Peeares would be able to handle it. Whatever, he still had his enemy to deal with. He took off, trying to isolate his scent out of all of the scents present. Had this bastard had the foresight to make some type of god-damned cologne to mask his trail?

If Paracelsus had struck a moment sooner, been just a hair quicker to recognize the look of confusion on Graave’s face, he probably would have successfully landed on his shoulders. Instead, due to his sluggishness in forging a set of stairs on the outside wall, he missed and had to improvise, landing on his own feet instead when his foe stepped backwards.

“Almost.” Graave said.

“Almost got you?” Paracelsus wanted to seem in control of the situation with a smirk, but his opponent looked just the same as ever.

“You almost escaped.” He pointed one paw at Paracelsus, and closed the opposite eye, “There’s no way you’ll ‘get’ me.”

And then it happened, Graave revealed the first of his two gifts, firing off one of his claws, which Paracelsus barely managed to stop with the use of his now iron coat. They kept coming, however, and Paracelsus was helpless to stop them all until he managed to reach the wall, and extend it laterally to protect himself. Ironically, he then did the same thing Graave did, and saw that he too, had blood covering his hand.

And much like Graave, it turned out the alchemist had spent too long on his inspection, as the bearman rounded his makeshift corner, shoulder and arm primed to engage in another melee. Paracelsus quickly opened the wall by forcing its mass out and spreading it, before he retreated. He tried to reconstruct it, but his adversary was far too fast, and the two of them took their brawl into the building, some type of church near the casino.

“Sirs,” The pastor looked at the scuffle with worry, as did the worshippers listening to his sermon, “This is a house of God.”

“Right, father.” Paracelsus held his hand up, and kissed a fetish he had created, hoping to appear the righteous one, “We were just leaving.”

The pastor humphed, and the two brawlers exited through the door. Paracelsus then took off in a sprint, ripping a poster of some wanted criminal off the wall and turning it to confetti, which got in his pursuer’s eyes. It only served a momentary distraction, however. What wasn’t momentary was the wound in Paracelsus’ abdomen, which was only getting aggravated by the chase.

He decided to make one final gambit, and threw a powder bomb at his feet, which erupted into a cloud of dust, “Now you have to make a decision, Mr. Marine,” When it cleared, Graave saw him holding another bomb, with a lit match, continuously transfiguring itself to reclaim its lighted length, in his hands, “You have the privilege of deciding whether the Union would rather, A: kill me, or B: save everyone in a five hundred foot radius.”

“No I don’t.” Graave laughed with all the bravado in the world, “You see, I’ve come to realize you’re a smarter man than you look. You must realize, as a revolutionary, that blowing yourself up in a crowded town, next to a church, would make us look that much better.”

Paracelsus didn’t let it show, but his association with the Revolutionaries, even if it was only imaginary, irritated him. He was half-tempted to actually allow the bomb to light, but Graave was half-right. He wasn’t ever going to blow up a church.

“You’ve got me.” Which is why the bomb was just a diversion from his real plan, which was the creation of a small cannon; because of its weight, it took a few seconds to fully form. Paracelsus tossed the bomb to the marine who quickly doused it, “Which is why I had a backup plan.”

The cannon went off at the moment he stepped from in front of it, and it launched its payload - a steel wire with magnet on the end of it, which did its job of capturing Graave.

“You bastard! Get back here!” Try as he might, the lieutenant was unable to escape.

“Sorry, guess you’ll just have to wait there, Teddy.” He said, taking a leisurely stroll towards where he last saw his partner.

—

Without the means of getting his hands on her, Peeares found himself unable to capture Serpacinno, who by now had mixed in her flame-breathing to the fight. She’d managed to deftly dodge her blows and return with either a jet of fire or a strike of her own, showing his inexperience.

He decided to use her flames to his advantage, and next time he saw her about to use them, he moved his hand in the way so the rope connecting them would burn off. He then used his newfound freedom to grasp Serpacinno by the shoulder and removed her weight, before tossing her into a nearby wall, causing the wind to leave her.

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She landed face down, with one arm trapped below her torso, and Peeares calmly, but carefully, approached. When he was but five feet away, she explosively struck the ground and stood, a spear now in hand; she poked and thrusted at him, and try though he did, his wings proved too large a target to miss, and Serpacinno had him at the length of her weapon.

Still, he refused to go down, swatting away more hits than landed on him, until he found a gap in her attacks that he took advantage of. He lunged towards her, and without the close-range capabilities of a sword, Serpacinno was seized by her neck.

“I believe this means I’m the victor.” He said arrogantly, failing to consider the possibility that the snakewoman still had fight in her.

And fight she did, as his thumb was on her chin, and she seized the opportunity to bite down on it. As he gripped his thumb, now bleeding profusely, a fire ignited in his eyes. He was going to kill her, protocol be damned. He grabbed the spear she dropped and began to use it against her. She gripped it when he had missed and pulled him towards her; one of the snakes on her head lashed out and bit him on the jaw.

“Be careful,” The vision of Peeares’ eye on the side that had been bit was starting to fade, “They’re venomous.”

Truth be told, the impact against the wall was taking its toll on the swordswoman, who was currently in a bluff-off against Peeares to see who would surrender, who would run away first. It was not to be this time, however, as Peeares redoubled his efforts, even without the use of his wings. He charged at her again, his ferocity at its crescendo, but without the use of a weapon, he found himself unable to make any significant progress towards catching Serpacinno. Even with the last remaining well of energy within him, he barely managed to take one step towards her.

It was at the moment when Peeares fell, the venom having done its job, that Paracelsus showed up. He quickly fashioned some rope and bound the marine’s arms before asking, “Is he dead?”

“Not unless he’s got a shit heart.” She crossed her arms, “You dealt with the bear?”

“Yeah, but we probably only have an hour, maybe less until he gets free.” He looked around for Gareland, “We need to go as soon as possible.”

“Won’t there still be four more days until we get through the channel?” She asked, nervous because of his glancing around.

“If we wait in line, sure,” He rubbed his fingers together, “But you grease any wheel with enough cash.”

“And do we have enough?” She took inventory of their money earlier, all things said, they had around five hundred international dollars.

“We do. Probably.” He placed his hand outstretched, tilted it sideways and swung it up and down a little.

“Very inspiring.” The sarcasm in her voice was almost tangible.

“I’m joking, friend,” He clapped her on the shoulder, even as he winced from the sudden exertion, “We have more than enough.” He let go and stepped forward, putting his hand over his eyes, “We do need to leave soon, though. Where is Gareland?”

As if summoned, she turned the corner, a panicked Boulliard in tow. His hands were bound, and he was out of breath. Paracelsus walked over to him and removed the rope.

“I didn’t,” Boulliard puts his hand on knees to catch his breath, “I didn’t set you up, Parac.”

The man in question rolled his eyes, “Of course you didn’t Boulliard. I was just hoping I might throw them off your trail.”

Boulliard laughed at that, “Oh. Well that didn’t quite work.”

His boss glared at him, “Because you insisted you didn’t set him up.”

“Anyway, Boulliard,” the alchemist interrupted, “We have to be going now. If it’s any consolation, I doubt the marines will be after you.”

“And why not?” Serpacinno mused, an eyebrow raised indicating her disbelief.

“Think about it; they’re soldiers,” He tapped his temple, and when nobody gave any sign of recognition, continued “Not lawmen. They were only after us.”

“That makes me feel better,” Serpacinno said, “But still, how are we going to get across the channel quickly?”

“Well, there’s an old sailor’s tale about putting a gold locket on a length of fishing wire,” He waved his hands, doing just that, “And casting it into the water. Supposedly, if it’s taken, it means a mermaid will help carry you to your destination.”

Gareland and Serpacinno looked at him incredulously. He looked back for a few seconds as the two of them stared in disbelief. This was the man they were supposed to be sailing with? A man who believed in mermaids? But then, there was no real other choice, for the gorgon at least.

Paracelsus walked over and clasped his friend’s hand, “Boulliard, I want to apologize for abridging our departure like this.” he sighed, “But we have to get going before the marines catch up to us. I’ve told you workers how to fix the machines, so I wish you success in this business.”

Boulliard pulled him into a hug, “I understand, Parac.” He clapped him on the back, “It was good to see you after so long. Come pay me another visit once you’ve achieved your grand ambitions, huh?”

“I’ll make sure to,” He kept the man in his embrace, “Should only take a few years, nothing major.”

The two of them laughed before breaking off; it was a bad start to his adventure, all things considered. He hoped to not draw the ire of the Union until he had at least gathered One Piece of Kósmeidí, but events rarely turn out how we want them to. And so, with no further obligations, he set underway to return to The Living Current, as the ship was now named.

When the three of them boarded, the ketch was only halfway through the channel. As a remedy to this, Paracelsus cast his line out into the water, waiting as the ship traveled lazily through the almost still-calm water. And he continued waiting for nearly five minutes, with two women watching over his shoulder the whole time as his nervous perspiration threatened to raise the sea levels.

And then it happened - he felt the locket get pulled off the hook. He knew it was pulled off, and not bitten as he had experience with fishing. He excitedly pulled the line back up and saw the object was missing.

“See? I told you.” He said, gesturing to the empty hook, “Never doubt my sailing abilities.” He finished triumphantly, with a bow.

“It remains to BE SEEN -” Serpacinno started, before she was cut off by the rumbling of the water. It quickly adopted a glowing, lighter blue tone as the ship rocketed away (relative to the speed of sailing vessels of the time) and deftly darted between other ships on the same route, “Well, I suppose you were right.”

“Of course I was,” He said with the feigned confidence Serpacinno was learning to discern, his sea legs allowing him to stand without the use of the railing, “As I said - I’m an experienced sailorman. It’ll probably take around twenty more hours until we’re back in the open sea. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Actually,” Gareland piped up, arms folded over her chest, “I’d like to ask about your business proposition, now.”