Natural Enemy 2-7B

“Seriously, you’ve gotta be joking.”

The words were flat as anything, hitting the dull stuffy air of the outpost’s lobby like mud. The fan rotors kept beating above his head, each turn sounding off louder and louder with the wub-wub-wubbing almost as powerful as his heartbeat.

Even with the polite practiced smile on the lieutenant’s face, it was crystal clear to Kai that this was no joke. If anything, he was on the end of a bad punchline.

“I don’t think you understand, boy.” Fingers twiddled on the man’s lap, almost tapping a drumbeat against pristine white trousers, but the commanding officer’s eyes stayed on him the entire time.

“N-no, I didn’t do anything, like…” Kai scoffed the words out, trying to find his feet in a conversation that was already sliding sideways. “Like, other than take down some bad guys, like…”

“You wrecked a man’s livelihood, kid.” Flat eyes stared at him beneath a Marine cap. “I don’t know how you would call turning a man’s storeroom into a swimming pool nothing.”

“I-” Kai stammered out.

“You smashed his shelves.” A finger ticked up.

“No, tha-”

“You shorted his electricity.” Another finger joined it.

“Wait, hold u-”

“And you destroyed three crates of premium beans.” Three more made five.

“…beans?” Kai’s eye twitched as he remembered the can he threw, the Grime Brother’s words echoing in his head as Patch’s beard dripped with the stuff.

“Expensive beans.” The lieutenant’s voice was serious as the grave, as if the man was talking about gold. “Imported from South Blue.”

But… but… This was more ridiculous than the fight, pure insanity. Kai’s breath came heavier with each second, eyes flicking down to the big fat number at the very bottom of the invoice.

TOTAL DUE

→ 2,250,000 Beri

No frickin’ way. 

“They were attacking me!” His protest came out at the top of his lungs, almost cracking as it pitched high. The four other Marines standing against opposite walls shifted, four pairs of hands tightening on the grip on their rifles. “They were robbing the merchant guy!”

“And now his store is ruined.” The counter came quickly. “Someone has to pay for what you broke; the beans, the floorboards, and everything else.” Hard eyes stared into Kai’s, nothing but smug greed looking back at him with no sense of justice in them. “Justice ain’t free, son.”

A shakedown.

That’s what it was, a shakedown wrapped in the law, tied up with a bow of red tape. Kai’s fingers tightened into fists. “And if I don’t pay?” 

The lieutenant shrugged, eyes turning down as he went back to cleaning his nails with that tiny knife. A laugh left him, the sound small and soft but enough to make his chest shake. “Well, that’s simple enough, then.”

“Simple?”

“Yes, we just simply hold you until a superior from Monument makes their way over. Usually takes about… nine months? It’s a long swim in the drink and we’re busy men here in the Wild West.” The officer clicked his tongue. “And then, of course, the charge shifts from ‘Bounty Hunter’ to ‘Unlicensed Vigilantism.’ Maybe even ‘Piracy,’ considering the damage.”

He smiled wide, teeth almost sharp under the light.

“Your choice, kid.” He gestured Kai’s way with the knife. “Time or money.”

Time or money. Kai’s left eye twitched again, hands shaking as he slowly pulled his bag off his shoulders. He didn’t miss the way the Marines standing guard shifted again, guns almost turning his way as they prepared for anything.

He reached into the bag and felt for the pouch, over a half-pound of bills firm in his grip after a few seconds of rummaging around. The promise of freedom wasn’t heavy, but it felt like it anyway; a solid beautiful brick of weight he had to give away. 

Unzipping the simple leather pouch, he laid the stack on the desk.

The Lieutenant watched carefully, eyes gleaming like coins as he stopped cleaning his nails again. “Count it out.”

Kai peeled off bills, each note sounding off loud as he slapped them down one by one. The sound of bones breaking was less stomach-turning, honestly; each Beri one he would never see again.

He handed over a stack for the store, a thick stack for beans that were apparently made of solid gold. Another stack for the “cleanup.” A third stack for the “fines.”

Every second that passed by, the pile in Kai’s hand shrank and withered as more and more left his palm. By the time he was done counting it all out, another door to the right of the lobby squeaked open; several heads turned as a small figure stepped out.

Glasses on a familiar-looking scared face stared back at Kai for a split-second before dropping down to meet the floor like it was more important than anything else.

“Here he is, old Yaba.” The ieutenant pointed a finger at the second stack, before jabbing a thumb at the merchant. “Direct restitution. Now, hand it to him.”

Kai stared at the merchant, the same guy who would have been beaten to a pulp and robbed dry if Kai hadn’t bothered to step in.

The merchant held out a trembling hand.

Kai slapped the stack of bills into it. “Glad I could help, sir.”

The merchant flinched like Kai had swung at him. He didn’t even say a word — even though Kai knew he definitely had a loud voice — before he pocketed the money and scurried backwards outside the office like a rat.

“And the rest for the fines…” the Lieutenant hummed out loud, before sweeping the rest of the piles into a drawer.

Kai looked at what was left in his hand; a sad sheaf of bills. Seven-fifty thousand Beri wasn’t small but still…

Three-fourths of his fortune just gone; almost all of it vaporized in ten minutes of paperwork, corruption and premium beans.

“Pleasure doing business, boy.” The Lieutenant stood up, the man smoothing his uniform as he pocketed his own knife. “Try not to break the town next time. Or we’ll take the boat, too. That wood looks mighty expensive.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Kai walked out of the outpost, blinding sun beating down on his head.

The Marine officers guarding the outside smirked his way as he walked past them, a half-dozen amused faces staring at him as he didn’t bother with a look back.

By the time he hit the docks, his feet felt heavy. Kai patted his pocket and sighed, the pouch fitting easy in his pockets now with most of what was inside it gone.

Ten minutes ago, hunting Barnacle Bill was a “maybe.” More a “why not” than an immediate goal, another possible adventure or a reason to explore. Go find the potato-man, get the gold, buy some upgrades.

Now?

Kai stopped at the gangway of the Naruto, eyes trailing the orange stripes and sleek lines of his speedboat skiff.

Getting robbed by the “good guys”…

If an actual criminal had done it, a petty thief or a pirate, that’d be one thing. But these people were supposed to be out here protecting the innocent. Supposed to. 

And here they had just picked his pocket and smiled while doing it. Assholes. 

He didn’t untie the knots gently this time, no Uncle Haku method here where he took his sweet time. Muscles strained and strained until — snap! — the rope gave way and he jumped onto the deck of his ship.

The boat rocked violently under his landing, water splashing over the sides as he sat himself in the seat. He popped the compass into the compartment designed to hold it, already aware of what direction he was heading in.

He knew exactly where the money was.

A hand shoved itself into the control port, punched in as he made another fist.

He felt the water. He felt the pressure. He channeled every ounce of his frustration into that simple connection. Violence.

There was six million Beri out there with his name on it. 

And he was gonna get it.

Full throttle.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Somewhere on the Open Ocean.

The deck of The Crusted Crabber stank of unwashed men, the scent deep and thick into the gangplanks, the cloth of the sails and the very air around the ship. It was a smell only barely covered up by that of all the dead fish and cheap rum that was passed around from man to man hour-by-hour.

Captain “Barnacle” Bill of the Barnacle Heads leaned on the rail, massive bulk resting against the wood encrusted with his namesake. Hat in hand, the sun beat down on his cracked skin as he stood there shirtless, every inch of him red as a crab’s asshole and tough enough to turn a knife. One hooked hand tapped out a harsh and heavy rhythm on the wood, a slow click-click-click that belied his boredom.

“…I miss my missus.”

The words came with a sigh, not a man close enough to hear as he looked out on the nearly flat sea, this side of Forya Island dry of both rivals and good raiding. 

The prey had been scarce for a time; no regular merchant ships this far south near Wowie, barely any pleasure cruises getting lost, and a scarce visitor that wasn’t a penniless surfer or fisherman. 

Only the endless Blue of the West.

With another sigh, the red-skinned captain looked up, eyes squinting against the glare as his good eye narrowed. Eh?

A rooster-tail of white spray kicked up into the air miles away, clearing the horizon with raw speed. Something bright orange cut through the blue like a knife, its pace far more than good.

Nay, it was fast.

Unaturally so, and it wasn’t drifting, nor was it sailing. It was a missile charging right towards the Crusted Crabber with nothing holding it back.

Bill tilted his massive head, watching the speck grow larger. A grunt slipped past his lips as he shifted his weight, the shells on his arm clacking together.

“What in the Blues is that?”