One Piece Pirate Nation

AU One Piece Roleplay

Travel to islands within Paradise temporarily no longer requires a Log Pose or timer/wc. A post to signify travel is still required however.

Log in

I forgot my password



Statistics
We have 1006 registered users
The newest registered user is Izanami

Our users have posted a total of 57100 messages in 7565 subjects
Affiliates
Our Button

Vote For Us

Affiliates



You are not connected. Please login or register

View previous topic View next topic Go down  Message [Page 1 of 1]

1 Alabasta Arc on Wed Mar 01, 2017 3:41 pm

Kincaid

Revolutionary Captain
Revolutionary Captain

avatar
Task Name: In the City of Sand – Cyrus
Tier: 1
NPC or PC: PC
Location: Alabasta
Crew, Team, or Personal: Personal
Description: Off the tip from Dr. Avery, Cyrus gathers his crew and heads for Alabasta in search of information on his wife and daughter. Upon arrival he tells his crew to spread out, searching for any information they can about robots on the island.
Enemy Details: None, simple information gathering/plot moving task
Boss: N/A

Cyrus Kincaid


Reaper of the Revolution

Cyrus looked down at the map on the desk of his cabin aboard the Dreadnaught. It was a map of Alabasta, the city within the sands as some referred to it, and it was his current destination. He had loaded up his crew, leaving Drum to its own devices while his robots were built and put on line by Aurora. By the time he returned he hoped to have a fully functioning battalion of robot grunts. They wouldn’t be much, but it was a step in the right direction for sure. If he could get these generic robots up and running, combat ready, then he could expand his horizons all the more in the not too distance future. Regardless, that wasn’t where his mind should be focused at the moment. Drum needed some time away from him and he away from it. The citizens needed to learn how to function on their own, without a heavy-handed ruler and the time apart would be good for everyone. He wasn’t all that worried about anyone trying to show up and take Drum from him. Those with the capabilities in Paradise to do so were his allies, as he thought of Junbei and Asher, and the Marines were more than preoccupied at the moment.

Taking his eyes away from the map for a moment, Cyrus reached over to the rolled up News Coo on the corner of his desk. It was over a week old at this point, but he couldn’t seem to part with it. After all, it spoke of his brother, if even only in spirit, and his accomplishments on Jaya. Cyrus thought back to his own time on Jaya and couldn’t help but smile, they had been so close to crossing paths after all this time, he and Bazel, and yet fate said otherwise. Beyond the update on Bazel, Cyrus didn’t mind stoking his own ego when he read about the Rookie of the Month. It was his first time, and while he found it strange considering someone had actually bombed Mariejois, he accepted it with open arms and a light chuckle from time to time. Stirring him from his thoughts, the bell for land spotting rung angrily across the decks of The Dreadnaught. Rising from his chair, Cyrus grabbed his cane and padded to the doors of his quarters. Throwing them open, Cyrus walked out onto the open deck of his ship, the salt air making his eyes water as he did so.

Mornin Cap’n, looks like we just found Alabasta. Alice, one of the newest additions to Cyrus’s crew said with a smile and nod to her captain. Good morning Alice, good to see you top side for a change rather than down in the dredges of this old beast.
Alice chuckled before responding, Don’t get too used to me being up here just yet. Only here to fix a section of railing one of our sailors pointed out to me last night. With that, Alice walked off, tools in hand, towards the section of railing. Alone, at least in conversation as dozens of people milled about the deck, Cyrus walked towards the front of the shit to get a better look at the island in the distance.
I truly loathe the desert. Spoke a voice suddenly just behind Cyrus’s left shoulder.
Ah good morning Ariel. Cyrus said with the tip of his hat, trying to hide the sudden shock the fishwoman had given him by silently appearing behind him. I understand your disdain and naturally I’ll ask that you be in charge of guarding the ship while we look through the town. I figure you’ll be more at home on the docks than in the middle of a sand city.
How very considerate of you, thank you captain. Ariel said before retreating back into the crowd of sailors and Revolutionaries as silently as she had appeared.


Several hours later Cyrus had disembarked from his docked ship with about twenty other men. I want you to split up in pairs. Keep your head low and don’t draw too much attention to yourselves. I made the front page of the News Coo last week so odds are pretty high some of these citizens might recognize me. I’ll be searching alone, last thing I need is get one of you dragged into a confrontation with the Marines or whatever police force they have here. Understood? Cyrus asked the men and women under his guidance who all replied with a unanimous approval before heading down the docks and fanning out across the city. The men have been told to be back to the ship by sundown every day. Unless I haven’t checked in in 24 hours, don’t worry about me. Ariel you’re in charge of defending this ship. Old Mei, if things go south you make the call of whether or not to ditch us or stay behind. The two polarzingly different women nodded in acceptance and Cyrus took off down the docks and into the city.

Naturally the first place any one, but particularly Cyrus, goes to in a new city for information is a bar, which is exactly where Cyrus found himself not ten minutes after leaving the ship. About three drinks in by this point; Cyrus got one of the bartender’s attentions and began questioning him about the presence of cyborgs on the island. Cyborgs eh? Can’t say I know too much about those my friend. I’ve met one or two, sure, but it’s been some time since I’ve seen any machinery like that.
Roscoe…c-can I call you Roscoe? Cyrus stuttered, the drinks hitting him unusually harder than normal. He usually didn’t feel like this until around the 8th or 9th one.
Well that is my name, so I don’t see why not.
I think, well what I think……you know what I think? I think you’re a dirty liar my friend. Look at your hands Roscoe. Motor oil! Cyrus practically cried out in drunken disbelief as he stared at the man’s hands wiping down a clean mug. To Cyrus’s credit, drunk or not, he was right. Roscoe’s hands, while not covered in fresh motor oil by any means, had the tell tale stains of a man well versed in motor oil and machinery. Called out, Roscoe looked down at his hands, inspecting them as if for the first time. Cyrus watched the mental gears turn and twist as he debated if he should lie or come clean to this drunken customer. Finally, he decided to come clean and leaned forward across the counter so only Cyrus could hear, Alright, you got me. There are some underground robot fights at night in the city. A friend and I got together, did some tinkering, his work mostly with my money that comes with owning one of the busiest bars in a desert, and we started betting on fights. We make some money from time to time but it's mostly just for fun. If you keep your voice down, I might be able to get you an in to at least watch. Roscoe said, clearly not wanting to be outed by this drunkard.

S-s-sold! Cyrus said with a dopy grin as Roscoe turned around, fixed two quick drinks and handed one to Cyrus, On the house my friend. The bartender said with a pleasant grin as Cyrus clinked glasses and finished the drink in one gulp. Cyrus blinked several times as the liquor descended into his stomach, burning on the way down. The room began to tilt ever so slightly as he sat in his stool at the bar. Looking down quickly he noticed Roscoe hadn't even touched his drink, while Cyrus's glass sat empty on the counter. Y-you dr-d-drugged me? Cyrus stammered as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Been drugging you my friend. Roscoe said, going back to cleaning the same mug he had been before, as if nothing had changed whatsoever.
Well that's not very...very nice. Cyrus said as his neck suddenly felt too heavy to support his head and he rested it on the bar top.
Welcome to Alabasta, Cyrus Kincaid. Roscoe whispered as Cyrus succumbed to the drug.

OOC:

Words: 1370
Needed: 1200


View user profile

2 Re: Alabasta Arc on Tue Mar 07, 2017 4:43 pm

Kincaid

Revolutionary Captain
Revolutionary Captain

avatar
Cyrus Kincaid


Reaper of the Revolution


The first sense that came back to Cyrus after his fun little night forcefully experimenting with drugs was his taste, and boy did it suck. Flicking his tongue against his teeth, eyes still closed, Cyrus nearly retched right then and there as the taste of copper or metal of some kind filled his mouth. Opening his eyes he spit, trying to rid himself of the vile taste. He watched as splatter spots of wet saliva dotted the concrete floor of whatever hellhole he was currently residing in. Attempting to wipe the residue spittle from the corner of his mouth, Cyrus found his hands had been chained on either side of him, out and above his shoulders. Already he noticed they were beginning to tingle with the loss of feeling. Looking around, the Reaper of the Revolution decided it was best to try to get his bearings and at least understand his current predicament. The room was concrete, or perhaps some form of sandstone he noticed, with flecks of yellow and red rock throughout the slabs. Apparently Cyrus was important enough to garner his own jail cell, how quant, as he was the only occupant of this particular spot. In front of him was a heavy metal door, clearly content looking as impenetrable as possible. Shifting his gaze along the floor, Cyrus found that his cane sword was nowhere to be found, which figured. Even if whoever took him hadn’t deduced the hidden blade within his cane, no prisoner, limp or otherwise would be allowed to take a cane in with them to prison. Cyrus only hoped Rosco, or whoever, had had the decency to take the cane with him and not leave it in that bar where any vagabond could’ve simply scooped it up and pawned it off in the city. That certainly would’ve been a pain to track down.

After a few minutes of pondering and self-loathing for not noticing a drugged drink, Cyrus deduced that he was most likely underground. The wall was cold against his back, even through his clothes, and the air itself was far from the heat he had grown accustomed to while in Alabasta. Suddenly a violent scream ripped through the jail cell from outside the door. A man’s voice by the sound of it and one who was currently experiencing pure agony. Well, that doesn’t bode well. Cyrus said to himself as keys jingled outside his cell and the heavy metal door swung open. Two burly men carried a third between them, though the third was dragged more than walking himself. Blood dripped from his face, hands and chest as Cyrus noted the man was clearly unconscious. Obviously whatever terrible pain he had been experiencing earlier had already taken over him and mercifully knocked him unconscious. The two men dragged the third in and dropped him on the floor in front of Cyrus like a pile of old laundry. From behind them a familiar voice spoke, Grab the one on the wall and put this one in his place. If he’s still alive in the morning, bring him breakfast and shower him.

Cyrus looked at his own cuffs, wondering just how many bloodied, broken and beaten men’s wrist had shared them without being cleaned. Okay…ew… He said as the two fine gentlemen (sarcasm fully engaged at this point) unlocked his cuffs and grabbed an arm in each two of theirs with grips like a vice, Ease up boys, I’m not going anywhere. Roscoe, good to see you as usual. Cyrus said with a nod of his head as the two men lead him out of the cell and into the hallway where Roscoe stood. Good to see your still in such high spirits, I expected you to be a bit mouthier after the little stunt I pulled to get you here. Roscoe replied before clasping a bracelet around Cyrus’s forearm. Water under the bridge my friend, water under the bridge. Nice bling, you really shouldn’t h- Cyrus stopped suddenly as the cool stone of the bracelet touched his skin and a sudden feeling of dread and fatigue washed over him, Ugh…wait, let me guess…
Seastone. Roscoe concluded Cyrus’s thought. Please, you didn’t think I’d let a man with skills like yours simply run around freely with that damn fruit, did you?
That’s funny, because I didn’t feel any seastone on those restraints back in the playroom. Cyrus said, nodding his head over his shoulder at the cell behind him.
I didn’t see the need to be honest. I knew you’d be coming out of the drug stupor I placed you in around this time, give or take a minute or two. I hedged my bets and viola, we showed up just as you were beginning to regain full motor control. Correct me at any point if I’m mistaken.
Cyrus felt his fingers again as the numbness began to creep away and he regained full control of them, Nope, sounds about right unfortunately. I have to hand it to you, that’s some potent stuff.

Roscoe shrugged, I dabble a bit. Come, walk with me. Roscoe said before turning and walking towards some stone steps down the hallway. On either side of him Cyrus felt the two brutes grip tighten as they began to walk him forward behind Roscoe. I have to admit I was surprised when I saw the Reaper of the Revolution stroll through the doors of my bar yesterday.
So I’ve been down here at least a night, probably a full day considering how early I was in that bar. Cyrus thought as Roscoe spoke and they walked. Especially considering you were the Rookie feature of the month in the News Coo. Yet here you were, rolling in like it was just another Tuesday. Imagine my luck, and my surprise to see a man such as you. Not only that, but you quickly became curious in me. Little ole me, could you imagine that?
You really like to hear yourself talk, huh? Cyrus asked, quickly receiving a brutal fist to the jaw from the man on the right of him.
Thank you James. Roscoe said as Cyrus moved his jaw around, trying to whether the sudden explosion of pain.
James, huh? Struck me as more of a Igor or something. Cyrus said, looking up at his captor.

Roscoe held up his hands as he turned around at the top of the steps, Regardless, I get it. I’m wasting your time, that’s probably what you’re thinking, so let’s just get to it then. I have information you want, you are a fighter I need to make some money. You win, we’ll chat. You lose…well; neither of us has to worry about anything if you lose.
Win what exactly? Cyrus asked, though he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. The two guards on either side of him let go of his arms for the first time now that they all stood at the top of the stairs. A large metal door, even thicker than the one that had housed Cyrus earlier, stood open at the top and inside was nothing but complete darkness. An abyss swallowing any light that dare try to penetrate it.
It’s a contest of sorts. Some friends and I gather every few weeks or so with new combatants we hand pick throughout the city and Grand Line itself. Some of us have gotten into the robotics sector, tinkering with this and that, myself included. Usually I’d build a robot for tonight’s bout, but when I saw you, well, I immediately canceled all plan and placed all of my attention on you.
Wow, I’m honored and not at all creeped out.
Well, it’s just about time for things to get underway. I’m sure you’re well versed in the idea of a fight to the death? Now get in there and break a leg, or a few, just not your own. Roscoe said with a toothy smile as he stepped out of the way and Cyrus was shoved through the door, stumbling to the floor covered in sand. Behind him the door was slammed shut, with only a small window of light coming from the steel bar window of the door.

Gathering himself, Cyrus stood and stared into the abyss. Instantly floodlights were switched on and Cyrus had to shield his eyes with his forearm, blocking out at least some of the light while his vision adjusted. He found himself in a dome of metal, a sandy floor and walls well over three stories tall on every side of him. Atop the walls were metal bar fences, allowing spectators, a lot of spectators, to watch the events below. Cyrus stared at the gathered masses above him, hollering and screaming with fistfuls of beli crumpled in their hands. In the arena with him were twenty other men and women spread out around the circle. Each had a weapon of some kind and even a piece of armor or two. I may have taken away your fruit for the sake of fairness, but you'll find your little cane sword on the wall next to you. Roscoe said from behind Cyrus. Turning, the Revolutionary noticed Crow leaning against the wall and quickly grabbed it before turning back to the gathered fighters just as a piercing air horn sounded the beginning of the theatrics. Good luuuuck. Roscoe practically sang as other fighters began stabbing and slicing at one another.

Cyrus watched as a woman tackled a larger man at the knees, brining him down to the ground hard. He was clearly jarred and in pain, but that didn't stop him from producing a make-shift shiv from up his sleeve and begin to repeatedly stab into his attacker's exposed back. As the fighters erupted, so too did the crowd above them. One man brazenly charged at Cyrus with a large hammer, but Cyrus being the more experienced fighter quickly sidestepped him and rapped his cane against the man's knees, causing them to buckle. The man crashed to the ground behind Cyrus, his head making a sickening crack against the wall as he fell. Activating his Haki, Cyrus scanned the arena for major threats. It wouldn't do to lose an arm in a bloodbath like this. Off to his right he felt the sudden ping of danger as a spear was launched through the air. Without hesitating, Cyrus grabbed the closest person to him, a woman with a large sickle, and spun her around so she was in front of him just as the spear came within range. Cyrus silently cringed as the sickening sound of a clean weapon slid through the chest of a living being, making a wet hissing noise as the woman dropped to the ground without a word. Sorry about that, truly. Cyrus said with a sad frown as another horn blared. By this time the savages had already widdled their numbers down by half. Eerily however, at the sound of the second horn all of the fighters stopped and turned towards the walls of the arena, weapons raised. They were no longer interested in each other but instead whatever was about to happen next.

Oh, that can't be good. Cyrus mumbled before following suit and turning his attention to the walls that surrounded them. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed one of the walls slide upward as a blade shot out from the dark and pierced the fighter closest to it without even the slightest warning. He choked out blood, fidgeted a bit, and then died skewered like a piece of meat. Cyrus watched silently as a massive 10 foot tall robot with four bladed arms stepped out from behind the wall. Other panels began rising up, revealing terrible mechanical creations. Some walked, some rolled, others seemed to slide along the ground as they entered the frenzy. Each had a small arsenal of close range weaponry and quickly began cutting down the organic life in the arena. In front of Cyrus, a robot with a massive sphere used for maneuvering and two sickle hands rolled out of the wall and directly towards him. Without hesitation, Cyrus dashed forward to meet it head on, appearing behind it as he sheathed his blade. The top section of the robot fell away from the sphere, which rolled forward and into the frenzy behind him. In just a short amount of time the robots had already picked off most of the humans, though to the humans credit several robots lay in ruin as well.

Towards the far end of the wall Cyrus noticed the massive robot from earlier slashing away at the two other remaining humans who were desperately trying to match it blow for blow and simply stay alive. Unsheathing his sword, Cyrus rapidly sent four wind blades hurtling towards the monstrosity, ripping into its back and arms and punching massive holes in the robot. When Cyrus was finished with it, nothing above the waste remained save for a few loose springs and rolling gears. I figured it was us or- Cyrus began, talking to the two humans behind the robot but paused as he noticed their bloody corpses splattered against the back wall by his own attack, Well, shit. He swore to himself. Turning back towards Roscoe behind the metal door, Cyrus threw up his hands, Well I played your little game Roscoe, now take this thing off me and start answering some of my questions. Cyrus yelled in reference to the seastone bracelet on his wrist.

Oh no my friend, Roscoe laughed from safety, while you put on a fine show, I'm afraid we're only just getting started.

Spoiler:

Words: 2282/2000
Stamina: 425/500
Haki: 235/250

TLDR: Cyrus gets abducted by an old associate of Jane D. Punk and is thrown into some fighting pits. Cyrus wins but the real fight is only just beginning.


[/color]

View user profile

3 Re: Alabasta Arc on Tue Mar 07, 2017 4:45 pm

Kincaid

Revolutionary Captain
Revolutionary Captain

avatar
Note: idk why but the blue box around my profile for the most recent post just disappeared. If someone knows how to fix that/wants to teach me that'd be much appreciated.

View user profile

4 Re: Alabasta Arc on Wed Mar 08, 2017 3:20 pm

Kincaid

Revolutionary Captain
Revolutionary Captain

avatar
Cyrus Kincaid


Reaper of the Revolution


Of course it is… Cyrus sighed, blowing air out from between his lips as he looked back at Roscoe. So what’s the point here? Just keep throwing robots and drugged up fighters at me until I eventually get tired? From behind the door Cyrus could hear Roscoe chuckling as he shook his head, looking down at his feet. You came looking for someone who specialized in robotics. I am that someone you see, or at least, I’m in contact with someone who knows a thing or two about these ticking soldiers. I know about your wife and daughter, it was my boss who worked on them. Took them from the brain dead flesh bags they were and built them into something marvelous and terrifying. I have no doubt Avery showed you some pictures or at the very least described them to you as they are now.

Cyrus raised a single eyebrow in questioning concern, How do you- Know Dr. Avery? She worked for my boss, quite the brain on that one honestly. It’s a shame she developed a consciousness and decided she didn’t have the stomach for what the World Government desired. Naturally, we had to let her go, but not before she had done some extensive work with my boss on your wife and daughter. Cyrus turned as the walls lifted up again and he saw more robots file into the arena. Raising his weapon in preparation, Cyrus was about to slash at the one closest to him when Roscoe chimed in, Don’t mind them, they won’t bother you. They’re simply here to retrieve the dead and clean up the arena for our next bout. Cyrus watched them for a bit longer, cautious of Roscoe’s lies, but eventually turned back to the man behind the door, his haki still up and ready to warn him should anything come his way. As I was saying, and by the look on your face you clearly didn’t know, but Avery was the lead assistant on the little project with your lovely wife and sweet child. Granted she wasn’t the brains behind the operation, but she certainly did her fair share.

You keep mentioning this mysterious boss, care to share the name? Cyrus asked, knowing full well it was a slim chance at best. In response, Roscoe simply smirked through the bars of the door, Perhaps later, but right now we have a bit of a family reunion to get to. As if on Roscoe’s cue, the panels across the arena opened and Cyrus turned to face his worst nightmare. The cleaner robots had left moments before, leaving a spotless arena with hardly any left over blood stains and not a body or gear to be found. In their place walked in two people Cyrus never thought he’d see again. These were two people he had watched blow up in the house they had built together right in front of him. He had spent nights tossing and turning, replaying the same scene in his mind over and over again. Emma coming to the door with Charlie in her arms just as the mortar dropped into the house and detonated. The entire house had gone up in flames like a tinderbox, whatever hadn’t been blown out by the initial blast that is. Cyrus himself had been sent flying dozens of feet, rolling down a hill and knocked unconscious.

Joy, anxiety, fear, regret, love, and even hatred boiled up in Cyrus, flowing through him with no clear outlet. He was at a loss for words and actions, unsure of how to proceed. Tightening his grip on his cane, Cyrus turned back to Roscoe and said, I won’t fight them. You can kill me here, but I won’t hurt them. I refuse. From behind the door Cyrus could hear Roscoe sigh dramatically, Yes well, like any good villain I planned for this. Gentlemen! Roscoe yelled from behind the door. Up above in the ring around the arena there was a disturbance in the crowd, who quickly fell silent and backed away from the metal bars. As the drunken spectators fell back, armed Marines took their place and pointed their rifles down at the arena, down at Cyrus. However, one Marine had something else in his hands. A single revolver pressed to the temple of Cyrus’s marksman Zoe. Cyrus noticed she had looked better, with torn clothing and thing lines of blood coming down her right arm and face. A large purple egg was beginning to form on her face where she had clearly been hit by the butt of a rifle. The two made eye contact and Zoe lowered her head in shame, I’m sorry. You hadn’t reported in for nearly an entire day. I went out looking, not just for you, but for any leads too. Don’t be mad Cap, I was doing my job.

Cyrus shook his head, but said nothing as he stared at her. His mind was racing faster than he could form words. Why were there Marines here? How had Roscoe known who Zoe was and had her picked up? Were the others safe? Did Old Mei even still have the Dreadnaught docked on the island or had Zoe and Cyrus been left behind as instructed. Marines…you’re working for a Shichibukai, aren’t you? Cyrus said, beginning to put the pieces together, turning to face Roscoe behind the door. Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Well, mostly. I prefer to say I work under a Shichibukai, one of the most beautiful and powerful Warlords at the World Government’s disposal in fact. Even as Roscoe spoke, Cyrus was already beginning to put the words together. The Seven Warlords of the World Government were notorious throughout the seas, recognizable on sight by any average citizen. Cyrus had only ever seen one, the owner of this island in fact – Ren Actimel – in person before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know of the others. Cyrus shook his head, as he finally understood just how deep this rabbit hole went. It began as a chuckle at first, but quickly grew to an all out belly laugh as he couldn’t believe just how screwed he was. For a moment, everyone else in the arena was silent, letting Cyrus have the mental break he so rightly deserved. His cyborg wife and child simply stood across from him, staring into him with lifeless eyes as they waited for their command.

Something the matter my friend? Roscoe finally asked as Cyrus’s laughter died down.
First of all Roscoe, fuck yourself; you’re no friend of mine. Nothing’s the matter really; it just came to me that instead of punching in the face of some geeky scientist, I’m going to have to take the head of a freaking Shichibukai. Cyrus sighed, shaking his head, Oh well, life’s just funny that way, huh? Cyrus asked no one in particular and fittingly was answered with silence from the gathered masses around him. Clearing his throat, Roscoe decided to break the awkward air, Yes well, I suppose you’re right. Speaking of which, it seems you have a choice Mr. Kincaid, do you wish to die in the past with your loved ones, Roscoe asked in reference to Emma and Charlotte standing before him, or live in the future with your possibilities? He said, motioning up to Zoe who struggled against the brute strength of the Marine holding her. So what? I either butcher my family, who let me remind you, I thought had already been butchered by the World Government all those years ago, or I die and you kill Zoe too? If I fight and win…what? Then you shoot Zoe anyway.
Please Mr. Kincaid, I like to play games and have my fun, but I’m nothing if not fair. If you win you and your friend up there are free to go. The mental scars you take with you will be more than enough of a victory for me. Now then, ladies, please help this fine gentleman with his decision. Cued, the Emma and Charlotte monstrosities suddenly jumped into action.

I assume there’s no point in even trying to pertain to whatever humanity they might have left in them, huh? Cyrus asked Roscoe sarcastically from over his shoulder, I’m afraid so Mr. Kincaid. Whatever humanity they once had is long dead. These are killing machines. Roscoe replied and Cyrus wanted to rip the bastards throat out just from his tone, as if he was getting some sick pleasure out of watching this spectacle. Within seconds the cyborgs were upon him, Charlie moving much faster than her mother, with titanium blades sprung from her arms. She began slashing at her father, wild like a wolverine, but Cyrus could tell the robot was already analyzing and calculating Cyrus’s movements even as he side stepped and swatted away the blades with his sheathed cane. The blades came one after the other but Cyrus continued to simply step back and fend them off. Several times he saw openings in the cyborg’s attack, but at the same time he saw the face of his daughter. The face of the little girl who would squeal with delight as Cyrus raised her onto his shoulders. With his haki heightening his awareness he could see Emma approaching him long before she even reached him, but he did nothing to protect himself as large round shields sprouted from her own forearms and she smashed her left arm into his chest, sending Cyrus flying off his feet and to the sandy metal ground below. The air was knocked out of his lungs and for a moment he was at peace. It’d only be a matter of time before the two were on him, Charlie’s little wrist blades tearing into him while Emma bashed his brains in with the titanium shields that had been installed in her. Cyrus closed his eyes and waited.

FIGHT YOU IDIOT!!
Cyrus opened his eyes, looking up at Zoe who stood high above him looking down at the scene below. Emma and Charlie were moving in for the kill, he could feel them without seeing them, and there was Zoe streaked with blood and tears in her eyes looking down at him. He had a crew that needed him, an entire island that depended on him. He once had a family, a small but happy family, but the World Government took that from him long ago. That was another lifetime and, surprisingly Roscoe was right, it was time to live for the future, not in the past.

Suddenly Charlie blurred into existence in front of him, blades aimed to puncture his chest but as they began to pierce the skin, they bounced off harmlessly. Cyrus had activated his Busoshoku Haki unconsciously, I’m meant to die someday, maybe it was even that day so long ago, but I know that right here, right now, today is not the day. Cyrus said as he swatted Charlie away with his cane and jumped to his feet. In one fluid motion he charged at Emma, sword raised to slash but at the last moment he unhooked the hidden sickle and attempted to disembowel his wife. The titanium/seastone reinforced sickle cut deep, revealing cogs and wires. The cyborg hardly seemed to notice however as she grabbed Cyrus by the shoulders and threw him across the arena with unimaginable strength. He hit the wall hard, coughing out blood as he did so. Then, like a bat out of hell, Cyrus’s daughter jumped back towards him, blades still out, but he was ready. Cutting the air with his sickle, Cyrus lit his sword aflame and slashed into the vacuum in front of him, causing an explosion as Charlie leaped through the air. The robot child was sent flying, much of her synthetic skin ablaze and melting off as she rolled through the sand.

Cyrus was about to turn his attention back to Emma when an ear-piercing shriek suddenly filled the arena. Covering his ears instinctively, Cyrus turned towards Charlie who currently had her mouth open releasing a weaponized sound blast and holding Cyrus firmly in place. The Marines above him dropped their weapons, covering their ears as well to escape the harsh noise. Even Zoe’s handler, Cyrus noted, seemed irritated by the shriek as he pulled the gun away from Zoe and tried to cover his own ears.

Off to Cyrus’s left, Emma’s long brown hair was beginning to rise up on end, as if effective by static electricity. However, Cyrus knew that that was unlikely as the air whipped forward of its own volition, sending brown needles at the revolutionary. Cyrus dodged, but time seemed to slow with the sound waves holding him in place. It was like moving through water, or syrup even. He managed to evade most of the needles, but not all as piercing pain shot through his right thigh and shoulder. Two needles had hit their mark, embedding themselves in his arm and leg. They hurt, but from what he could tell they hadn’t hit anything major. Not one to hesitate however, Cyrus continued running around the perimeter of the arena, with Emma in the center and Charlie now behind her from his vantage point at the far end. I’m sorry. Cyrus whispered beneath his breath as he sent four wind drills spiraling towards his wife and daughter. The firs two ripped Emma apart, sending limbs and machinery flying while the second two drilled into his baby daughter. Charlie’s mechanical head exploded like a piñata of wires and metal shrapnel while her body suddenly displaced a perfect hollow circle where her stomach once was.

A hushed silence fell over the arena as Cyrus stared at the remains of his family strewn about the arena floor. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to put down your own wife and child. Truly a sad moment. Roscoe said as the door swung open and he strolled out into the arena, key to the seastone bracelet in hand. Those things weren’t my family. My family died a long time ago. Cyrus spat back, not even trying to hide the contempt in his voice. Yes well, whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep through the night I suppose. Now then, I’m going to keep my word and take this nasty little piece of jewelry off your wrist but I have to remind you we still have your friend up there so don’t try anything. Roscoe said, unlocking the bracelet and taking it from Cyrus’s wrist. As promised, you’re free to go. Once you’ve left the perimeter we’ll let your friend go as well.

Cyrus looked up at Zoe, still in the clutches of her captors with the revolver pressed firmly to her forehead. ROOM! Cyrus yelled as a ROOM developed around the entire arena, reaching up to where the Marines and Zoe stood. You bastard. Kill her, kill her now! Roscoe commanded the Marines, but Cyrus was too quick for him as the rifles suddenly ripped free of the Marines’ hands and turned on their wielders, gunning the Marines down where they stood. The man holding Zoe would find his arm being forced upwards, gun to his own temple as Cyrus pulled the trigger of the gun and painted the wall with the man’s greymatter. The rifles slid through the bars of the cage above the arena and floated down so they were surrounding Roscoe. Your boss, where is she?
Alright, alright, let’s just put the guns down. You made your show, we can ta- Cyrus pulled the trigger of the rifle pointing at Roscoe’s left kneecap. The bullet nearly ripped the scrawny man’s entire leg off as he fell to the floor screaming. You know what’s awful about getting shot in the hip? Cyrus asked quietly, crouching down to Roscoe’s level as he lay screaming in agony, When you get shot in the hip, it’s a pain like no other. All those tiny little nerves clustered together. They blossom into a garden of pain unlike you’ve ever experienced. Afterwards, if you manage to recover, you walk with a constant limp for the rest of your days. Nasty business really. Now then, where is Jane D. Punk?
Go to hell. Roscoe spat, grabbing at his knee. His face was red with rage and pain, covered in sweat and Cyrus could tell he was getting ready to go into shock.

Cyrus pulled the trigger of the next rifle, taking a solid chunk of hip along with it. Roscoe screamed even louder this time before becoming very, very still as he succumbed to shock from the pain. Rubbing his hands together, Cyrus placed one thumb above the man’s heart and another just below it and to the right. Stay with me you old bastard. Cyrus said before delivering a counter shock to restart Roscoe’s heart. Almost immediately Roscoe’s eyes snapped open and the screams continued. Make it STOPPPPP! Roscoe bellowed.
Where is Jane D. Punk? Cyrus demanded.
Bal-bal…Baltigo. The Red City. She’s in the Red City. Roscoe finally spat out between screams.
Cyrus nodded, And how do I get out of here?
Stairs, other end of the h-hallway. Up, right, second…second…left.
Thank you. Cyrus said before moving a third rifle to Roscoe’s forehead and ending the pathetic man’s miserable life.

Dropping the ROOM, Cyrus looked up at Zoe and said simply, We’re heading for Baltigo. Make your way back to the ship, I’ll be there in two hours. I need to check in with someone in Alabasta first. With that, Cyrus walked through the door he had entered the arena and headed for the exit. Zoe, already being on the upper level did the same, stunned into silence by the same cruelty and darkness she had witnessed in her captain way back on Drum.

Spoiler:

Words: 2976
Needed: 2400

TLDR: Cyrus is forced to fight his cyborgified wife and child. Roscoe reveals Jane D. Punk built them and is his boss. Cyrus kills the cyborgs because Roscoe/Marines are holding Zoe prisoner. Cyrus kills Marines and Roscoe, very dark and gritty stuff. Cyrus makes plans to go to Baltigo and exits.

Off screen: Cyrus visits Bazel’s grandfather (for plot purposes of Bazel’s).



View user profile

Sponsored content



View previous topic View next topic Back to top  Message [Page 1 of 1]

Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum