Chapter Four: Bounty

A ship slowly drifted through the dark of the night. It's plant-fiber sail and crude construction from both sub-par materials and craftsmanship hidden under the general worn and battered appearance of the vestle.

Yet, for all its battered and half-flooded hull, its patchy sails, its horrid rudder, and general state of disrepair, it did the job.

The sloop drifted through the docks, rudder controlled as it slowly drifted to a port and scrapped on the edge of the dock. A plant fiber rope was hauled out, thrown onto one of the dock lines. The boat was quickly hitched, before a man stepped onto the edge of his boat and hauled himself onto the dock.

He was drenched, first and foremost. Wearing no shoe, worn black sweatpants, t-shirt, and jacket from another world. They were kept in a decent shape for the most part, but the battles they've seen and gone through were all the more obvious.

The young man didn't do anything more to his ship. He didn't secure it, didn't take a damned thing from the boat.

Just walked on and passed a young and sleep deprived man on his way to check with the boat.

"Hey, that, uh, your boat?" The dock-hand asked.

"Mine? That garbage? You out of your mind?" Victor retorted and brushed by the dock-hand, leaving him stupified.

Victor passed through the various check points, either through stealth or guile, not that there were many save eyes and from what they could tell, he just a strange guy getting back to town.

He passed through the docks, and soon entered the main town of...wherever he was.

He tapped on the shoulder of a passerby.

"Hey, what's this town's name?"

"New?"

"Yeah."

"Shellbe, town of shells. Part of the Inok Kingdom."

Victor frowned, "What sea?"

"Uhh, what do you mean?"

"What sea? What blue."

"Oh. Wow. You're quiet far from home, huh kid. South Blue, kiddo."

"Hmm. Thanks. Hey, any clue where a bounty office is?"

"Oh. You a bounty hunter, kid? Quite young for that work, but, who am I to judge. Down the street, take a left, big Berry sign, can't miss it."

"Thanks, again." Victor waved away and started down the street, feet slapping on the stones. The town looked somewhat developed, reminding him of some European towns he'd visited back on Earth. 'Norway, but with a spanish or Arabian twist? Eh, who cares.' The young man shrugged as he soon found the bounty house.

He walked inside and knocked on the desk, not seeing any bells. Soon a groan sounded from the back and started to make its way to the front.

"Yes? What is it, kid?" An old and scarred man asked as he entered from the back.

"I want to register as a bounty hunter, or at least learn how to do it."

"Hmm, register, huh. Well, first you gotta have a deposite down for the registration process. No license, then the Marines will flag you as a Pirate."

Victor frowned at that, being flat broke. "How much?"

"Seventy-Five Thousand."

Victor frowned deeper, before he sighed. "Anything else?"

"Registration form is also a background check. You lie? Gov. gets suspicious."

Victor's frown couldn't go farther. "What if I don't have a background?"

"...Well. That's...where you from kid?"

"Goa Kingdom, Grey Terminal."

"...Shit, East Blue? Far from home, and what's this Grey Terminal?"

"Slum."

"Ah."

"Recomend somewhere I can get a loan?" Victor asked.

The old man's face took on an odd look. "Bank by seventh street. Tell them ol' man Saul sent ya. They'll do yeah right, just don't go asking for no millions."

"I'm asking for a hundred thousand."

"Huh, I could give you that."

Victor rose a brow. "Pay for my registration, and I'll give you a hundred thousand off my next bounty. Deal?" Victor asked.

The old man stroked his beard, before leaning over the counter and holding his hands up. "Give my hands a good punch, gotta see if I'm making a good investment."

Victor punched and the old man shot back, his arm gave an odd 'pop' sound and he let out a aggreived cry.

"Shit! Fuck, kid. You from the Grand-Line? No, who am I kidding, course you are." The old man tensed his shoulder and popped his arm back into place. Victor sweat a little, 'One Piece people are just built different.'

"Okay, kid. I'll spot you your registration. So, go over there and start filling it out." The old man plopped down a few papers. Victor sat down and started filling in the sheet, answering the questions with blase and lazy answers.

The old man gave them a glance, before heading to the back of the shop. He came back with a snail. "This here is a Den Den Mushi, it's already got my number. When you down a target, or spot one, give me a call and I'll patch you to the nearest Bounty Office. You're a Bounty Hunter, now, that means you need to at least pay some lip service to the Office. We take 10% off on all bounties lower than 50 Million, and in exchange, you'll get information sent to you on nearby bounties. The more trusted you are, the more information you'll get from the Office, or your fellow hunters. While most people see bounty hunters as lone-wolves, or blood-thirsty money-hounds, we're a civic duty created to help clean up the seas; even more now with news from Louge Town. Damned Pirate King's execution has turned the seas bloody red with every lad and thug venturing out to find his damned treasure, stealing everything in their path on the way."

Victor gave a nod, filing away that bit of knowledge for the timeline. "Any nearby bounties?"

"Hmm, yeah. We just got a call from the Lighthouse. The Orlan Pirates were sighted, the crew's got a 44 million bounty, with the captain holding a 26 million bounty and the rest spread out through his crew in a smattering of three and four million bounties. You might be from the grandline, but that's quite a high bounty for a new-commer, kiddo."

Victor concidered it, a frown on his face. "I'll take it. Where they at?"

"Likely south shore, there's a good bay there that's not guarded much of all. They might be preparing for a raid or some trouble, so it's good you're here. If you can take them on, that is."

"Dead?" Victor asked.

"Dead." The old man nodded.

"Thanks." Victor took up the bounty paper, inspected the flag, the face, before he headed out.

"...kids gonna go far." The old man rolled his shoulder and went back to bed.

....

Deep within a shadowed cove, pirates were unloading supplies to set up camp.

"Boys! Gather round, we're discussing the game plan!" A lanky man, the quartermaster of this crew shouted. "Grab your pistols and blades too, we're headed out in an hour. They've likely spotted us, or someone's gotten news. Expect resistance."

Two dozen men, all rough and tough men with scars and ugly brutish features cheered. They started grabbing blades and weapons galore, soon joining a crude campfire where their captains shadowed figure sat facing the flame. He was an average man, strong of features, cruel and wild eyes, a shaved bald head. Orlan Wade, swashbuckler, swordsman of some reputation on the South Blue, thief, pirate, and as of recently a pirate captian after a successful mutiny on his old captain.

"We're expecting resistance. Shelle's got a Bounty Office and a small Marine continginte to it, nothing we can't deal with, but they've likely flagged nearby bounty hunters and maybe even the marines." The captain rubbed his stubble.

"Boss, why don't we hit another town, this time with more suprise. It'll be hard going for this target." One of the pirates piped in.

A frown grew on Orlan's face. "We're low on supplies, and from our clash with the Pickpocket Pirates, we've got no Berry." The name drew many scowls and growls from the pirates. The Pickpocket Pirates were a crew of pirates that'd steal and strip any crew down to their underpants if they could catch them off guard. Thankfully for them, it was them who did the catching and amushing, but in the chaos and confusion, the damned thieves stole all their booty! When the Pickpocket Pirates sounded the retreat, it was without a single casualty and all of Orlan's booty.

Humiliating couldn't even hash it, but it was an unfortunate fate that lead them to navigating to the nearest island and needing to raid the damned place. "We won't last the trip to a good target, we'll have to make do." The captian stood, "Now, for our plan..." The pirates gathered around their captain, listening intently on how they'd capture the town and raid it for all its worth.

"...After disabling the guard towers, Oblong, I want you to start a fire in the stables..." The soothing and calm voice of their captain was a balm on the pirate's soul, yet it was interupted by a garbled cough and choaking sound coming from the entrance of the cove.

Two sentries, one dreadfully wounded with a gaping wound on his gut. Black blood dripped out of his mouth and nose, his eyes glassy as he was practically dragged along by his confederate. His intestines dripped out of his stomach, tripping the man carrying him as he started screaming and coughing.

"I-Intruder!" The man shouted.

Where the practically dead man on his shoulders was looking like a cadaver, this man looked like a man who had a foot in the grave. His skin was grey and sallow, his face guant, his eyes haunted, and his side leaking a yellow-red and black puss. "It-its a monster-!" The man was cut off, the man he was carrying by his side leaped up and savaged his friends throat with his mouth. Garbled cries were silence as the creature ripped his face away, carrying away with it his esophagus and throat. Black mist left the creature's mouth, infecting the man, and they both stood stock still, seperating from one another and staring at the crowd of pirates.

There was a tense silence, before the shuffling of foot steps echoed from the cove, the only sound save the background rapids of the cove's cover and the crackling of fire. Several shadowed forms entered the cove entrance, each was just as dead as their confederates. Distended jaws, swollen black tongues, bloated guts, rotting flesh, black blood, and dead eyes stared the pirates down.

"Black...black magic!" One of the men around the campfire muttered, drawing a pistol and firing the armament at the undead. The bullet wasn't placed all too well, but luck carried the pirate in the end. The bullet planted itself directly in one of the undead's eyes, blasting out a chunk of skull as it exited the head. Only for the head to snap back, a white flame spawning where the shot took out its eye. The jaws widened, and a foul scream and howl echoed into the cavern.

"Charge! Charge! Kill these demon spawn!" Orlan screamed, unsheathing his blade and revealing a orante pistol on his hip. The men hurried hoisting weapons and running into the small crowd of undead.

One of the undead hung back, both eyes plucked out and soul flame watching intently. From afar, Victor directed his undead like a puppet master playing with strings.

His undead were soulless creatures, meaning Haki couldn't be spawned from them. He had ideas on how to use Haki with the undead, but that was for far later when he'd developed Armament Haki and his Devil Fruit. While such a lack meant that the creatures were limited in a sense, as they were mindless creatures as well, Victor had been brainstorming a way to utilize this feature to its greatest extent.

Mindless, unfeeling, inexhaustable. These undead were the perfect soldiers, and more than that, theoretically immune to Conqueror's Haki.

While their mindlessness was useful in that sense, these 'mooks' for a lack of a better word had a critical weakness.

They were skill-less chumps.

Stronger than they were in life from his unholy powers, capable of hysterical strength allowing 100% of the body to function at all times, and completely unable to effectively use that hysterical strength without a mind to use it. They were extremely predictible to people even without Observation Haki, which was just sad.

He thought them useless, or at least nothing more than mooks; that is until he discovered two aspects of his Devil Fruit in his experiments on his Island.

Puppetry and Fleshweaving.

Puppetry was just as it sounded, Victor using his mind and will to direct and 'puppet' his minions directly. This was how he built his boat, and how he'd fight these pirates. A wonderful exercise for his Observation Haki and Mind stat, but ultimately taxing on his mental strength. While not needing rest, it got overpowering and at times painful when multitasking the functions and actions of several dozen creatures all at once. A feat that would over time get easier and easier, but a limitation to an otherwise powerful ability. An ability he'd not be able to use in direct combat until he grew more powerful in the Mind and Spirit Stat.

The other power was one that he'd need an education on. Fleshweaving took his powers of undeath and allowed him to manipulate and shape his minion's bodies into greater and more powerful forms. He'd created an extremely crude Chimera using a Tiger's head and a Gorrila body for this practice, and he saw it as a critical part of his Devil Fruit power.

His current puppets were using both powers, although one to a far smaller extent to the other.

He was currently controlling his undead all at the same time, seeing through their eyes and manipulating their bodies in a feat of Devil Fruit empowered Multitasking. With his admittedly pathetic 1.9 Mind Stat, he was relying entirely on his Devil Fruit to carry him in this task, something that users without his system or weren't geniuses would have to do forever.

For his Fleshweaving, well, he was cooking up a suprise inside his Plague Walkers for these pirates.

The fight raged, and what a fight it was.

One might think the pirates of significantly more number, more than twice the undead's would steamroll them. However, the undead didn't feel pain, were physically stronger, more enduring, and wounds they recieved were healed by wounds they created. Their fists were coated in a black slime and mist of Miasma, the black mist leaching life and energy from the pirates as they struggled against the undead.

Blades sunk into flesh only for a mouth to latch onto their face and breath foul miasma into their lungs.

Booms and blasts sounded out in the cave as guns were used, blowing holes into the undead, decapitating a few even.

"Decapitation! Chop the heads! Blow the brains out!" Yelled Orlan as he sniped from behind using his pistol.

Several pirates charged isolated undead, many of the pirates who died in the conflict rising again only to be impales or blasted as they got back up. This included many who were still alive and simply wounded.

The fighting winded down, and what was once a pirate crew of thirty two strong now rested at fourteen men.

"Captain, what...what happened?" A breathy voice of the quartermaster asked as he reloaded his musket.

"Devil Fruit...wait...fuck, this isn't over." The captain muttered, raising his pistol to the cove entrance, only to be greated with one of the undead rising. Its skull was cleaved at its nose, removing everything above its mouth.

"W-ell, d-one, pie-rat." The undead garbled out, throat thick with black phelgum. "ROunD TWo!" The undead rose its arms and the forms around it slowly stood up, their guts bloating and rumbling, green gas leaking out of wounds from their stomachs.

The captain's eyes widened and he leaped to his Quartermaster, tackling the man and diving into the water.

The second they hit a thunderous boom and wet squelch sounded out in the cove, the remaining fourteen men turned into shredded meatbags as bone shrapnal penetrated their body and acidic blood covered their bodies.

"P-posion! Ah!" Yelled a man who spat out yellow phelgum from his mouth as he crawled away, his legs removed from his body.

"He-lp, me." Gurgled another pirate, bone lodged inside his throat.

"Save, me, kami." Begged another as he knelt, praying as he bled to death.

"No! I don't want to die." Screamed another as he melted from poison blood and inhaled toxic air.

"Yahahaha! Yahahahaha!" A haunting laughter echoed into the cove, a deep inhale was taken as the man took in a deep breath. "Biological Warfare, made stupid simple." A three meter tall skeleton took in a deep breath, savoring the air of suffering. "Wonderful, Subarashii. What wonderful experience, yet, it I haven't taken it all, have I?"

Twin horns and white ghostly eyes tilted down to stare at two men who just surfaced from the water. The captain and quartermaster both looked at the scene with horror in their eyes, only for their gaze to be taken up by a massive towering skeleton that looked down upon their soaked forms. "Two wet dogs greet their Unmaker, are you ready to meet the Maker?" The skeleton asked, a ghostly black mist rising up from his hand.

The pirate captain surged forwrad, red in his vision as he unsheathed his blade in an exceptional display of a draw-cut. The man was fast, yet Victor wasn't a foe that a man from a weak sea could face.

"Slow. Predictible, laughable." The uncaring voice of the monster stated, bending in a profane fashion as its disjointed arm bent and locked in a exotic manner only possible by its unique physiology. The lich cleared the thrust, only the edge of his robes being caught in the attack and planted his hand firmly on the face of the captain. The man screamed, his face rotting and wilting under the grip of the Lich.

"Oh, we can't have that, can we? They need to at least tell it's you, Orlan." His left hand wrapped around the captain's neck, the man's feet kicking wildly into a billowy robe that seemed to swallow his attacks in futility.

"Now, rest, dear captain. Rest, join that sweet night. Join Grandfather Nurgle in the sweet release of Death." The lich whispered, only for a bang to sound out.

The lich's head tilted, one of his horns scuffed and his crown askew and marked by the round. "Tisk, tisk. Silly quartermaster. I thought mortals knew when to bow before their masters?" The lich asked, "No matter, you will know. You all will." He whispered, and with a flex of his hand the captain's neck snapped. A hand joined the man's shoulder, and with a harsh twist and pull, the entire spine was removed from the man's body. Blood left to gush out on the already soiled stones of the cove.

"Now, scream for me." The lich smiled down at the despairing quartermaster.