"Black Wolf" Coyote
Earlier that day...It was a beautiful day on the East Blue. The sun was shining, a few gulls darted around overhead, barely a cloud hung in the sky... and a lone dinghy swayed across the waves, heading nowhere in particular. At first glance, the rowboat looked abandoned...
"Hast du etwas Zeit für mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von 99 Luftballons
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont..."...Until you got close enough to hear its occupant.
"Denkst du vielleicht g'rad an mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von 99 Luftballons
Und dass so was von so was kommt..."The lyrics themselves didn't make much sense, even translated into common tongue. His family had carried the tune with them through the centuries since their founding, and possibly before, so certain parts of the song flew over one's head. The occupant didn't know why he was singing it in the first place, except for the fact that it was a bouncy, jaunty sort of tune, it put a smile on his face, and his singing voice wasn't half bad. So...
"99 Luftballons
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont
Hielt man für Ufos aus dem All
Darum schickte ein General..."...He would continue.
"'ne Fliegerstaffel hinterher
Alarm zu geben, wenn es so wär
Dabei war'n da am Horizo--"BOOM.
...
Grimm D. Coyote opened his eyes, and sat bolt upright, looking just off of the "stern" of his makeshift transportation at the churning, splashing water, just recently disturbed by what... sounded like...
He frowned, looking down at the blackness pooling at his feet.
"Crow? Am I crazy, or did that sound like--"BOOM.
Coyote whipped his head around, this time looking across his "bow," at the second splash that had interrupted his leisurely cruise. He sighed.
"...Cannon fire. Oh, boy."He stood in his rickety little dinghy, with barely a rock of the boat, dusting off imagined particles from the seat of his pants as he scanned the horizon. Sure enough, there it was, some kind of... hm. It wasn't a Marine vessel- that much was clear, even from this distance. Not to mention, they'd never fire on such a tiny civilian craft. And no black sails or Jolly Roger ruled out pirates, out on a joyride. Which just left... bounty hunters. Out on a joyride. Probably.
Pretty stupid bounty hunters, if they're just playing with a cannon this close to a port. At least... I think there's a port nearby...? Hard to say, really, I haven't been paying that much attention to where I'm--A flash of light from the boat. Coyote blanched as Crow launched itself into the air.
"Oh, sh--"BOOM!!
"Hah!" The sailor manning the cannon grinned viciously as he saw the dinghy go up in a plume of water and splinters. "Told ya I could hit it! Pay up!"
In lieu of payment, his captain quickly delivered a stinging slap upside the gunner's head. "Fat chance. You said on the first shot. I counted three. That's two fuckups more than you promised, yer not getting jack."
The sailor grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "Psh. I'd like to see you do better."
"There's no more rowboat, you idiot. And I'm not wasting another cannonball on picking off twerps. Those two extra shots are coming out of your cut, by the way."
"WHAT??"
"It's yer own damn fault, ya moron! You're the one who screwed up two piss-easy shots 'cause you wanted to go swatting flies with a
cannon. Use your common sense!"
"Not to mention, he interrupted my song.""Right, right, that too, thank you. Now--"
Gunner and captain froze, as did every present hand on the gun deck, at the sudden, unfamiliar voice. Slowly, ever so slowly, they turned to see a slim young man wearing a mask, standing where there was no one mere seconds ago, with a sharp-edged smile gracing his face.
"Hello," the man said with deceptive calmness, cracking his knuckles.
"Forgive the intrusion, but your crew seems to have done me a... disrespect." The smile turned sharper.
"I am here to negotiate... restitution."The captain gulped.
Presently...Coyote waved jauntily to the crew as they pulled out of the harbor as fast as their sails could pull, working as hard and fast as they could through their myriad of new scratches, gashes, bruises and contusions. The gunner, currently sporting both eyes in a stylish black, yelped and limped belowdecks, as Coyote turned toward the town he now found himself in.
So. My new friends said this was Brown Islands, or some such. Popular with legally-challenged people like myself. I suppose my preparations are somewhat unnecessary, then, he thought, rubbing his short stubble. He'd spent his time on the last island changing his appearance, to resemble his wanted poster as little as possible- short beard, shaved. Shoulder-length hair, now a shorter, more stylish cut. Dark blue glasses, ditched for a mask over his eyes, though he kept those in a pocket of his coat- he had some standards, after all. And they looked cool, anyway. Maybe if he managed to get over into the Grand Line, he'd put the glasses back on. Or maybe he'd keep the mask. It was a toss-up.
Surreptitiously, at his feet, a vague face emerged from his shadow, seemingly wiggling to get his attention. He raised an eyebrow.
"...And what exactly was I supposed to do? Just let them get away with disrespect?" The last syllable was bitten off with a sound like a pistol shot. The shadow wiggled again. Coyote sighed.
"Be that as it may, they needed to be taught a lesson. They can't just shoot random civilians for fun. What if it was someone other than us?"Wiggle."All right, all right, you've made your point. But I stand by my actions. If only because I can't go back and change any of it, so it's a moot point." He looked around the port, tapping his foot.
"Now, come on. We need to find a ship, because I am not trying to Schwarzer Reiter over the Red Line again," he said, shuddering at the memory as he walked along the boardwalk, trying to decide on who might be able to fulfill his needs for transportation.
