The roar of the crowd rolled across Racket Ring Island like a living wave.
Pirates packed the broken stands, the ruined balconies, the leaning watchtowers, and every sturdy piece of rock they could climb on. Betting slips changed hands at terrifying speed. Bottles clinked. Coins rang. A pair of loudmouth gamblers were already shoving each other over odds before the first event had even begun.
At the center of it all stood the painted rule board of the Davy Back Fight.
Bright red letters.
Sloppy white paint.
Huge arrows pointing toward the coast.
The announcer leapt back onto his raised platform, nearly kicked his own loudspeaker over, then recovered with a flourish that suggested the near-disaster had been part of the act all along.
"WE BEGIN NOW WITH THE FIRST ROUND OF TODAY'S DAVY BACK FIGHT!"
Another explosion of noise.
On one side stood the Marauder Claw Pirates, massive in number, ugly in confidence, and already carrying themselves like they had won. On the other stood the much smaller group of the Red-Haired Pirates, who looked almost offensively relaxed in comparison.
Giovanni stood with his arms folded, eyes sweeping over the coast ahead.
The arena for the first game was a ruined crescent of shoreline just below the main island ridge.
Broken stone stairs led down to it.
A cluster of half-collapsed military watchtowers leaned at bad angles over the water.
Old crates were scattered everywhere.
Fishing nets hung from poles and shattered beams.
And beyond the coastline, floating in the bay, were huge numbered targets bobbing up and down with the tide.
Some were near.
Some were much farther out.
All of them moved.
The announcer spun on his heel and pointed.
"ROUND ONE!"
He sucked in a dramatic breath.
"CANNONBALL SCRAMBLE!"
The crowd stomped and shouted.
Shanks grinned immediately.
"Oh, that sounds fun."
Beckman gave him a flat look. "That sentence usually means I'm about to work harder than I wanted."
The announcer continued.
"This is a ship-and-shore relay game! The two crews will compete to gather marked cannonballs hidden all across the coastal ruins and fire them into the floating numbered targets in the bay!"
He pointed toward the targets again.
"Each target is worth the number painted on it!"
A huge board was flipped around by two assistants.
It showed the required score in giant crooked letters:
25 POINTS TO WIN
Giovanni's eyes lit up.
"So it's a race and a shooting game."
Lucky Roo, still eating because of course he was, nodded. "And a carrying game."
The announcer pointed down at the arena.
"The cannonballs are hidden in crates, shallow water, hanging nets, and collapsing watchtowers! Some are real!"
He raised one finger.
"And some are traps!"
That got a louder reaction from the crowd.
"Fake cannonballs may burst into paint, smoke, flour, stink clouds, or other surprises depending on the mood of the island and the quality of the crew hosting the event!"
Giovanni blinked.
"…That sounds stupid."
Shanks laughed. "That sounds amazing."
The announcer kept going.
"Each participating crew may field five members! They may split roles however they wish. Finders, runners, loaders, shooters, defenders! But no outside help from non-participants!"
He pointed toward a pair of old cannons positioned at the edge of the coast.
"Once a cannonball is found, it must be brought to your team cannon, loaded, and fired into the floating target field! First crew to reach 25 points wins the round!"
He paused, then grinned like a shark.
"And as always on Racket Ring Island. Dirty tricks are encouraged… as long as they're funny!"
The crowd howled.
Giovanni stared blankly.
"This island is morally sick."
Limejuice folded his arms. "And yet you like it."
"I didn't say I dislike it."
Shanks leaned forward with sparkling eyes. "Okay. I'm in."
Beckman sighed. "Of course you are."
The announcer called for captains to submit their five participants.
Dorga "Ironjaw" Bale turned toward his crew first, already smirking.
"Round team!"
Five pirates stepped out from the Marauder Claw side.
They moved with the confidence of men who had done this sort of thing before.
The first was a scar-faced brute with a thick neck and long arms like ship cables.
The second was a narrow-faced woman with braided hair and sea charts tucked into her belt. A navigator by the look of her.
The third was a twitchy little man with tinted goggles and pouches hanging from every part of his coat. Chemist. Obviously.
The fourth was a wiry acrobat in a sleeveless striped shirt who kept flipping his knife between his fingers for no reason except to be irritating.
The fifth was a broad-shouldered cannonman with powder burns on both hands and the kind of grin that only appeared on men who truly enjoyed loud explosions.
The crowd began chanting as the team lined up.
"IRON JACKALS! IRON JACKALS! IRON JACKALS!"
Giovanni tilted his head.
"That's their game squad?"
Beckman nodded once. "Looks like it."
Dorga spread his arms proudly.
"The Iron Jackals don't lose opening rounds!"
That drew a loud reaction from his crew.
Then all eyes shifted to the Red-Haired Pirates.
Shanks scratched the side of his head and looked at his own people.
"Alright then… who wants in?"
Giovanni stepped forward instantly.
"Me."
Lucky Roo raised his chicken bone like a weapon.
"Me too."
Shanks pointed at both of them. "Done."
Beckman took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly. "You'll need somebody who can actually hit the targets."
Giovanni turned toward him.
"…That sounded personal."
"It was."
Shanks grinned and pointed.
"Beckman's in."
Building Snake adjusted his coat slightly. "You'll need someone to read target drift."
Shanks snapped his fingers.
"Right. Snake too."
That gave them four.
All of them turned toward the remaining options.
Limejuice lifted one hand lazily. "Before anyone says my name, I'd like to formally decline."
"Too late," Shanks said immediately.
Limejuice' eye twitched. "You didn't even hear my full refusal."
Shanks pointed at him dramatically.
"Limejuice is in."
Limejuice stared at him.
Then at the crowd.
Then at the ruined coastline.
Then back at Shanks.
"…I hate you."
Shanks laughed.
The final Red-Haired lineup stood clear:
Shanks, Giovanni, Lucky Roo, Benn Beckman and Building Snake
Limejuice blinked.
Then slowly looked around.
"…Wait."
Giovanni grinned.
"You got baited."
Lucky Roo laughed so hard he nearly choked.
Beckman smirked faintly.
Shanks held his stomach. "That was worth it."
Limejuice pointed at him. "One day I'm going to kill you."
Shanks wiped a tear from his eye. "You can try."
As both teams moved toward the starting line, Beckman finally got serious.
He crouched and drew a rough map in the sand with the butt of his pistol.
"Listen carefully."
Everyone leaned in.
"The targets drift with the tide. Snake, you call target movement."
Building Snake nodded. "Got it."
"Roo," Beckman continued, "you carry. Real balls only. If it's heavy, awkward, or buried, it's yours."
Lucky Roo cracked his neck. "Easy."
"Giovanni," Beckman said, looking up at him, "you're the fastest. I want you scouting ahead, grabbing anything real, and staying out of the traps."
Giovanni grinned.
"So basically, be brilliant."
"Try not to be stupid."
"That too."
Beckman pointed at Shanks.
"You're disruption."
Shanks smiled. "My specialty."
"You slow their team down, interfere when needed, and help wherever the opening appears."
Then Beckman tapped his own chest.
"I'll handle loading and shots."
Lucky Roo chewed thoughtfully. "You sure you don't want Shanks shooting?"
"No," Beckman said flatly. "I like winning."
Shanks placed a hand over his heart. "The disrespect."
Across the way, the Iron Jackals were also huddled together.
Their navigator pointed toward the bobbing targets in the bay, clearly explaining drift patterns.
Their chemist dusted several cannon grips and crate handles with something pale and powdery.
Their acrobat kept miming ridiculous taunts toward the Red-Haired side.
Giovanni saw him and frowned.
"I already hate that guy."
Shanks nodded. "Same."
---
A huge gong was rolled out.
The announcer climbed up onto a broken watchtower platform and raised both arms.
"CREWS TO POSITION!"
The teams spread out.
The Red-Haired cannon sat on the right side of the shoreline, half-buried in old fort stone but still functional.
The Iron Jackals' cannon sat opposite them near the remains of a broken fish market tower.
The crowd leaned forward as one.
The bay glimmered.
The targets bobbed.
The wind shifted.
The announcer raised the flag.
"ROUND ONE!"
He brought it down.
"BEGIN!"
The coastline erupted into motion.
Giovanni shot forward first.
He moved like a released arrow, boots barely touching the ground as he vaulted a collapsed crate pile and landed on a tilted beam. The acrobat from the Iron Jackals matched him with an exaggerated front flip and a loud cackle.
"You're too slow, blondie!"
Giovanni didn't even look at him.
"Then why are you still talking behind me?"
The acrobat's grin vanished for half a second.
Lucky Roo charged straight into a stack of ruined supply crates and began ripping them apart one-handed, splinters flying everywhere. Shanks sprinted left across the shallow waterline, laughing as he went, while Building Snake stopped near a high section of broken stone to get an elevated view of the tide and targets.
Beckman remained at the cannon, one eye on the bay and one on his crew.
"Snake!"
Building Snake looked out and called immediately, "Target three drifting east! Target five is slowing near the reef line!"
"Good."
On the other side, the Iron Jackals' navigator was doing the same thing.
"Left current! Three-point shot drifting inward!"
Their cannonman was already loading.
Fast.
Boom.
The first shot fired.
The cannonball sailed across the bay and hit Target 3 dead-on.
The crowd exploded.
"THREE POINTS TO THE IRON JACKALS!"
Dorga threw both arms up.
The Marauder Claw Pirates roared.
Giovanni, meanwhile, had already reached the first hidden stash.
Three cannonballs hung in fishing nets beneath a collapsed watchtower frame.
He landed on the beam, cut one free with a smooth flick—
And the ball exploded in a cloud of bright pink paint.
Giovanni vanished into it.
The crowd burst out laughing.
When the paint cleared, he stood there dripping in pink from shoulder to boot.
Shanks saw it from across the ruins and laughed so hard he almost missed the cannonball hidden under a shallow sand pit.
"GIO! You look amazing!"
Giovanni slowly turned his head.
"I'm going to kill you Shanks."
Lucky Roo shouted from the crates, "Find a real one first!"
The second and third balls in the nets were both real. Giovanni dropped them to the ground below where Lucky Roo arrived a second later, caught one under each arm, and ran them back toward Beckman like a charging war beast.
At the cannon, Beckman tested the grip.
His hand came away dusted with something slick.
"…Powder."
He clicked his tongue, pulled a cloth from his coat, wiped the grip clean, and loaded the first ball himself.
"So that's their game."
Across the arena, the chemist smirked.
The Iron Jackals were exactly what their reputation suggested.
They wasted time with fake cannonballs.
Their navigator called target drift with sharp precision.
Their chemist sabotaged whatever surfaces he could reach.
And their acrobat never stopped moving, taunting, flipping, and deliberately drawing eyes with ridiculous theatrics.
But even with all that—
The Red-Haired Pirates were still dominating the field.
Shanks had already found two hidden caches by pure instinct and shameless luck, one under a fish barrel, another in the rafters of a broken snack stand. He tossed both down to Lucky Roo, who gathered them like they weighed nothing.
Giovanni, still partially pink, blurred through the collapsing watchtower structure and avoided another fake ball that burst into stink smoke the moment the acrobat touched it.
The crowd howled again as the acrobat stumbled out gagging.
Giovanni pointed at him.
"That's what you get for being annoying!"
Building Snake's voice cut through the noise.
"Beckman! Target five drifting into clear angle in three… two… now!"
Boom.
Beckman fired.
The shot crossed the bay and smashed into Target 5.
The crowd erupted even louder this time.
"FIVE POINTS TO THE RED-HAIRED PIRATES!"
Shanks punched the air. "There we go!"
Lucky Roo dropped another cannonball beside Beckman with a heavy thud.
Giovanni landed next to them, pink paint still streaked across his coat, carrying one under his arm.
Beckman loaded again without wasting a second.
On the far side, the Iron Jackals were still pressing, still cheating, still shouting—
But the Red-Haired Pirates were smiling.
Because even in a game filled with traps, drift, noise, and dirty tricks—
They looked like they were just getting started.
---
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