Only a Man

Devereux checked her delicate parcels to make sure the food was still hot and undisturbed, before she continued around the corner of the massive building and slipped into the wide open gargantuan sized doors completely unnoticed. The whole shop was unnaturally quiet, but the entirety of the building was beyond impressive.

“Knock, knock. You fellas home?” Devereux called out loudly, her hands cupped around her mouth to make her voice travel farther. When nothing stirred but the salty breeze she carefully set the food bag onto the floor. She wet her lips, placed her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle that not even the dead could ignore.

“Food delivery!” She then yelled at the top of her lungs, knowing they couldn’t continue to disregard her presence now.

“Yon, Val!” A loud male voice called out in greeting as at least twenty bodies made themselves known from the dark shadows of the shop.

“Hiya Benny-boy,” She greeted back with a playfully smug smile as the stout older man made his way over to her.

“You’re right on time girlie, we’ve been starvin’ here.” Another of the many oil, sweat and grime covered males called out with a deep laugh.

“Pshaw!” She waved the comment off with her free hand, her stance wide and braced, yet completely at ease. “Like that’ll happen, you fellas got more meat on your bones than a whale.” Devereux grinned cheekily as she handed over the heavy bag of food and a round of raucous laughter followed her comment.

“That cranky old badger finally got you workin’ for him fulltime, huh.” Benny stated as he pulled out his boxed meal and passed the bag off to the rest of the workers, who dove into the bag like a pack of starved wolves. Devereux hummed in confirmation, suddenly noticing the new addition to the shipyard’s many looming occupants.

“Ah, noticed that one did you?” Benny gave a deep belly laugh when he noticed that Devereux’s attention was diverted.

She was eying the strange new ship with a thoughtful frown on her lips. It was extremely rare to see a submarine, and even rarer to see one with a mast and a Jolly Roger; a North Blue Jolly Roger at that. Abruptly Devereux spun around on her heel, her expression a mix of hopeful delight and calculating worry.

“When did she come in? How long will she be here? Where’s her crew now?” She questioned quickly with a determined expression.

“Hold yer horses Val; I can only answer one question at a time, now settle and take a seat.” The solid man ordered pushing an upturned bucket in her direction with a large boot clad foot. Devereux bit her bottom lip in a clear sign of impatience, but took the offered seat regardless.

Benny swallowed a big bite of his meal before answering her first question. “Now, she came in about twenty to twenty-five minutes or so ago. The crew stayed with her for a while, but then they decided to go get some grub.”

Devereux nodded her head thinking that she had probably just missed them. If she hadn’t taken the shortcut then she probably would have run right into them. ‘Damn, my luck is slipping.’ Her eyes narrowed at the thought. She had a reputation for being notoriously lucky, according to the Marines. But then again, they were much easier to fool than another pirate. She however, firmly believed that her so-called luck drifted more so to the unlucky side.

“She’ll be here for a week at most, probably less. It all depends on the severity of the damage really.” Benny’s musing voice broke Devereux out of her drifting train of thoughts. Devereux slowly smiled, the action making her look almost predatory. She stood to her feet slowly, stretching her tense muscles.

“Thanks, Benny. I’ll be seein’ ya!” She waved to the rest of the guys before unhurriedly walking out of the building.

When she was completely out of sight, Benny turned his dark gaze to the submarine and eyed the unique Jolly Roger for a moment before he shook his head knowingly. That girl had an idea brewing in that clever noggin of hers and he was certain that it was a particularly reckless one.

“Ain’t you gonna try to stop her? That ain’t the kind of pirate Val needs to be hitching up with for any amount of time.” The man who had previously made the starving comment spoke up, his rugged features coldly set and determined.

Benny frowned and rolled his tongue against the roof of his mouth remembering the smug, challenging face of the young captain that left the sub not even thirty minutes ago. The boy was undeniably dangerous, anyone with half a lick of commonsense could see that, but that girl was determined and she could take well enough care of herself.

Benny once again shook his head, this time almost regretfully. It couldn’t be helped. Nothing short of being sent to Davy Jones’ Locker could stop her and even then, she’d fight against fate itself to get her way.

“No.” He stated darkly, his gaze finally leaving the unusual ship to turn to the rest of his now retired crew. Every single one of his men shared the same look as his trusted first mate. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ and neither are you, any of you.” He told them sternly as an order they wouldn’t break. “That girl knows how to take care of herself Quinn and as you very well know, she’s boarded with nastier cutthroats than that boy.”

Wystan Quinn snorted, his lips twisting into a vicious sneer at the mere mention of Val’s previous poorly chosen choice of captain and crew. “Yeah, and look where that got her!” He retorted hotly throwing up his calloused hands, palms skyward.

Benny heaved a great sigh but remained unruffled by the disrespect, he was used to his hotheaded first mate’s ways by now. “And what’s yer point?” Benny grunted, taking a large bite out of his food.

“My point…” Quinn slowly trailed off in disbelief, before puffing himself up with a hissing intake of air. “My point, captain, is that she had to jump overboard in order to keep her head with the last captain, and this one ain’t no better! If anything he’s worse!” Quinn barked. “If that crazy old codger Bressal hadn’t been out fishin’ for Sea Kings and found her floatin’ half unconscious just beyond the Brigandine Lagoon she would have surely drowned!”

Having finally heard enough, Benny turned to face his seething first mate, who had sucked in a deep breath and had his mouth half opened, ready to let out another long winded tirade. Quinn immediately snapped his mouth shut when he saw the expression on his captain’s face.

“I know, Quinn. I know.” Benny answered with surprising calm. “We’ve no right to stop her. She’s a grown woman and can make her own damned decisions, whether they be good or bad.” Those hauntingly truthful words pulled the first mate up short.

“Besides,” Benny gave a dark, humorless grin. “There are worse pirates she could fall in with.”

Quinn raised a half questioning, half mocking eyebrow and asked, “Worse than the North Blue’s infamous ‘Surgeon of Death’, Trafalgar Law?”

Benny paused truly thinking over Quinn’s words. His gaze once again fell on the Heart Pirates Jolly Roger and the smiley symbol that greatly resembled a virus strain. After a lengthy silence, the retired captain answered. His crew stared after him in disbelief as he ambled off back into the darkness, his final words ringing through their ears in a lingering echo.

“Yes boys, there most certainly is; several of them in fact.”



Devereux made it back to The Lazy Harpooner in record time, due a sudden burst of joyful energy that she couldn’t quite keep contained. Just before she reached the bar she slowed down a little and ran her hands through her hair a couple times in an attempt to tame her silken, wind-whipped mane.

She pushed open the doors with eyes sparkling and a too wide devil-may-care grin plastered on her lips. Her abrupt entrance startled the rather large group of new comers, while the islanders just raised their glasses in recognition and greeting, already used to Devereux’s antics.

“What you got for me this time, Hardin?” She asked in a playfully cocky tone as she slid up to the bar a couple seats away from where the unamused cook was standing. She didn’t want to heighten her risk of having something sharp thrown at her and having nothing to duck behind.

Hardin grunted and passed four full plates down to her. His words were gruff and short. “Table eight. Seats twelve, two, seven and nine.” Devereux nodded with a smile, understanding exactly which plates went to whom, despite not taking the individual orders.

“Good evening, gents.” She greeted the group with a pleasant smile, expertly slipping the plates from her arm and onto the table with practiced ease. Some of the men nodded back to her in greeting while the others remained as they were, stuffing as much food as possible down their gullets.

She wasn’t discouraged, they were pirates after all. She knew they had to be the crew of the submarine because there were so many unfamiliar faces and she made it a priority to know everyone on the island. While they were a bit unusual in appearance, they weren’t the oddest group of miscreants she had even been acquainted with. Unfortunately, she couldn’t pinpoint which of them could have been the captain.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She asked with a customary million-watt waitress smile. A series of head shakes and noncommittal grunts followed and she left them with another smile. They certainly weren’t a very talkative bunch, but they were not particularly unfriendly either. It was a good sign.

She sauntered up to the bar once again and plopped down onto her customary stool and silently watched the group of pirates through the reflective glass on the wall across from her, observing their actions and hoping to catch a glimpse of their captain or at least the first mate. After a short while she motioned for Hardin and ordered another banana Popsicle with a disarming smile. The cook rolled his eyes at her somewhat faux innocence, but brought her the frozen snack anyway.

Devereux paid for it up front and grabbed a nearby newspaper in order to keep herself occupied for the time being. She popped the sweet, cold fruity snack into her mouth as she opened the paper and began to read the newest gossip from all over the sea. After reading a particularly interesting headline, she slipped the frozen yellow treat out of her mouth with a near silent ‘pop’.

“Hey, Hardin, have you read this yet?” She asked lowly, a hint of something dark touching at her otherwise composed tone. The old cook glanced up, catching her dangerously narrowed gaze and gave only a low grunt of confirmation.

He watched on grimly as the corner of her mouth twitched from pent up anger, before her gaze dropped back to the paper. Her lips moved forming vulgar curses, but not a sound escaped her. Hardin’s frown deepened making his wrinkles and old battle wounds stand out more severely. His expression was particularly scary and would have quickly reminded others that once, several years past, he was a particularly cutthroat pirate.

After a few minutes Devereux gave her last sneer at the printed words and agitatedly flipped the page no longer wishing to read about the Marines latest exploits, her expression and mood suddenly brightening as if someone had flipped a switch. Hardin shook his head at her tempest like change of temperament and turned to go into the kitchen for a brief moment.

Devereux was so engrossed in her reading and trying to forget the bold headline that she completely missed the brief pausing of four unusual newcomers and the submarine Captain she had been looking for, just outside of the bar’s doors.



Trafalgar Law had decided to take his time while strolling through the town of Deception. The town itself was quite impressive, and not as boring as he had previously thought it would be. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin were the ones he had decided to have accompany him on his jaunt, while the rest of the crew went off to find a good place to fill their palates. Had they stopped at a different island he would have made most of the crew stay with the ship, just in case a complication popped up.

However this place was unlike any other they had previously visited, or probably ever would again. One could drop a load of precious jewels, silver and gold in the middle of the street and no one would even think to take it. On this Island the locals were more likely to call after the person who had lost the treasure and return it to them than to take it as their own. It was amusing really, and yet, also quite sad. In a town full of previously cutthroat pirates, retired or not, not one of them would cheat, steal or lie to the other, at least not about anything too serious.

It appeared to be an unspoken rule among the islanders and that rule passed on to any who happened to be passing through or settle down. He knew that he and his companions had to stand out among the crowd, for several reasons, however other than a small group of children, mostly dirt covered young boys with a few missing front teeth, openly gawking at Bepo and the hefty nodachi slung casually over Law’s shoulder, no one had made any motion that their sudden presence on the island was odd in the slightest.

He and his three companions had quickly located their missing crewmates; it wasn’t particularly difficult due to their boisterousness, although it was rather accidentally. He had only meant to peak in on them for a moment to make sure they weren’t causing any trouble with the locals when something, rather someone from inside the bar drew his attention away.

What he guessed to be a young woman sat at the bar, her back exposed to the doors, and a yellow half-eaten Popsicle held loosely in one hand. From what little he could see of her features, he noticed she had an amused grin on her quirked lips as she read the paper. A booted foot restlessly tapped away to a fast rhythmic beat that only she could hear while her head lightly bobbed along with the muted tune.

He guessed that she was of average height from the way she was hunched over the bar and of average weight with a healthy peachy-hued complexion and unusual cream-blonde colored hair that fell loosely down to her elbows. Since her face was half-turned away from him, he couldn’t catch all of her features. However, from what he could see, he knew his first assumption to be correct, as she looked to be in her early twenties, but her eyes were still hidden from his view.

There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn’t seem place the origin of her likeness. The blonde haired woman absentmindedly brushed her hair back with her free hand and tilted her head sideways to get a closer look at the paper, unknowingly flashing the nape of her smooth neck to the crowd and revealing a previously, well-hidden tattoo. Before narrowed storm grey eyes could make out exactly what the tattoo was, beyond a mere flash of color, her hair fell loose from its tentative hold and re-covered her neck.

Having dallied longer than was necessary and despite the nagging feeling in his gut warning him that he should know that tattoo’s origin and her face, Law decided to move on. His thoughts were already drifting to other, more important things. Bepo, having little to no interest in human females immediately followed after his Captain unquestioningly. The two human crewmates curiously glanced back at the female who had caught their Captain’s interest, if only for a moment. They stared a moment longer before turning to each other and sharing a short questioning look, before simultaneously shrugging if off and jogging hurriedly after their retreating crewmates.



Devereux felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in warning. She subtly shifted to glance over her shoulder, towards the entrance, but she only managed to catch sight of quickly retreating shadows and not their owners.

‘That’s strange,’ she mused to herself as her thoughts started to drift to a dark place. Lucky was she? Hah, not at all; the Marines were just inept. Out of habit, she bit the inside of her cheek in question and her gaze narrowed at the doorway thoughtfully.

The intensity of the stare reminded her of a hunting Marine’s out for blood, but not quite. It wasn’t hateful, just intensely probing, although it was still reasonably unsettling. A part of her wanted to think it was nothing, but she knew better and she was no fool.

Her well-honed instincts and training told her to say on alert while whoever had watched her was still on the island. Unfortunately, she didn’t know what her watchers looked like or what gender they were. Guessing would only get her so far, so for now, she would have to be extra careful in her actions and keep a watchful eye out.