New Beginnings - (O) Need Crew Members

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

This was the ultimate sensation, a feeling of freedom in the seas had made him one of the more happy individuals around. It had also been two days since he set sail from his original home. This had been a good feeling, no more having to go through the harsh training styles of his fathers overbearing nature, and more of his own time. Luckily, it was just a matter of time, he needed a crew after all.

The town he seemed to be placed within was basically one of a large resort. With its palm trees and sandy beaches, it didn't seem like a bad place to be at all. He was sort of surprised anyway, taking the toll of his traveling, knocking down a few creatures as he ran through the streams; what were they called? Sea Kings... he had just met one on his way, looking for a snack to devour. He used a simple punch, and batted it away from actually eating him in a sudden notion. If they were Sea Kings, why was that one so weak...

Anyway, he made his footsteps going through the sandy beach after weighing anchor, the town seemed to be even better than his old home. It had a lot of space, less rugged and with far less expansive buildings after all. He needed a place to go, watching around the place with a small smirk on his face. He saw a bar, and thought to get rid of some of the boredom he had, misplaced aggressions of his own fighting spirit.

Kicking open the bar door, with his hands in his pockets, he laughed. "Yo, dumbasses, hows it going?!" His rowdiness picked up a few loose eyes, making it seem as if he caused something much bigger than a sound riot. Glares stationed right on him as he gave them a look of pleasing nature. He would take up his hands, and shrug with a bit of laughter through his voice. He was amused as they would stand, starting to express their views towards his rude nature.

"OK, if you all think that, I'll be happy to give you a bit of pleasing with kicking my ass, what do ya say?" His eyes would flash, as they began to laugh, the following of which would create a merry group of men laughing at his efforts to get into a fight seeing him as a kid. One man actually started to walk towards him, placing a hand across his shoulder, or almost it would seem. The punch with fly at an incredible speed towards his face. Sending him flying with a single powerful punch as he crashed into a wall.

He started to crack his fists as he watched them, they were in a dumbstruck form. The fact that he had such a powerful punch made it known, he was no ordinary kid. The group would rise to the occasion, every person but a few people would grit their teeth and charge towards him. His fists were now in an angle underneath his face, and his chin, his teeth in a larger than life smile.

"Well then, lets get this party started!"

[Emma T. Baskerville]

[ooc: Don't expect to be able to recruit Red, he's something of a loner.]

Red had fallen asleep in the gutter. Again.

Yawning, the swordsman scratched at his arms as he woke. Blinking blearily he looked around himself. He vaguely recalled this alleyway, the brick had been laid with a particular style that he had been somewhat interested in. At some point he'd asked someone about it but hadn't gotten any straight answers. Examining himself, he quickly went through the checklist of usual suspects. Hm. Swords, check. Clothes, check. Arms, legs, head... check. Running his tongue around his mouth he noticed that it seemed like he even had all his teeth.

Huh, another day survived.

How... normal.

Yawning again, Red stretched. The sun hit the back of his head, filtering through his straw sakat before hitting his neck. He was under the vague impression that it was the afternoon although it might have been the morning or even evening. He really was getting old: days were starting to flow into one another. Even days as varied and different as the ones he went through. Carefully putting the pink, flowery kimono that he had stowed close to his heart to keep it safe, on his shoulders he got to his feet.

It was about then someone went through a window and nearly landed on him, the force of the blow propelling the poor sod nearly twenty feet in a direction that he probably hadn't wanted to be traveling in. Blinking in bemusement Red's gaze switched over to the building that the guy had exited from.

Ah. Another bar fight. Figured. Now that his brains were unscrambling he could hear the participants, flaying away at each with terrible, joyful abandon. Some of the voices in there sounded terribly young but this was an age where women participated as gleefully in slaughter as men did and it was getting harder and harder to distinguish between the young boys and the women, at least from vocal hints alone. Perhaps others had a trick to it; Red definitely did not.

Sighing, Red shrugged his shoulders. Barfights really weren't his concern. He had other places to be, things to do, and...

Wait. Why was a kid walking into that bar?

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

The smashing of his fist into another head came with the clench of his fist and a large smirk on his face. The impending sounds of screams and powerful yells of fear from his power. Smirking, starting to laugh, he positioned his foot over the head of someone who had thought they destroyed him with their own assault. His own right cheek, left arm, and shirt was ripped and or bleeding from the assault using weapons.

It lasted, the void of battle filled for him if only for a while. His arm started to move in a winding motion, as the barkeep watched him, growling. He would begin to release the angry screams that came with the territory. He grasped his neck and began moving towards the door, the untamed body count that led into a walking death sentence. "Yeah yeah, I heard ya..."

He wouldn't falter from his way of doing things, he wouldn't of been able to go into a bar anyway, because they served liquor and he didn't drink much liquor. However, bar fights were good for testing out your reflexes, and trying to scope out the talent. Finding a good second-in-command was one of his needs right now. His "Champion", but he didn't find anything in that place, yeah some people got him, but it was because of sneak attacking and underhanded trickery.

He stood on the beach with his hands in pocket, and his eyes forward across the sea. He was becoming a bit hungry, his stomach growling loudly. Rummaging through his pockets, he would begin to search for money... maybe he should do some extra work around the place to gain more. He also needed storage and supplies, damn he may need to stay in Baterilla for a moments notice and take up odd jobs. That would be one of the better things, maybe than he maybe could find someone applicable to be a second or some kind of ship position.

"Damn, this may be harder than I thought..." He wiped the blood from his cheek, and sat in the sand, pushing out his legs as he stretched and laid back watching the bright skies. "Still better than Karate..."

[Emma T. Baskerville]

Red blinked.

The kid had... disappeared. One moment she had paused at the threshold of the bar and the next she had - simply vanished into nothing.

Red's fists tightened.

With a troubled step he stumbled towards the bar but even as he walked into the rather disreputable and now damaged-appearing edifice he knew what he would find. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. With barely a pause he turned and managed to drag himself out.

He needed a damn coffee.

But coffee wasn't so easy to get for someone down on his luck and out of change. Especially for someone who was wanted and it did not look particularly... threatening. Indeed, a bounty hunter or two might just decide he was easy pickings - regardless of the meager bounty - and try to take him out. No, he'd have to stick to the side streets and deserted alleyways like he always did. Less likely to cause civilian injuries that way.

And he couldn't steal a coffee either. That'd just be - well, foolish. Inane. Especially after all he'd done to distance himself from pirating.

His wanderings took him towards a beach. There was already a young man - almost a kid really - sitting down. Red could smell the blood and alcohol on him, even from a distance. One of the bar brawlers?

Remembering the phantom, Red shuddered. It didn't matter.

None of it mattered. He needed a little water to wash the grit out of his eyes. Walking past the stranger, he uttered a random, friendly greeting (it might have been 'nice day' or 'pleasant weather' or 'hiya') and made his way towards the water.

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

Flashback

"AGAIN!" A scream would arise, his muscles tensing and falling as his young eyes watched the target with a short gasp for air. His fists clenched, focusing as much power as he could within his fist before releasing a ferocious punch into a bulls-eye board. However, with no effect did it succumb to his blow, only releasing smoke and a screaming child from its ranks.

"OUCH!" He held his fist as he made a clenched hand, placing too much force into the blow; his father would only laugh watching him. "It's not funny, that damn thing is hard as hell to break!" A powerful bash atop the head would stop the screaming of the boys loud tongue, his father growling. Beginning to rub the top of his forehead, his father sighed heavily.

"No cursing, your mother said she hates it when you pick-up my bad habits." Kobushi watched him gritting his teeth, holding the top of his head in contempt of his fathers words. He watched him with a largely angered facial expression, as he finally yelled.

"You're the one that does it the most, dammit!" That's true, Knuckles wasn't the one who started cursing as much or as little as he did until he heard his father. It was what he learned the most, not just his special martial arts, the strength of the cursed words! But that wasn't really a big enough deal; still needing to make himself able to use a Gunshot technique or at least learning to tense his muscles for a useful attack.

"You need more concentration, Kobushi..." The tone had gotten doubly serious, the man scraped his hands against the dummy; he would look back to his son. "You need to place power, not from your muscles but, from your will..." Kobushi took his time contemplating what he said, until he finally came up with an answer. A moment of silence came, the young guys eyes would open widely.

"You're a dumbass!" Kobushi's fist tapped atop his hand, his fathers fist would shake. Punching him on top of the head as he growled loudly, grabbing his head as he began to shake it. Kobushi's eyes were whitened from the situation, the punch to the noggin knocking him unconscious.

"You need to concentrate on the target, and accelerate the blow from your mind, as if you're ready to fire it like a gun!" His father pushed him to the ground, as Kobushi leaped to his feet after awakening. "If you can't master at least the sensation of that, you won't be able to perfect the Gunshot Arts and thus not become an heir to the style..." Serious eyes would glare at Kobushi, feeling a chill down his spine.

"..." He would look down, and sigh placing down his hands. "If I can't do that... I won't be the heir?" His father would begin to walk away, leaving his son within the training grounds to think over the situation.

Flashback End

"HUH?!" Knuckles would awaken as he heard a voice of the figure who would pass him. Watching him as he gasped slowly, this guy... Knuckles wasn't easy to startle... who was he. "Yo, what are you doing, old guy?" Asking with his fingers in the sand as he arose, taking his hands into his pockets. He may have seemed off his game, but this was a decoy...

It seemed he was trying to wash himself in water that was salty... Weird. "Oi, you do know that water is salty, right?" He asked with a bored look in his eyes, a scowl on his face. Was he wrong about this guy, he seemed to not be the smartest person on the block.

[Emma T. Baskerville]

"And it is quite marvelous, is it not?" Red said, voice slightly hoarse as he splashed more water over his face. He had already taken off his shoes and rolled the bottoms of his pants upwards so that they wouldn't get wet. Or, well, too wet. It was something of an impossible task, keeping dry. Whether on land or off it. "Free and asking nothing in return save one's respect. A mighty tyrant, the sea."

His smile was fond as he finished his token morning ablutions. He dreamed often of sailing the sea. As a marine, a pirate, a bounty hunter - it didn't much matter. There was freedom on the sea. Freedom, challenge, privilege, duty... But a man such as he did not deserve that freedom. No - never again. He turned away, back to the sandy little beach and began walking back into town, his shoes hanging around his neck.

He needed a coffee.

"Just don't drink it, kiddo," he tossed out as he moved away.

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

It was a strange sensation... Knuckles could feel something from this old guy as he spoke words of metaphors... "Hm, really..." His eyes turned into calm and cool expressions as the went over his eyeballs. He chuckled lightly, and would express himself with a thorough laugh; he would then place both hands out of his pockets crossing his arms.

"You're funny old guy, really funny." His body would turn towards him, and scope him with a fierce glare as he began to move away. "So why don't you stop hiding it, you're not a normal person, are you?" His arms stayed crossed, his position was one of straightened stance as he took his teeth into a grin. "I don't need to be teased with your strength do I... I saw you in the bar; you seemed to be watching me."

His father was more like this guy in that sense, always waiting for the right moment to strike and destroy the opponents. It was a given, being a powerful martial artist and master of his style; he learned the ways of battle. Within that sense he couldn't react to something foolishly, but now he was being foolish. Didn't truly care however, he wanted to see what this guy was made of. "Always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

"You're obviously not scared of me, you were calm in the face of someone who just beat the hell out of an entire bar ground." His teeth would show a much larger grin, as he began to screech forward. "So come out, show me your strength, I bet you'll be much more fun than those bastards at the bar right?!" His body would start to move on its own, taking forth his body with a fully speeding body, moving into a powerful punching fist strike as he would cause a dash, straight towards his head he would move.

"Come on, show it!" Within mid-flight he would call-out reaching towards his back with an almost outstretched fist.

[Emma T. Baskerville]

Did all the young hotheads talk so much these days? Red tried to dredge up old memories regarding his own youth and whether or not he'd done quite so much jabbering himself but then he was being hit - it wasn't quite a textbook punch, certainly no style that the marines would be familiar with, focused as it was on adding the force of momentum to an already powerful body blow.

But Red had not survived so long on the seas by accident. A twist of his shoulders and slight repositioning of his legs let him deflect the full force of the blow away from its intended internal organs - but regardless if the kid was a battle idiot his strength was not feigned - despite deflecting the majority of it away from his own body Red went flying away, hurtling twenty, thirty feet before smashing into sand, digging a groove as his body slammed its way into the sand.

Cracking his neck he stood back up, calmly brushing the sand off his clothes.

"I'm afraid I've sprained my ankle," he lied, completely deadpan. "Looks like I can't fight anymore. Um. Congrats! Uh - good luck with your next fight!"

Without even pretending to hobble he started walking towards town again, mumbling about coffee.

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

His fist was deflected, the power of which had not been seen since the battle of the pirates of which he knew he was stronger than now. It was at this point and time where he knew things would become interesting, his eyes flashing with large bits of intrigue. Being deflected by the twist of his shoulder, and the form he raised to do so. Quite the feat, Knuckles knew one thing, this would be interesting.

His body went into a roll as he clenched his fist into the ground, grabbing the sand into his fingertips. His teeth would grow wider, his nose was snuffing wind; this was growing into a thrill. "So I see, your ankles broken..." Dashing towards him with incredible pace, his feet hitting against the ground, every step growing faster with his ruthless nature. "Don't even fucking lie, you're much stronger than you say!" Leaping into the sky, a leaping kick towards him would ensue, as he pushed his hands into the ground lifting himself upward.

He went back into a battle stance. "Fight, fight dammit, show me your true skills!" He was a battle monger, someone who thrilled for combat, something that he liked even more than women... sometimes. His fist would fly in multiple volleys, moving into his chest, and then a kick towards his head. "That all you have, get serious bastard!" Slipping downward into a rolling kick with one-hand, he would utilizing that rolling motion to focus another kick towards his ribs.

He would slip backwards into a roll, as he glared at him. His eyes were focused as he smiled widely, he wasn't one to take no for an answer, if he wanted to shut him up, he'd need to fight him. He would not stop his onslaught of moves, not even close.

[Emma T. Baskerville]

"My my, how impetuous," Red sighed, not noticing how the battle had taken the edge off his need for caffeine or the sudden twitch of his fingers that went for the swords. There were many sorts of addictions one had and not all of them were so polite as to inform their bearer of their presence but they were there, hovering below the surface regardless.

He did not draw his swords though as he fell into the familiar routine of the fight.

The next attack came in the shape of a flying kick. It was followed by a volley of punches and not a few unruly kicks.

The flying kick he just had to dodge, a slight step backwards with his left foot and bending backwards at the waist to let the blow whiff just over his nose. A fighter of the kid's caliber resorting to leaping kicks was just being plain insulting. Anything that involved heading into the air was usually reserved as an exhibition move - such as showing off fearsome arm strength and flexibility - but never used in a real fight.

Red wondered, idly, how the kid would have countered should he had unsheathed his swords and attacked while the kid was still in the air and thus vulnerable.

But then the kid hit the ground again and attacked, rendering the point moot.

The punches were trickier: Red was a swordsman and his range was usually a little farther out, in-fighting was certainly not his game and the kid got in a few good hits despite his attempts to deflect them with his hands: in theory, by placing his fist at the insides of the kid's wrists and forcing the outwards would greatly diminish their effectiveness. In practice, it was not as simple as it looked. The kick he was forced to block with his knee (a painful decision as it turned out: the kid was almost certainly a martial artist of some renown) and in his moment of pain, forgot himself - as the kid rolled on the ground and aimed for his ribs his right hand automatically snaked out, grabbing the hilt of his scimitar and blocking the blow with the flat of the blade, inching the sword out of the scabbard with just enough finesse to be effective.

The contact between metal and foot reverberated through the until-then calm beach, causing birds nesting in the nearby palm trees to take flight and the sand between the two of them to explode outwards around in a show of pure force.

Red held his sword there, not quite taking it out but not sheathing it either. "Hey, kiddo," he said between panting breaths, "shouldn't you at least introduce yourself?"

Not that he'd remember the kid's name - every now and then he'd forget the admiralty and the majority of his very large family - but hey, no one was perfect.

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

'This guy, is taking some hits, but I'm not feeling the full force of my punches going through...' Throughout the sensation of hitting the body, with broken bones or at least the tone of a rattling sensation. He didn't seem like the type of guy that actually liked fighting, but he seemed to have evasive maneuvers down pact, such as turning or twisting the body with the switch of his body from sway to sway. Incredible, someone that he finally found that was fast enough to contend with him.

After all of this, he knew that he needed to cut his ribs off from him, a hard hit to the ribs usually placed people in pain. That's where he should go for, a few more straight punches and then go for his final calling. A large scream would release as he twisted his body, turning towards the blow, his eyes were a clear shot against the grain as his foot went into what could be his main weapon, a scimitar. 'He wasn't fighting me seriously... luckily I wasn't either.' As both hit against one another, an explosive mass of sheer power spread the sands away as he rolled backwards and stood his ground.

'Kiddo, how old is this guy?!' Knuckles was satisfied, his fierceness was something Knuckles had respect for now, watching his blade. His lips would take a small chuckle, watching him as his hands came into his pockets. "My name is Kobushi Kyoumou, usually called Knuckles for my fighting." He watched his weapon and then looked back to his eyes. 'A swordsman... maybe I can...' He would then shift the attention to a scowl, as he watched him with a serious look.

"You're a strong guy, someone able to deflect my blows with all these ease you just did, shit... I like that." His arms shrugged, as he tapped his foot to the ground, and crossed his arms, smiling widely. "So, you should join me, become my second mate." It was blatant, he knew nothing about this guy; but he truly saw all he needed with his abilities. Trusting in his fighting prowess, he at least had enough even ground to fight Knuckles who was at least half serious.

"You're a swordsman, you're probably someone who hates fighting... I've learned these things all from the battle." He stretched out his arms, and yawned. "You do too many evasive maneuvers even if you weren't being serious, so what I'm saying is, join me... The Freedom Fighters Captain." Once again remarking on his seriousness with a deep voice.

[Emma T. Baskerville]

The moment Knuckles mentioned Freedom Fighters, Red rocked backwards, as if hit. Something pained passed through his eyes before being swallowed up in an unnatural calm. Sheathing his blade he shook his head.

"I-" he began, but whether because of the old wound or something else he let out a tired, sad chuckle. Whereas others might point out that they had just met and only after a vicious, unprovoked attack Red merely refused, and even then quietly. "My young friend, you honor me... but I cannot. Especially... especially not with that name." He was looking at the sky and moved to speak something else but then shook his head, the straw sakat making little swish-swish noises as it moved through the air. "No. Especially not that name."

Why would the name trouble him more than any other rather numerous reasons?

Simple. It was so gods-be-damned simple. So gods-be-damned simple that it turned right on its head and went into the territory of complicated again.

In his dreams, there was still blood on his hands.

Red had killed children, see.

So it might have been true that they were in a warzone. So it might have been true that they were the children of revolutionaries. So it might have been true that not only was he excused of his actions - he was applauded for them... but all the approval in the world would in no way lessen the magnitude crime. He would not dare take up a mantle that at all resembled theirs. It would be... it would be beyond disrespectful.

He had so much to make up for.

"I," Red wavered, lost in the haze of recollections that screamed his guilt, "cannot."

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

"You cannot join me..." It wasn't because he was someone that got angry for such a situation... it wasn't because Knuckles was a guy who forced people to do his bidding, as he liked doing his own actions instead. His "no" had just had an eerie feeling to it, he didn't like it so he would only pester him more. "I see..."

"You seem to be a guy with "a lot on his mind", but I can tell you one thing." Knuckles truly didn't know about the pasts of this guy. He did however want him on his crew, why not speak in a different more cool way. "A man is supposed to use what he has holding him back, as a way to move him forward..." He would say off the top of his dome, not that he wanted to know this guys life story, Knuckles would sit on his bottom and watch him, showing he wasn't going to be violent.

"You don't let anything tear you away from having a full life, guilt is the death of the free-spirit, and whatever you may or may not have done in your life... you go on the journey to make amends and to allow your soul to be set free from those fuckin' chains." He scraped the back of his head, sighing as his eyes would close once again. "The Freedom Fighters, is going to be a crew, that no matter what they have done in the past... they will be able to fight for their own ability to enjoy life and live as best they want, follow their dreams." He waves his hands as he would explain.

"That means, no one hates their own, we will be some type of unsegregated family, or whatever." A sweatdrop appeared on the side of his head, as he would nervously sprout some type of non-sense. He wanted to have fun, brawl, fight the ultimate battle... that was his own freedom. "Look, just don't let that shit hinder you, because even if you cry like a little bitch; the truth is the truth." Finally rising, Knuckles brushed off his back side, and began to move away from him.

"I'm going to be on this island for a few days, if we see each other again, don't hesitate to join my crew..."

[Emma T. Baskerville]

Red tipped his hat. While the kid was certainly reckless and hot-headed he did have a certain... odd form of wisdom going for him. It wasn't the sort of wisdom that came from youth that could see things more truly than those with age, it was more an odd sort of perceptiveness that was part guess and part borrowed.

What did the young know about regret?

Then again, to be fair, what did anyone? Still, Red shook his head. "Some... actions cannot be forgiven," he said quietly, almost musingly. Then he shrugged, smiling perhaps a little self-deprecatingly. "That was a little grandiose of me, wasn't it? No, rather, I cannot forgive myself. Not for something like... that."

Even now, he could still see the blood. Taste it. Feel it.

He shook himself, seeming to come out of his daze.

"But I do wish you the best of luck all the same." He said honestly enough. A thought occurred to him and he added: "Although," and here he had to wince, because dispensing sage advice was certainly not his usual M.O., "you might consider... looking for your companions rather than fighting them. Not all strength is strength of body."

[Knuckles - Kobushi Kyoumou]

He stopped as he watched him for a moment, and took a step back watching him for but a moment. It was not something he usually did, this guy seemed to be on a different plain of thought than he was. "All you're saying is, you want to live in your own shit, and not take responsibility of what you did... that could be your mission."

"It's called being a man, if you're not a man, than you must be a shadow of the man who is one..." He would have a sour taste in his mouth from that, a man that had no freedom of his own. That was a sad sight, which this guy would obviously never feel with his constant depravity of the situation. "If you can't own up to your mistakes, you're exactly right, you can't be my Second..." He shook his head.

"My second has to be someone who knows, who knows that they have to do what it takes to break from the chains of their hearts and create a path of their own to follow." His face would become angrier, clenching his fist; listening to his "advice". He would stomp his foot into the ground ferociously. "Don't give me advice if you can't even follow my own, you may be older than me but you still have just as much to learn!" He punched the ground, causing a rather large crater from the output of his fist, truly angered at the man.

Watching his bleeding fist, he would look back up towards him. "Learn to be a man yourself... and I shall gladly listen, until then." He turned with a calmer look on his face, a group of people watching the outrageous punch he made. "Make sure you call me when you make-up your mind, if I don't find a second by that time... hell I'll fight you again, whoever wins gets to be the captain." He waved his arm, and walked with his hands in his pockets.

"Til then..." He would say clearly.