Shuda stood at the ship's helm. His black leather gloves fit tightly to his hands as he worked the ship's controls. He was dressed in leather armor, it was light but hard. That heavy full plate that was typical of many Imperial Officers didn't suit him. It was too heavy, too bulky. Shuda needed to be able to move quickly, turn on a dime. His fighting style was one of speed, precision, and fluidity- not simply swinging until he hit something. Speaking of hitting something, Shuda saw the Red Hood's ship up ahead. The two ships were relatively close together. But as he watched, his prey started to turn. Likely noticing his own ship getting close. Well, it was too late now. They were close enough

Shuda had three men manning the ship's harpoon guns at all times. He pushed a button on his control panel, and at once all of the ship's speakers started to hum. It was a quiet yet blaring sound, a type of screech really. It couldn't be heard by anyone not on the ship. It was the call to battle. And the signal to fire. The denizens of his ship that were below the hull would know to come on deck immediately and to be ready to fight. The ones on deck would know to use their grappling hooks and take the battle to the other ship. But, most importantly, his three harpoon gunmen would know to fire and reel in their prey.

Shuda flicked on the ship's autopilot, all it really had to do now was stay abreast the other ship as the harpoon winches reeled them in. Shuda was proud of those harpoon guns, they were the best Imperial Money could buy. The Grand Marshall had said Shuda was to "do anything he deemed necessary" to bring the pirate in. Spending a bunch of money was a good way to start. The guns themselves were bolted to the floor of his ship. The harpoons were made of reinforced titanium and kept in the best conditions. The ropes the harpoons were normally attached to had been replaced with steel chains. Shuda wasn't taking any chances. 

He stripped off his gloves, and moved each hand to rest on the pommels of his twin longswords. He had one on each hip, sharpened to perfection. He liked to feel the hilt in his hands when he fought, for that the gloves just got in the way. Shuda strode onto deck, turning to make sure the harpoons had fired. 

The mercenaries he had hired knew their tasks. They knew the mission. They would see it done. Shuda had had enough of leading and delegating, now it was finally time to fight. 


A resounding crunch cut through the air, the sound of harpoons finding their target. Shuda smiled in satisfaction. Now for the hard part.