Pirates. The plaza was full of pirates. Why was the plaza full of pirates!?

"Excuse me." He yelled as he dodged past one guys wild punch. "Pardon me." He screamed as he limboed under the swing of a pirates sword without losing any speed. "Sorry." He wailed, sliding under the strike of a Marine. Seems they couln't tell the civilians from the pirates out here. He couln't really blame them, the plaza was full of pirates. What sort of absolute moron would be running around out here while this was going on, he thought as he ran around amidst the melee clutching his shopping bags for dear life.


At least until a pirate came flying out of nowhere, bowling him over and sending the contents of the bags flying through the air. He watched from the ground as fish, vegetables, and a bottle of olive oil dances through the sky. 

He was a bad cook. He was a really bad cook. But if he let even one of those ingredients fall upon the ground, he wouldn't even be able to call himself that. He'd just be bad.

It was sheer luck that the shield rolled up right then, dropping from the hand of its owner a few feet away as he fell, char broiled by the pirate he'd been fighting. Remy took the shield in both hands and gave it a little spin as he threw it. It spun up under the ingredients before stopping, hanging in the air a moment to catch every last one, before beginning its descent. Well, the loose ones anyway. The bottle was still falling, but by that time Remy was already up. He caught the shield, still spinning,on and outstretched finger while the oil he carefully caught on the tip of his foot befor kicking it up into his other hand.

A pinpoint sense of balance. The little joke of his existence.

He wasn't out of danger yet though, as he heard a deep intake of breath beside him. He looked over to see the pirate from before bringing his lips up to a lit match. He intended to fry Remy along with all the ingredients he'd just saved. That was going to far! Remy decided right then that he was going to cook for this man. He dropped the oil back onto his foot as he shook the shield, sending the ingredient flying back into the air. He dropped down to the ground, scooping up a dagger dropped by the pirate who had bowled him over, wiping it on his vest as he rose up, and swiftly using it to de-bone the fish and chop the vegetables. The whole lot was prepared as in fell back into the shield, and he kicked the oil back into his hand, popped the cork, and dumped some into the shield. As the pirate let loose with a stream of flame from his lips he threw this maleshift wok pot to meet it, balancing it at an angle on the fire.

This was the result of years and years of practice as he reached out with the dagger and began stirring the contents of the shield. As the flame began to die down he ripped off his apron and wond it around his other hand, reaching out and grabbing the shield by its edge as it fell. Anyone watching would think they hand just seen a master chef in actions, but only if they wern't close enough to get a whiff.

A suddent, awful smell pervaded the air around Remy as he looked into the contents of the shield before flinching away from it. The pirate held his nose and opened up his mouth, which gave Remy the opertunity to flick some sort of black/brown mess into his mouth. His eyes shot open as his face drained of all color, then turned green, then became a nasty shade of yellow. He clutched at his throat, tried to scream, settled for a gurgle, then his eyes rolled back into his head he he fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth.

He'd seen it happen before. He'd been counting on it happening this time. It still felt like a kick in the pants.

He became aware that the sounds of battle had lessoned in the area, he he glanced around to see a lot of the combatants holding their noses. Those that weren't still halfhartedly swinging their weapons while turning three shades of green were looking at him. He felt like he should say something.

"Today's Chefs Special," he began, dejectedly brandishing his concoction like a weapon, "is his world famous, highly renowned Stir Felony. Please form a orderly line if you wish to be served."

No one seemed willing to take him up on that offer.