Walking up to the tavern with the other pirates, Galen Jones reflected on what was about to happen. He never liked this part of the job. Raiding was so unnecessary, especially for a crew as notable as the one he was in. Even though they were only a subordinate crew of the Marquis, the Redwell Pirates were still a well-known force. Why not just send one guy to negotiate? It would prevent a lot of lost lives on both sides and it could enable the pirates to get more money. Then again, a guy like the Marquis wouldn’t do what he did if he cared about preserving lives. His thoughts were interrupted though.

“Hey Jones! Jones, you son of a bitch! Pay attention!”

A big, hairy fat man whose only clothing was a pair of pants was yelling at Jones now.

“Oh, what now, Claire? Your yelling’s giving me a headache!” Jones said, wincing his head and rubbing his forehead.

“It’s Carl! Say my name right or I’ll punch you!” Carl jabbed with his fists like a boxer to illustrate his point.

“Nah,” Jones responded, “and as I love telling you, we have a lot of muscle in our crew, but only a few doctors. If you do so much as touch me, the captain will kill you faster than you can say ‘One Piece.’”

“Yeah, well...shut up! We’re almost here,” the fat man said, turning to the force that was assembled under his command, “these people are all in their tavern. I’m hungry, so let’s get our money and get our food. Got it?!”

Without even waiting for a response from the pirates, Carl punched the door, forcing it wide open despite the fact that there were tables and chairs there. Walking in with the pirates, the fat man yelled “okay, we want food! ...and your money. Give us what you got, or I’ll do this!” He then grabbed the arm of a nearby man and crushed it in his hand, then threw the guy to the floor.

Before anyone could do anything else, Jones ran to the man and started making an improvised cast for him using some towels that were nearby.

“Sorry about all of this,” he said with irritation, “Claire’s an idiot.”