Grinning at his commentary on her appetite, she began the process of gutting and deboning the gigantic fish. They had been sailing towards their next destination for a couple of days now, after a news coo had delivered to her an issue of the West Blue Times talking about a certain man who had been active in the area.

While she didn't claim to be the greatest navigator to ever live, she knew her way around a nautical chart, could read the stars, and was intimately aware of the signs of an oncoming storm. Making it to the island of her choice was a piece of cake, especially in comparison to the Grand Line...

As they ate her latest catch, Siobhan glanced out in the direction of their current heading. "Our next comrade is somewhere in that direction, I can [i]feel[/i] it."

[hr]
"You understand don't you, Grauwulf? One wrong move and the blood of these people will be on [i]your[/i] hands," Ragnvald, aka "Bluewell" warned the swordsman before him.

Standing behind him were several dozen members of the Whip-Fang Pirates, their blades each pressed firmly to the throats of a villager. "And don't think you can use your speed against us, either. We've got more in the old church, and if my crew there hears anything...suspicious, they have orders to execute the people inside."

This wasn't how Ragnvald had wanted things to go. Stuck in a worthless hostage situation with a notorious bounty hunter, his ship wrecked on the coast of some forsaken backwater island...what a disaster. The Marquis would have his head if he discovered that he had failed in his extortion assignment because of a freak storm.

He had to get back on course before it was too late, and that meant getting rid of this bastard.

"So you see, your only choice is to back the fuck off and let us get our ship in order. If you do, we'll leave this town in peace."

Their [i]real[/i] target awaited, after all...the town where that fool Redwell had gotten himself killed.