Among those who taken up the task of informing the officers of the present situation, Seaman Jo Joe Josie had come from the Commander's Quarters confused and a bit lost. The recent reassignments meant that about a quarter of the 2nd Patrol's men were new and rather unfamiliar with the quirks and quandaries surrounding those at the top, and adjustment was...a work in progress.

Jo's wanderings took him down to the engine room, where a worker tending a burned face pointed him to some more experienced superiors, who sent him down to the cargo hold. Jo passed by the brig, face twisting into a grimace of confusion and disgust as he watched men with long spears, tips dull and rusted, poking and prodding as the tried impale caged pirates caught more than a week ago, laughing about how the unpolished weapons will hurt more when they go in. Keeping his head low and slipping by, he finally reached the hold, and by following grunts of anticipation and calls of low or high, he came across a group of Marines huddled around a pile of cards, bills, and coins. One Marine held a card from his hand out out, over a pile where a 6 lay, while the one sitting opposite of him pondered with a hand on her chin, before finally stating, "Low."

Her opposite dropped a Jack on the pile, leaving Vice-Admiral Freyja to let out a groan, throwing her free hand to slap her forehead as her opponent chortled, the witnesses joining in as the pot was taken back. Reaching to grab a few bills as she looked over her cards again, Freyja separated one, holding it up, before finally taking notice of Jo. "Yo."

Jo stared blankly. "Ma'am...we're under attack!"

"Don't call me ma'am. I'm not some old fart like Colt."

As if on cue, there was another quake, and the ship rocked to one side, Jo managing to brace himself up against a crate, while the sitting gamblers had no issue, instantly dropping their hands to keep the cards in place.

"It's an emergency!"

Freyja waved her hand, "Chill out, kid. It's probably just Pop Brine. Happens all the time around here."

A bit lost, Jo elaborated, "There's a ship! It could be the Scrapyard Pirates!"

Freyja clicked her tongue, muttering, "Gross..." Letting out a sigh, she threw her cards down before letting out a yawn. "Better give it a look," she stated as she stood, grabbing her coat from behind her and throwing it over her V-neck shirt and slack gray pants, blades at her hip. One thin, the tip practically touching the ground from its length, and one wide, the hilt shaped like a scaly curled tail and seeming to twitch at the movement.

---

Going from the dank and mildewy hold to the fresh salty spray of the sea air as another thunderclap rang out, sending a wave of water to the deck as the warship rocked lightly. "Evasive action? Smart. Or whoever's attacking us is shit at adjusting their aim." Seeing some men fumbling with cannons, Freyja called, "Double time on those!" without making a move herself. She spotted the Scrapyard Pirate flag: a mishappen metallic skull with sharp teeth dripping black oil into the background of the sail, dark clouds of billowing smoke trailing behind the ship, dancing in front of the sun and casting shadows on the patrol division. The cannons were just a formality: against any crew of note in the New World, they were an annoyance at best...