The man begged on his knees, blood splattered almost everywhere. His voice was horse, and once proud. One eye was swollen shut, and the other blinked through blood. He begged to the cold figure in front of him for mercy. He offered everything. His life. His soul. Himself. Everything he had. And his children, too. The figure froze, then struck him across the face with the flat of its blade. He fell, sobbing brokenly. The figure hauled him up by the hair, forcing him to look in that wide, pitiless silver eye, set in pale skin almost the color of alabaster, the only one visible. The other was curtained by a thick mane of jet-black hair. Two lips, which he would have thought luscious in a bar after a couple drinks and with a bottle of hard sake in his hand, hovered over each other, ever so slightly revealing the small, white teeth.
"You have no right to offer other's lives to me," a feminine voice hissed. Even through its furious filter, the voice was still velvet smooth and cloying. He whimpered pathetically. The cold grey eye regarded him icily as he scraped the floor desperately. Finally, it turned to the two children, staring at it in fearful wonder.
"Go," the voice said, the tiniest bit softer. "Find me the most valuable thing in your father's house, and bring it here. You know what I'm looking for." The two nodded and rushed away as the man moaned again, though whether it was from his wounds or from the pain of parting with his treasure, the figure did not care.
Soon enough, the children rushed back, the girl holding a small, black box in her hands. Frightened, for she had seen what the figure had done to her father, she held it up, and slowly edged towards it. Gently, the figure relieved her of her burden, and she rushed back to hug her younger brother. The figure opened the box up, and a ruthless smile graced the lips as the lid was closed again and the box disappeared into her pocket.
"I have what I came for," the voice came again. "What you stole from me, you underhanded thief." The man whimpered, before turning to his children.
"Why did you give it to her?" he spat angrily. The two wept, crying in fear of not the figure but of their father. The figure had done nothing to really harm them, but their father beat them to unconsciousness every time he came home drunk, which was often. They had seen no reason why they shouldn't give the figure what their father had often boasted about.
"You misuse your children," the figure said without surprise. "You are truly a villain, MacHaggen." MacHaggen spun around to the figure, anger giving him a hopeful, reckless streak.
"At least I have no regrets to this! I'm happy to have stolen that from you," he said defiantly. The figure chuckled coldly, the sound like hot glass tinkling on ice. A musical, intoxicating, deadly sound.
"And it will prove to be your doom," were the last, venomous words that he heard as a katana blade sprouted exactly where his heart was.
He screamed, a shrill keening sound.
And then all was silent.
She looked at the children, who were huddled together. Wordlessly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small roll of belis. She threw it to them. That roll, she knew, would not only sustain them but also help them find a good place to stay, or to work. Either way, they weren't her problem.
"Find yourselves a new home," she said simply, walking out after she took something else from the home.
The children stared at her back, half grateful.
The pirate named 'Black Silk', bounty 397,000,000 beli, walked out of the hovel. She had gotten back what she had looked for, and she was relatively content. Also, she had gotten his treasure box, a bonus. And freed some kids. Another bonus.
Yawning, she stretched and walked back to the town, not caring if there were bloodstains on her pants. No one would be bothered to ask, since this part of town was the haunt for all sorts of villains. Feuds were regular, and scars were seen as being battle-worthy.
She was, to the outside observer, one of those people that simply by-passed pretty and went straight to beautiful. Although only 5' 4", she had thick, jet-black hair that was often brought back in a ponytail and pale, smooth skin. Her eyes were of different colors, the right one a cool brightly polished silver, and the left one a deep blood red, which she often covered with her over-long bangs. Her left pant leg was torn, revealing a swirling tattoo that swirled around on her long leg, and on the other pant leg there was a fire stitched on. Her shirt was simple and dark blue, making the dark bloodstains blend in a bit. A katana hung sheathed from her waist via a long leather strap. Her appearance screamed out 'dangerous', and she had the actions and the will to back up that claim. The 397,000,000 beli bounty wasn't from being nice.
Black Silk, of course, was not her birth name. Her name was actually Akira Cain. Ironic, yes, that her given name, Akira, meant light and brightness, but her poster name gave the impression of a smooth blackness.
"Silk!" the bartender behind the bar called out in greeting. A curt nod was all he got as she quietly ordered a drink. In Lougetown, you could get almost anything. Including Marines. The bartender handed her a small glass of light sake, and she sipped it, enjoying the fruity taste. Her attention swiveled to a guy with green hair, almost the color of moss, who walked in and ordered a bottle of sake. Silk noticed his rust-red eyes, a sort of brown-red that made them disconcerting but not quite as demonic as hers were. He sat down a stool away, drinking. An eyebrow raised on her pale brow as Silk watched him drink quickly, but not get drunk. Must be one of those resistant types.
With one smooth motion, she stood up and threw a few coins to the bartender, and walked out. She was unsurprised to see the guy walk out—she hadn't timed her last sip to be the last gulp from the bottle that he took for nothing.
She felt a gust of wind and guessed that a storm was on the way, all the while fingering the black box in her pocket. Inside, there was one of the things that she'd treasure forever. But enough of the fuzzies. She headed over to an unobtrusive shop, noting the direction the guy went. But first, she had some business to take care of.
A/N: And that's the end of this chapter. This is my best One Piece fanfic so far, and I hope that you guys like it. :) Don't worry, I'll continue to work on Saviours and Captive Interest. But One Piece has really caught my attention now. ;) Please review and tell me what you think!