"Are you fucking stupid? Pirates are rad, even more nowadays when the sea are treacherous and the corporations suck. This is like, peak swashbuckling era. You just have to be a Samurai to do it."

  - Anonymous poster, in a discussion regarding Samurai Scurvy

  When I say flying pirate ship, I meant a literal flying pirate ship. Not an ounce of modern or future tech showed itself externally; it was as if the ship had sailed right out of the 19th century. Soft brown wood composed the entire hull of the vessel, and fabric sails fluttered unfurled on the masts, each connected by a wide array of ropes and nets. A dozen cannons peered out from each side of the ship, and I was under no illusions that they were just for show. Absolutely none of this was sky-worthy, but it continued to ignore the laws of physics while performing all sorts of daring maneuvers in the sky above, including an honest-to-god loop de loop.

  It was also blasting seafaring music the entire time, which was somehow audible literal miles away.

  The ship circled for a while, as whoever was piloting clearly was having the time of their lives, but eventually it settled down and softly descended to the ground, not even shifting the air as it landed. Apparently they were committed entirely to the bit, as an anchor even dropped from the side and crashed to the ground. To be honest, that seemed a bit superfluous.

  A long plank of wood emerged from the top of the ship, easily wide enough to hold me five times over, and from that plank emerged Scurvy.

  Top to bottom was muscle. Not to the point of being grotesque in its volume, but it far went past even the word swole and made her torso and every limb as broad as a tree’s trunk. Raven black hair far past her neck blew dramatically behind her from beneath her tricorne hat, accompanied by the long coat slung over her shoulders. What also struck me was how much of her was missing: both her left hand and the bottom half of her right leg were nowhere to be seen on her tanned frame, instead replaced with a prosthetic hand and a peg leg. Such battle damage continued onto her face, one eye a hypnotic emerald color, the other obscured by an eyepatch with the edges of a scar poking out beneath.

  “Ahoy!” she bellowed, her voice hearty and cheerful, while giving a dramatic bow. “I humbly welcome you all aboard my pride and joy, The Cheshire’s Grin!”

  She walked back onto the ship proper, but my eyes remained transfixed even as the rest of the group shuffled onto the boat. Every part of her gait oozed confidence, but unlike the guys who entered the ring suave and left it beaten and blubbering, I could tell that such bravado from the Samurai was not unwarranted. Scurvy was Tier Four if Trig was to be believed, which meant she must have faced horrors of the deep I couldn’t even fathom. One had to be strong to sail the seas nowadays, unbelievably so, and I could completely believe that this pirate cosplayer wasn’t just talking the talk. Admittedly helped by her arriving on a literal flying dutchman.

  And yet, despite what would likely be a massive, nigh-insurmountable power gap, the thought of laying her out in a fight tickled me pink. But that was later. Right now, maybe I could enjoy the rest of the party.

  Me, Kevin, and Trig all boarded the ship, and I could hear Kevin let out a very warranted whistle the moment we laid eyes on the deck. It looked almost exactly like one would envision the deck of a pirate ship to look, with pristine wooden boards across the entire length. What signified this as a party though, was the various carnival games placed down the length of the ship, as well as the table decorated with a wide assortment of finger foods and a massive bowl of bloody red punch. This must have been a ghost ship, too, as all the servants were skeletons, decked out in attire just as ridiculous as their captain.

  “Hey look, skeletons,” Kevin pointed out. “Maybe you should join her crew, Max. I bet you’d be right at home.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I have a skull mask. Har har. Have you tried feeding your children by vomiting in their mouths, like a real bird?”

  “So, you must be the fresh blood!”

  A hand went on my shoulder the second that voice boomed out from behind me. Both me and Kevin quite literally jumped, nearly falling on my ass myself as I still wasn’t totally used to the new muscles and vaulted a bit too far. Once I reoriented myself, what faced me was the imposing form of Scurvy looming in front, drenching me partially in shadow. Jesus, she had to have been like seven feet tall.

  Scurvy seemed to get quite the thrill from our reaction, as what followed was a laugh deep from the gut. “You two really must be green, being so jumpy like that.”

  “How the hell did you get behind us?”

  “You don’t reveal the cards in your hand until the time is right, lassie.” She leaned further, a very wide smile crossing her face. Being this close, I swear her one good eye was actively glowing. “You must be Death Punch.”

  “What gave it away? The skull mask?”

  “The look in your eyes actually. Such a glare could spear a whale dead, like you're sizin’ me up.”

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  I could feel the grin on my own face growing wider. “Let’s just say I’ve heard some rumors about what goes down here, and I’m interested to see if those rumors are true.”

  A scoff exited her lips. “With a declaration like that, you better not let me down then.”

  Her attention shifted to Kevin. She gave much the same reaction that Trig initially had, albeit more subdued. “Bone Hawk, then. Although I believe the skinny I was given was quite a bit different than how you appear now.”

  “A lot can change about a Samurai in two months,” he replied.

  Scurvy considered his answer for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. “That it can. Frankly I shouldn’t really be that surprised, what with everything I’ve gone through. You ain't the first to make that change, and you certainly won't be the last.”

  She glanced around for a moment, then scratched her chin. “Shouldn’t there be one more of you?”

  Trig piped up to clarify. “Staccato couldn’t make it today. He apparently had some prior obligations.”

  “Mmm, well two of the three is a passing grade, if only barely. I’ll just have to make time to swing in for a visit later. As for you two, feel free to enjoy yourselves. If there’s anything you need, give me or my mates a holler. We run so tight a ship you could even call it a skeleton crew!”

  She walked away with another boisterous laugh and a wave, going off to make small talk with one of the other Samurai who had just walked aboard.

  “You heard the lady,” Trig said. “C’mon, let me show you around.”

  Once I threw myself into the party atmosphere properly, I had to admit I was having a good time. There was a good selection of different games, ranging from more traditional carnival stalls to more high-end attractions with Mesh-tech and simulators. Our preferences quickly became clear: I gravitated towards the analog stuff, Trig liked anything digital, and Kevin didn’t really care much either way. My favorite was the test of strength, mostly because I hit the bell and was proclaimed a Certified Seadog by the skeleton attendant there. Kevin was noticeably behind, and Trig’s swing didn’t even make it a quarter of the way up, earning himself the status of Water Flea.

  The food was equally good. Alcohol was apparently off the table because Scurvy took underage drinking very seriously, but the lack of booze didn’t make all the rest lesser. Every single one of the finger foods I took a bite off was delicious, be they savory or sweet, and the several boxes of pizza were predictably ravaged by every Samurai present in short order. What surprised me the most was the punch, a mixture of different fruit juices equal parts flavorful and refreshing, even if I couldn’t place what exactly it tasted like. Kevin liked the punch too, but he was more particularly losing his mind over the attendance of the infamous red solo cup.

  Aside from our little group, most other guests kept to themselves, wandering around and taking part in the attractions in their lonesome. Well, except for one.

  The only other sanely dressed person there quite literally skipped over to me, which I caught out of the corner of my eye. Not an ounce of tension was in her body, and it was difficult to tell what was more sunny: the bright yellow sundress she was wearing, or her grin when we finally made eye contact. “Death Punch, right?”

  “That’s me,” I replied. Was it bad that I was suspicious of such an earnest question?

  “Cool! So my girlfriend really wants to talk to you, but she is just a little bit shy. Awful with people. Just the worst. But so cute. Do you mind if I take you over to meet her?” She did this little flutter of her eyelids, yet instead of alluring it came off almost endearing.

  “I…guess?”

  “You're the best, follow me!”

  There wasn't much chance for me to follow willingly considering the girl immediately dragged me by the sleeve. “Hey, watch it! You're gonna make me spill my punch!”

  Completely undeterred or ignoring my request, she brought me over to the subject of her request: the flamboyantly dressed woman in purple I had noticed earlier. Her shades were currently atop her head of hair, soft brown with magenta tips, and from within her now revealed brown eyes was a look of confusion, fear, and disdain. I imagined the last one was due to me interrupting her cup of punch. We kind of just…stared at each other for a hot minute, not sure how to actually start the conversation. Usually I would be a lot more forthcoming with my words, but the awkwardness of the entire situation threw me off my game.

  I was the first to break the silence. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” The word came off gruff and disinterested, but her eyes actively avoided my own.

  “I heard you wanted to talk to me, Miss…”

  “Vengeance. Miss Vengeance is my Samurai name.” A small blush appeared on her lips, still not totally used to the name if I were to guess. I felt that, to be honest. “I just wanted to say I like your mask. Persona, right?”

  I tilted my head. “Persona?”

  A wince went across her face, and she turned away. “Never mind.”

  “What Vivi’s trying to say here is that you look really good in the mask, and it reminds her of a character in a game,” the girl next to Miss Vengeance said, leaning in for a side hug and causing a blush for both girls.

  “Chloe…”

  “Well, if we’re talking about attire here, you’ve got quite the look yourself,” I said, quietly eying her up and down. “I have to guess those tattoos do something for fighting if that’s what you wear into battle.”

  “Nanomachines, they harden in response to physical trauma.” She smoothly flexed one of her biceps, and a soft lavender glow blossomed over the entire arm, turning every inch of skin on the limb purple in color.

  That entire display had me interested. “Nice, I assume you're a pretty hands-on fighter then?”

  “Yeah, I don't like guns. They're loud.”

  “I feel that.”

  Miss Vengeance hesitated for a second. “...Do you play any video games?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Oh.” She visibly deflated, and I felt all the positive momentum from the conversation dissipate into thin air.