Captain Pickford walked through the halls of the Cerva Reditus. The ship had always seemed a little showy for his taste. The name alone was apparently in some long-dead language that only religious zealots or insufferable "intellectuals" cared about. However, the Boss had the money and the hardware to ensure no one went against him. After all, when someone offered you a fully stocked and loaded battleship, it was best to shut up and take it. Besides...if he ever decided this pirate king wannabe ever got too insufferable, he could always take his gifts, then cut and run.

Or at least, that had always been Pickford's plan. But all the new weapons, battle suits, ship upgrades, and more just got easier and easier to accept, and now here he was, walking through the halls of this surprisingly empty ship, almost entirely at the mercy of another man. Almost....

Pickford fought the urge to reach back and check if his weapons were still secure at his back, under his loose-fitting jacket. He knew from experience he could have them in hand and pointed at any threat in a second or less, a fact that had saved his hide from friends and enemies alike many times over.

However, for some reason, the skin on the back of his neck was shouting that it might not be enough this time. However, Captain Pickford ignored the feeling. Some old rich dandy wasn't about to get the best of him. Worst-case scenario, he could put a bullet in the man's head and take over the ship, then give it a proper name. Something that would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies rather than confuse them.

As he was contemplating various names involving skulls or blood, Captain Pickford saw the door ahead of him open, and the first person he'd seen since docking stepped out. With a start, he realized he recognized the man. He was another captain in the Boss's growing fleet. He wondered what the man's name was for a second...Bernard? No, it was more plain than that. Bart? Billy? Then he had it and nodded in acknowledgment as they got close. "Captain Burt. You were invited here, too?"

The other Captain nodded. "Aye. The Boss had got some new gifts to pass around... These ones are real game-changers, too! The pathetic resistance the locals have suddenly started throwing around is gonna crumble in the face of what we've got now!"

That got Pickford's attention. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Why? What's the Boss handing out now?"

Burt smiled smugly. A little too smug for Pickford's taste. All pirate captains were known to have more than their fair share of swagger. It was all part of the strong personality required to keep a bunch of maniacs in line and working together properly. But this smacked of the sort of smug superiority that belonged more on the face of some uppity business tycoon or politician rather than a pirate captain's face. If someone on Pickford's ship wore that kind of smug grin, he'd have smacked it (and several teeth) out of the man's face with the butt of his pistole. However, as this wasn't his ship, and this man was a fellow captain, he decided to let it slide, this time, as the man shook his head. "Don't want to spoil the surprise!"

Making a mental note that if the shit hit the fan, this particular Captain would look better with a knife in the back, Pickford decided to ignore the irksome man and see what all this was about for himself.

Walking into the next room, Captain Pickford saw Miss Fortuna, the Boss's secretary, who nodded in acknowledgment of his presence. "Captain Pickford, welcome to the Cerva Reditus. The Boss is waiting for you. Please, head on in."

With a curt nod in response, Pickford did so. The room was vast and empty, encased in some sort of clear material to make you feel like you were standing on the surface of the ship, exposed to the void. However, as he didn't suddenly feel like his lungs were about to explode out of his chest, he knew it was just for psychological effect and decided to ignore it, instead walking forward without so much as a spare glance for the strangeness of the room. The goal was obvious. There was a desk with two chairs on either side, one of which was occupied by an old and frail-looking man who nodded in greeting. "Captain Pickford. Thank you for joining us here today."

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Something about the old man creeped Pickford the hell out, but he wasn't about to show any signs of weakness. However, rather than sitting in the offered chair, he decided to stand next to it. He did, however, offer a somewhat polite nod. "Boss. You wanted to see me?"

Was it his imagination, or did the old man look annoyed for a second at his refusal to sit? If he had, the look had appeared and disappeared so quickly that it left Pickford unsure. Now, the old man's expression was nothing but affable as he slowly stood to match Pickford's stance. To the pirate Captain's experienced eye, everything about the man screamed the kind of weakness and vulnerability that came with age. Why were there no guards or other protective measures? In Pickford's experience, anything this open and vulnerable was almost always a trap of some kind, but if there was anything like that ready to go, he couldn't spot it. Still, he was more than a little weary as the old man answered his question. "Yes. I've been meeting with and interviewing all the more capable captains currently under my employ. I'm happy to say your record speaks for itself. Even though you chose to keep your ship separate from the larger armadas many of my captains have been working with, your hauls have been well above average for any single ship in my fleet. To captains of your ability, I've been offering a promotion of sorts."

Not wanting to offend his host while also avoiding getting more roped up in the old man's schemes than he already was, Captain Pickford decided to be as polite as he knew how. "Thank you. My boys and I work hard to earn our place and the equipment you've given us. However, I don't think I'll be accepting any promotions. My men and my ship are my main concern, and any kind of promotion would mean more responsibility than that, and I'm not really interested in that kind of life."

The old man seemed surprised by the answer but then nodded in acceptance. "Very well. If that's the way you feel about it, I suppose there's nothing more to say. Thank you for your time. You may leave."

Still feeling like there was more tension in the air than this meeting warranted, Captain Pickford nodded his acceptance. "Thank you, boss." Then turned to leave.

He didn't see or hear anything, but something suddenly screamed to Pickford that he was in danger. Without thought or hesitation, the Pirate captain reached behind his back and drew both pistols he'd kept hidden as he turned to face the old man, who had, somehow, managed to clear the table and close the distance far faster than his ancient frame suggested was possible.

As soon as the barrels were leveled in the general direction of the old man's center mass, Pickford pulled both triggers, sending a gout of death into the Boss's chest. However, rather than fall back, the old man simply continued forward as if the bullets were a slightly irksome spring rain, reaching him in the blink of an eye.

One old and withered arm shot out, grabbing Pickford's throat in a steely grip that made him realize that nothing less than his life was at stake, even as the Boss's second hand crushed his left wrist, forcing him to drop his gun. The Captain slammed the but of the pistol in his free hand against the old man's head, tearing away some of the flesh covering what was apparently a metallic skull. Then the Boss slammed Pickford to the ground, forcing the air out of his lungs.

Pickford gasped, or tried to, writhing about while doing his best to inflate his lungs that seemed shocked into ineffectiveness. His vision was blurring as the Old man smiled down at him and simply adjusted his suit back into place, completely ignoring the side of his skull that was suddenly missing a good chunk of skin as though it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Well done, Captain! You are every bit as skilled as your reputation warrants! However, I'm afraid the promotion I offered is mandatory. Your feelings on the subject are irrelevant."

Pickford struggled to pull himself toward the closest of his guns, lying just barely beyond his reach, when the Boss reached down and grabbed him, hefting the larger pirate to his feet with surprising ease and dragging him to the chair the Captain had refused before as the old man kept speaking to himself. "A man of your ability deserved only the best. I've got a special...counterpart set aside for you."

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