The three men stood at the helm of a giant galleon. The enormous warship was sailing right for a pirate vessel. The privateers were under the employ of the Brits, and were all former inmates. Ironically, they'd all served time for dereliction of duty aboard the Marines, and had all been placed within the confines of the same island prison. Their sentences had been brutal acts of slavery and torture; every one of the men onboard bore numerous scars that reminded them of the harsh place they would return to, were they caught once again. The captain, standing at the helm of the boat, his left- and right-hand man behind him, watched eagerly as they closed in on the vessel.

As the galleon battered it's way through the waves, the captain retired below deck. His helmsman smiled to each other. They both stood stock still as salt water splashed them. Deckhands spontaneously clambered to the lower decks, gathering their weapons for the showdown that was to follow. A shadowy figure was busy rearranging the gunpowder barrels into the hold. They were in positions that were difficult to hit for anyone who didn't know where they were. Satisfied with his work, the man slowly trudged his way carefully back through the shadows.

The captain resurfaced several minutes later, as the galleon was just about bearing down on the pirates. The long nose jutting from the ship's helm served as more than an aesthetic device. The captain stepped lightly on it, balancing himself. His crew had gone reverently quiet. The entire ocean seemed to go quiet. The two helmsmen stepped forward, above the bow rail. The pirates could all see the three men that commanded the enormous vessel.

The captain stepped further up the spear-like attachment at the nose of the ship. The crew of pirates had assembled on their vessel, staring up at the majestic galleon. The captain was clutching a stick with a white flag tied around it. He held it up high. His own crew was bewildered, as were the pirates. He turned his head slightly, and his two helmsman unholstered their pistols. His lips spread into a cheeky grin. He stood tall, lowering the flag, and began to run up the wooden extension, towards the pirates. As he leapt, he drew his own pistol, threw the flag in the air, and pulled the trigger. As he had done numerous times, he had aimed so that the bullet flashed through the flag, catching the white fabric on fire. The small metal ball tore into the pirate captain's chest. Stunned, and not quite accepting of his own death, the man stood for a second, as the privateer captain sailed through the air. The privateer's helmsman stepped forward, aimed their weapons at the floor, and pulled the triggers. As they did so, they stepped up onto the same wooden pole their captain had leapt over seconds before.

The two bullets struck small pieces of flint on the lower deck, smashing through the wooden floors. A small trail of gun-powder ran around the side of the deck, and eventually ended amongst a stockpile of powder and rum barrels. The friction caused by the bullets on the flint sent sparks shooting out amongst the powder. The grey substance caught fire instantly. The flames rushed down the trail of gun-powder, and engulfed the barrels. The explosion ripped the ship apart. The two helmsman saluted their former crew, as the debris spiralled into the air. The mast, bearing the British flag, came crashing down slowly. With a mighty creak, the helmsman felt their part of the ship began to lurch forward into the ocean.

The captain landed as the explosion went off. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. He landed with a graceful roll, quickly swinging his pistol back into it's holster. WIth the same hand in the same motion, he grabbed a long and thin cutlass, and stabbed it into the wooden floor. He came to his feet, and the flames and smoke floated slowly into the air. WIthout even thinking, he grabbed a second cutlass, and ran the pirate directly in front of him through. He figured he had a second or two to kill as many as he could before they realised. As quickly as he'd stabbed the man, he retraced the blade and set his sights on a second victim. Underhanded, he slashed the man's stomach, and spun to grab his second blade. The two gutted pirates collapsed to the deck with a thud. The captain ripped his second blade out of the wood, and tossed them both into the air. He spun once again, distracting his prey, and grabbed each sword in the opposite hand. He swung them down in an X-motion, slashing two men across the face. Twirling the blades in mid-air, he thrust them both backwards, stabbing a man with each weapon. Five down, and the pirates had only just started taking notice.

The two helmsmen had cracked a smile as they watched their captain set about massacring the pirates. They stood proudly against the desolate backdrop of smoke and fire. Feeling their small chunk of galleon lurch forward, they stepped forward, ready to make the small jump. The front of the boat almost tossed itself toward the pirate vessel. The spear-appendage of the ship plunged itself into the wood-work of the pirate boat, and the two helmsman drew their swords, clutching their pistols in their off-hands.

The captain spun to see his two allies step onto the boat behind a stunned and confused group of pirates. He'd cut down another man in the time it had taken the men to step aboard, bringing his total to six. Swords crossed over, and slowly drawing the crowd away from his comrades, he stepped backwards, towards the opposite end of the ship. One of the pirates braved up, and lunged toward him. The captain slammed one of his swords down on his attacker's blade, and swung his other arm around, swinging it down on his burly neck. The blade tore right through the muscles, bones, tendons and skin, and the pirate's head dropped grotesquely, and began to roll toward the cabins. The dead pirate's comrades cringed as they watched the brutality. The captain quickly took the chance, and struck down two more men. The heat was causing him to sweat, and it gave the illusion that he was tired. He was, in fact, far from tired.

The pirates seemed to swarm, suddenly, like a hive-mind. The captain seemed to be wildly swinging his lethally sharp blades, as the pirates swung violently at him. Quick flicks of the wrist sent his weapons spiralling on ridiculous angles, cutting through blood-thirsty pirates. His two helmsman slowly strode up behind the group of pirates gathered around their captain; their friend.