With the remainder of the pirates having their movements inhibited, Sylvester Sweet could take his time stopping the stampede. He finished reloading his revolver and holstered the weapon. There’d be no need to waste more rounds on enemies that couldn’t retaliate. Instead, the cowboy methodically visited each enemy and landed a clean, surgical hook to their craniums, sending them to floor to join the dozens of other fallen combatants. With each opponent frozen in their tracks, perfectly aiming his punches was an incredibly simple feat. 

Perhaps it was just the convenience of Klinghoffer and suite of skills that Sylvester was drawn to?

The last of the herd dropped, Sylvester examined his knuckles, ensuring they were still in prime condition to continue combat. He was about to remark something calm and smooth to his partner, when Sylvester was stopped by the sound he heard. Or rather, the lack of sound. “What happened,” Sylvester began to ask, “to the people inside of the tavern?”


No longer was there any yelling or shouting from inside the small establishment. And, as if on cue, its wooden door swung open to reveal a duet of hearty laughter. It swung shut again, and from the bar had come the two conductors of the whole mess that had troubled Sylvester so much. 

“Tight Noose,” Rascal Stone, pirate captain of Under Station, worth 15,000,000 beli was in the lead of the duo. Though it was night, he wore a pair of violet-tinted shades over his face. Wrapped around his hips like a belt was a coil of rope, tied in a loose knot at his right hip. Long, gray-blue hair reached the small of his back. He stood almost a whole foot taller than Sylvester himself, with lean muscle stretched taut across his body. His purple jacket exposed a bare chest underneath, and was printed with his crew’s Jolly Roger on its back, a winking skull fallen beneath a pair of crossbones.
 
President of the Red Forest Company, Uther Lance wasn’t far behind, giggling like a school boy at some joke Sylvester had missed. He was deeply tanned across his body and wore a maroon dress shirt, its sleeves rolled up and tattered. With spiky locks of black hair, an unkempt goatee and sunken in eyes, it looked as if the man had just stared into the face of an explosion and only walked away with a haircut. A loose assortment of tools were wrapped around his waist with a red leather belt, matching the color of his work boots.

It didn’t take long for the both of them to catch onto what had transpired while they were quelling the chorus inside of the tavern. 

“Oh… oh no,” Rascal said, “this won’t do at all. Who in blazes is meant to carry my cargo now?!”

Uther started laughing again, stroking his goatee, “Don’t worry, I’ve no doubt our guests here would be,” he started laughing at his own joke, “would be happy to volunteer. Wouldn’t you?”

Sylvester was more than aware of what was about to transpire. This here was the opportunity for a neat, conclusive ending. If these two fell as easily as their men, then this whole circus of an evening could end. He pulled together his rope in preparation for a fight, laying another hand on the handle of Trust. 

“My name is Syl-” 

“Ah, shut your trap!” Rascal interrupted the cowboy’s introduction, spurring on another fit of chuckles from Uther. He pulled out his own rope, setting his sights on Sylvester from behind those sunglasses. “Less a hangman knows about his client, the better!”

And, with that, he burst forth into a sprint, Uther Lance not far behind. Their confrontation had already begun.

Klinghoffer springs into action, he dropped down and slid along the ground playing a Minor Inversion Triad as the two began to charge stopping them in place, "Seems you two weren't that observant now you just have to bite the bullet!" Klinghoffer said as he drew his stolen revolver and unloaded the remaining 2 bullets, one into each of them. His accuracy, unfortunately, was sub-par as he had not shot a gun since he had left the West Blue, his bullets hit Uther in the leg and Rascal in the shoulder, both of them gritted their teeth in anger as they tried to will their way out of the hold that Klinghoffer's music had put them under. Since the gun was now useless he tossed it aside and turned to grab his guitar, he looked at the surrounding area and anything he could use to his advantage. The musician saw a crowbar in the hand of a corpse about 5 meters behind him, however as he began to crawl he felt an iron grip on his leg yanking him in the other direction, he turned to look at what was stopping him and it was none other than Uther Lance.

"Oh this isn't good..." Klinghoffer said as he was dragged along the ground through the corpses and was hung upside down by his foot as if he was bait on a fishing line, he pulled the half drunk bottle of rum from his side and smashed it on the muscular man's arm hoping to break free of the stern hold on his leg. The musician looked in awe upon Uther's arm, there was no blood, no shards of glass sticking out, the only thing that remained was the rum dripping off of what looked to be an invisible suit of armour over his forearm. "Ahahaha! You thought you could overcome my armament haki?! What a fool!" Uther bellowed with a hefty laugh then tossed Klinghoffer into a wall, breaking the brick that was impacted by the musician's body. He fell to the floor slumped over, a small flow of blood trickling from his head, still conscious, he tried to pull himself off of the floor but the pain was too much to bear without support, "Ahh! Well then... That's how it is..."

Sylvester Sweet was thankful to be given a grace period, however short, by Klinghoffer’s musical ability, but it seemed far too convenient for this pair to let themselves be done in by a feat like that. In not time at all, Rascal Stone was back to moving freely, and his rope was fully drawn out, a long noose tied at its end. Taking note of the enemy’s speed, Sylvester was forced to focus all his attention on the singular opponent. If Klinghoffer was unable to keep pace in this fight, he’d be sorely out of luck.

Feinting a throw of his own rope, the cowboy jerked to his left a pulled out Trust, leveling its barrel at the opponent. Rascal already had a round plugged into his shoulder, if Sylvester could just play off that slight advantage, he may have luck against the fearsome foe. With a single hand, he swung the hammer of the revolver back to fire a pair of shots, he hoped to land in Rascal’s side, only for the captain to gracefully move out of the way with a sneer as the lead passed by him.

Sylvester’s shock provided Rascal with opportunity, and he swung the noose wide, as if he was attacking with a flail. The attack was no doubt a bluff, and Sylvester readied himself to fire from his revolver again, until the rope struck the cowboy in his side, and all he heard was… 

“Critical Pendulum!”

...when the rope hit like a sack of bricks. Instead of glancing off his body, it really had landed like an iron flail. It was is if the rope had been charged with some impossible source of kinetic energy. 

“Felled by a blow like that?” Uther asked, closing the gap between he and Sylvester, while the latter struggled to his feet. “Good thing I didn’t bother to listen to your name,” Rascal appeared before Sylvester as soon as he’d risen to his feet, planting a fist in the cowboy’s gut and then smacking him to the side with the other arm. “By breakfast tomorrow you won’t be but a fart in the wind!”

“Oh! Dust Commander!”

Before even recovering from Rascal’s one-two combination, Sylvester flung out his own rope, performing the trick create a cloud of dust and splinters from the massive fight that had occurred before. Using the obstruction, Sylvester pounced from the earth, again raising Trust to put an end to this disgrace of a fight. Rascal hadn’t moved out from behind the pillar of dust, so as long as Sylvester shot through it, there’d be no time for the guy to react. With that conclusion in mind, he unloaded the rest of his ammunition, this fight was no time to be stingy with the bullets. 

The dust clearing, Sylvester was horrified by the sight before him. Standing, without a single additional wound, was Rascal Stone, safe and sound from every bullet, without having seemed to move an inch. The gunshots had hardly even raised an eyebrow for him. Sylvester simply couldn’t fathom how his opponent had sensed and dodged every attack “Oh,” he merely said, “I was hoping that rope was for more than show. I get to put my Rope Action’s Hangman Variation to a true test,” having said that much, he jerked his arm back, tugging on his rope, which seemed to lead directly beneath where Sylvester was standing.

“Looming Spectre!” 

Rope constricted around the cowboy’s legs and pulled his feet out from under him. His head collided with the stone walkway and things went a bit fuzzy. Normally, his imagination ran wild. But, now, only a single question seemed to race through his mind. 

This wouldn’t be how things ended, would it?

All Klinghoffer could do was sit there and watch his friend get pummeled over and over, he turned his attention to his guitar Layla as it sat on the floor on top of a small pile of rubble, he looked at it intensely, thinking back to it's previous owner, a woman that he lost because of his poor life choices and unfortunate circumstances. If only i was stronger... he thought to himself as he grabbed a pillar that held up the front porch he rested on and slowly dragged himself onto his feet, If only I was strong enough to make it back to her . Klinghoffer picked up a jagged piece of rock and trudged towards an unsuspecting Uther who was turned away from his opponent looking upon the one-sided fight that was raging on between Sylvester and Rascal, unbeknownst to Uther, the determined musician was right behind him raising his makeshift weapon in preparation to strike. With a sharp Jab Klinghoffer stabbed the rock into Uther's back, causing him to flinch and lower himself a bit, "Now you've done it you little shit! Take THIS!"

"Armament Arm Thrust!"

Uther turned his whole forearm black and swiftly with his backhand, sent Klinghoffer flying back into the wall, denting it and crushing the brick under his back even further. He slid down the wall into the same slumped position and stared at his guitar with a burning determination, "What's the matter Guitar Boy? Broke a string? Come at me with all you got pipsqueak" Uther said with a prolonged laugh, this time keeping his eyes glued to his opponent. It can't end like this, there has to be a way, the musician thought to himself once again, over and over as he slowly grasped the pillar with both hands and dragged himself up once again. Klinghoffer stumbled back to Uther, coughing blood and limping as he did, he raised his right arm and struck at Uther once again, his eyes started to flicker, his will started to manifest as a small aura. he wound up and hit Uther's chest with as much force as he could muster, which was still obviously a laughable amount to his oversized opponent. "HA! This is all your strength is worth?! I don't even have to bother with haki to send you flying!" Uther shouted along with another laugh, Uther backhanded Klinghoffer once more and sent him straight back to where he started. However it was different this time, his torso covered itself in a black coating as he hit the brick wall that had been impacted twice before, it crumbled on impacts and the pirate went through the bricks and into the building. His body seeming less hurt than each of the last blows, however even with unlocking this new form of strength, his body has taken too much and his consciousness faded as his body laid limp among the rubble.

Sylvester Sweet faintly attempted to remove the rope from his ankles, struggling to slip out of his opponent’s trap. Out of pity, bloodlust, or something else entirely, “Tight Noose,” let the rope fall off his foe, reeling in the tool. The cowboy stood back up, catching his breath. His attention falling away from Rascal Stone, he saw Klinghoffer locked in a mostly one sided conflict with his own half of their enemies. But, his brief stint as audience instead of participant came to an end with Rascal Stone’s decision to resume the fight. 

The cowboy backed away from Rascal’s initial jab, planting his feet to throw a punch in retaliation, only for the attack to be easily avoided. Frustrated with his opponent’s succeeding dodges, he pushed forward with his fists, doubling down on his offensive stance. Even with his top speed being put to good use, Rascal never felt more than the breeze from each punch, weaving through each one as if he’d already studied this fight’s choreography. This was not a problem with Sylvester’s accuracy. After failing to land a practiced combination, the cowboy again created space between the two of them with a quick strafe and sprint towards the canal. 

“Run anywhere you want, stranger,” Rascal Stone said, swinging his rope, which again began to turn some sickly black color. “I see your every move!” 

“Critical Pendulum!”

The black rope swung in a wide arc, the noose at the end looking to collide with Sylvester’s ribcage as it had before. Before the rope ever got close to Sylvester, his mind seemed to automatically play out its possible destination. Unfortunately, it seemed as if his head had been hit far too hard, as he imagined the rope swinging at Sylvester’s legs, instead of his ribcage. It was as if his instincts were trying to waste his thought power. The cowboy suppressed the thought, trusting his rational mind over his instincts and raised his own coil of rope. 

“Oh! Secratariat!”

He set up his defensive rope trick, twirling a hoop in front of his torso, hoping, he could catch the noose and halt Rascal Stone’s version of Rope Action. But, instead of going for Sylvester’s body, Rascal gave the rope a tight tug, pulling the noose down at the very last moment. A force like a cannon sent waves through Sylvester’s left leg, and the pirate captain was down on his knees, head ringing. Rascal Stone had incapacitated Sylvester’s quick movements, and had all the time in the world to leisurely approach and dirty up Sylvester’s shoulder with the man’s boot. 

Rascal Stone looked utterly disappointed in the performance his victim had put up, spitting into the canal behind him. “I’ve changed my mind,” he merely said. “I don’t care to dirty my rope with your neck.”

And just that sentence was the last thing before everything turned black for Sylvester Sweet.

Klinghoffer awoke in a dimly lit room, surrounded by scared and intrigued children, all dirty as in tattered clothing, he had to be somewhere in the slums, but where and more importantly, how? the last thing that he remembered was standing in the middle of the street in Slaughter Row, fighting Uther Lance and getting absolutely destroyed while doing so, then how did he get here? The last thing that happened was a third backhand that sent him through the wall, but the musician couldn't recall feeling pain at that moment, instead, he remembered a strange black coating of armour that encased his torso. Klinghoffer sat himself up and looked at his body, he had been stripped bare of his clothes sans his underpants and was patched up with bandages, taking further inspection it seemed that the bandages weren't done by some third-rate practitioner but seemed to be done by somebody who knew how to treat a wound, a doctor or surgeon perhaps. The musician looked around at the children, they all stared at him perplexed, like they were staring at a mythical beast or something that fits the position of a mythical beast, like healthcare for the people in the slums.

And at that moment he remembered that he was with one other when he took his mighty fall, "Sylvester... Sylvester where is he?!" Klinghoffer said trying to get up, as he did a woman came rushing in, pushing him back down on the bed. "Please calm down! Don't push yourself please, get as much rest as you need to heal your wounds!" The woman said as she fixed Klinghoffer's hair moving stray strands of hair off of his face, it was a face he definitely had seen before, one that he recognised. The cogs turned in the musicians clouded and hurting head until they finally fell into place, "You were one of the slaves, weren't you? From back over at that place in the... the bar.... Red Underbelly. How did you find me?" He said confused but grateful. The woman blushed and turned her head away, " it was nothing really, I went home and told my family that I was safe, then I went to meet up with all the other slaves at that building in Slaughter Row. But by the time I got there, it was too late, they were all on the floor lifeless, and there stood you two, fighting for us. So I hid and waited until they left and took you two to safety." She said you two, which meant that Sylvester was here in wherever they were as well, "hehe... Well thank you kindly and bless your soul for helping me and my friend out, but if I may ask, where is he?" Klinghoffer asked, looking around the room yet all he could see were the children who he realised were also slaves that he had freed. "Oh him, your friend is fine, we put him in the room next to yours." Oh thank god, he's safe The musician thought to himself as he stopped trying to get out of the bed and relaxed, hoping to let his injuries heal just a bit more.

Sylvester Sweet was sitting up straight in bed. Even with his underwear on and the bandages wrapped upon his body, the cowboy felt naked without his wardrobe, his weapons and his hat. But, the vulnerability he felt in that strange bed was nothing compared to being at the mercy of Rascal Stone. Nothing before that fight had ever pushed his senses or his mind to such an extreme extent, and the ache he felt was evidence enough of that very fact. He’d been defeated in the midst of a grand, heaping mess, and had done nothing to bring order to the world with his actions. Even his mind was in disarray during that fight. Still his head seemed to have some sort of instinctual urges that fought against his rational thinking.

Thinking back to fight in Slaughter Row, Sylvester could only come to one conclusion, one possibility for why things may have been changing so rapidly. It was all that damned guitarist’s fault. Klinghoffer Yamamoto was there at the beginning of this mess, and was there at the end. He was the idiot who freed the slaves, and who let that shipwright out of his grasp, and was probably the reason they’d now lost at the most important junction of the fight. What had he been thinking inviting that man onto his pirate crew?

Forgetting his clothes, the cowboy stood and left his room, looking about for any signs of life. He heard a conversation off to his right and went to investigate the adjacent room. There, in bed, was Klinghoffer, with a woman off to the side treating his wounds. Kids were huddled around the pair, now looking at Sylvester’s bare frame. The moment he saw Klinghoffer’s face, all that rage, and all that contempt washed away. His rational mind took a backseat to the relief he instinctively felt, and again the two were in conflict. It was just a less violent version of those two differing directions he felt. The only difference was that now, he knew exactly which one to trust. 

“Ain’t you better yet?” Sylvester asked his crew mate, arms crossed. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to take a catnap in the middle of a rodeo? How do you reckon we support a Jolly Roger like this, huh, partner? While we’ve been snoring the night away, those cattle rustlers are probably loading up that boat with as many people as they can fit!” Sylvester bent down to reach out an arm to his musician, only to his ribs buckle under the pressure, nearly sending him to his knees just like that. Still, he managed to extend a hand towards the bedridden Klinghoffer, looking the guy dead in the eyes, “Now are you coming with me, or not?”

Klinghoffer looked up at his partner who was holding out his hand, he gladly accepted it and grabbed onto it, pulling himself up and making his way out of the bed, stumbling onto his feet. "Please be careful! If you are going to go back out there, take this ointment and put it on the both of you, it should help you get in tip-top shape to take on those two vile creatures, we'll all be rooting for you so come back to visit when you win okay?" the girl said blushing, looking away from both of their exposed bodies, handing each of the pirates a special ointment, apparently meant to heal wounds quickly. "Thank you again for your hospitality, I am forever grateful of your deed," The musician said to the lady with a bright smile then turning to his partner who seemed equally as uncomfortable in their attire as he was. "Now cowboy we have a score to settle, but first we need our belongings" turning once more to look at the maiden who nursed them to health. "Of course! umm, let me get them for you right away!" the maiden left the room to fetch their clothes and weapons. "Heh, what a sweet girl."

A little later, the pair of plundering pirates were fully suited in their respective attire and had each applied the ointment to their wounds, with it came a tingly sensation that seemed to work wonders on the damage that had been done. "Alrighty then, we'll be seeing you, take care" Klinghoffer said as he walked out the door and into the cool dusk air, the night was falling upon Water 7, and so was the wrath of two vengeful pirates. "They have to be at the docks, the ship has probably been finished by now and they are so close to success. It's now or never man." The pair made their way through the town in the slowly fading light, setting the dark and suspenseful tone for the showdown that loomed over them, as they walked closer and closer to their final destination on this captive saving crusade, the warehouse slowly came into view and the end was upon them. The only thing left in their way of setting free all the slaves and stopping one of the massive slavery rings in Water Seven were two men, Uther and Rascal.

Sylvester Sweet moved towards the warehouse where he and Klinghoffer’s collaboration had first begun. Their chase for the criminals had come in full circle. It seemed their rest and recovery had lasted a full day, and Sylvester felt like he still needed a week’s worth of sleep. Even with his clothes clean and that ointment curbing the ache in his body, he wasn’t quite in peak physical condition. In the fifth warehouse of the seventh dock was the master work of the Red Forest Company, the boat Charon, in which plenty of human cargo had already been loaded. The cowboy was determined to finish what he’d started with the guitarist, and put an end to the chaos both these figures were bringing to the world. 

It seemed that the Six Barrel pair had put quite the dent into their forces, as the pair’s crews weren’t even bothering to stand guard, leaving the entrance to the ship wide open. There was no reason for Sylvester to pass up that opportunity. He walked through the entrance into the dock, taking stock of the full ship. Standing among some figures on the main deck were both Uther Lance and Rascal Stone, barking orders around to their men and the cargo that solemnly marched to their doom. As bad as Sylvester hated felt about inviting rogue forces into his operations, Klinghoffer had been right when he freed those slaves. And now, more than ever, they’d need all the help they could get.

From below the main deck of Charon, Sylvester took a deep breath before shouting, “YOU THERE!!! IN CHAINS!!!” his booming voice seized the attention of just about everyone on the ship. Most were confused at this screaming stranger, but Rascal Stone was purely disgusted, baring his teeth in a sneer. “IS THIS HOW YOU DIE?!”

“This stupid cowboy!” “Tight Noose,” muttered under his breath, knuckles going white with rage.

“You’re free now!” Sylvester continued, every word flying off the cuff and resounding throughout the ship. If his words failed him here, there might not be any chance of success. “You’re free to decide!” he told the slaves, then violently jerked his finger towards the train of shackled people, seized by Sylvester’s speech. “We are the Six Barrel Pirates! You are not the first slaves we’ve freed from the grip of these villains! But, if you trust in us… if you fight alongside us… right now… then you’ll have already been freed by your own hand!” 

There was a brief pause of contemplation. Slaves, pirates and shipwrights looked about to see who would make the first move. Finally, one aged man in shackles yelled out in some blistering rage and lurched out towards the nearest pirate. He punched the man in the jaw, and the surprise took the pirate to the floor. That single action was enough to inspire the entire ship into a violent, discordant mess of action, all spurred on by Sylvester Sweet’s words. And, Rascal Stone was all too aware of that fact. 

The pirate captain grabbed Uther Lance, who was laughing like a child at the slapstick shenanigans of a fight happening on the main deck. Both their subordinates had been tangled up trying to wrangle the slaves back into line. Rascal Stone pointed down to the Six Barrel Pirates. “We should’ve killed these troublemakers the first time around! This time, don’t hesitate!” Rascal said, and leapt off the main deck, towards Sylvester, who merely retreated away from the villain’s landing.

“I know there’s probably more honor in those one on one duels,” Sylvester said to Klinghoffer, “and, honestly, it’s a much prettier way of fighting, but, what say we tackle these rustlers as a team, partner? We won’t be taking any catnaps this time around!”

The pair walked onto the ship and as their opponents came into sight, Sylvester yelled out to the slaves that they were driving further into the ship. Was he insane? Had he just thrown all of his previous thoughts aside and gone crazy? Either way, Klinghoffer liked this change of heart, it was more human and more empathetic. The pair of Evil-Doers jumped down onto the deck, readying themselves, "Let's put these fools and their plans six feet under, as a team" Klinghoffer said to his partner with a grin. The musician remembered back to their last fight and how they started off separated and got destroyed, he remembered that Uther is big on straight forward physical attacks and Rascal was definitely not a novice with a lasso. The fight would probably go in Six Barrel's favour if they managed to use their skills as a duo to their advantage and focused in on their unconventionality as a team. The first to make their move was Rascal Stone, throwing his lasso out and over to Sylvester in an attempt to end this whole escapade by catching the both of them in one fell swoop. Unfortunately for Rascal, the Six Barrel Musician had different plans for how this fight would go, Klinghoffer strummed his guitar and let out a sound wave at Rascal's noose, shooting his attack out of the sky.



Stone's lasso laid limp on the floor in between the two parties, obviously not happy with the outcome, "So that's how it's going to be huh cowboy? Get your subordinate to do your dirty work for you, or are you still embarrassed about how i beat your ass last time and I'll kill you this time!" Rascal yelled out in an outraged state, to back up Rascal came Uther, he charged out from Rascal's side towards Klinghoffer. Before Uther could make it past his business partner's lasso, the musician strummed his guitar once again but this time it was a Minor Inversion Triad, stopping Uther in his tracks but not halting Rascal. "Your time to shine partner, just make sure to leave something for me atleast." Klinghoffer said calmly to Sylvester followed by a cheeky wink.

Sylvester Sweet was charmed to see the pair frozen for a moment, even if it looked like that musical spell was already wearing off. Dealing with these two, Sylvester knew they’d need some sort of physical advantage over them, and he pulled out his revolver to deliver just that unto the foes. A few well placed shots would certainly be a pain for Stone and Lance to deal with, but as he took steady aim, the cowboy gained a sense of the battlefield before him. Uther Lance was poised to pounce on the guitarist the moment he was free. It certainly wouldn’t do to have Klinghoffer be attacked like that. Switching out the gun for his rope, Sylvester had a change of plans. 

“Initial Trick!”

The lasso wound its way around Klinghoffer, and Sylvester spun on his heels, hoping the guitarist would catch on to the idea sooner rather than later. Whipping Klinghoffer around and upwards, he tried to deliver his partner onto the main deck where the enemies had come from. The moment the attempt was finished, Sylvester turned back around and leveled the revolver once again, but at that point it was far too late. 

“Stealing Spectre!”

“Armament Terra!”

Rascal Stone’s technique swiftly cut through the air towards Sylvester’s revolver, and the weapon had to be abandoned to save the cowboy’s hand from getting caught up in the small noose. But, before the gun could clatter all the way out of the dock, Uther had begun using his own attack. Plunging a foot into the stone sidewalk, he kicked up a small rock and punched the clump of earth towards Sylvester, with the stone lined by strange black markings that seemed to sprout from Uther’s fist. As the projectile hurtled towards him, Sylvester felt that cracking down his brain, the same one he’d felt when he fought Rascal before. But, this time, he didn’t even need to think about which option he’d decide. 

That instinctual feeling had led Sylvester to pick up the guitarist standing above him. It had led him to show off the Jolly Roger he was so proud of. It had led him to challenge these men even with insurmountable odds in his path. Hell, it was probably what pushed him to leave the West Blue in the first place. It was there when he chose what hat he’d wear in the morning, and how to best arrange his home’s furniture, and nagged at him relentlessly to clean up the great disarray of the Grand Line. He’d been listening to it all his life, there was no reason to stop now. 

“Oh! Secretariat!”

A hoop in his rope was spun at intense speeds, and the rock was caught up in the tight pull of the defense, pulled aside harmlessly. There was hardly any split, and hardly any anguish for the man now. Sylvester felt truly free. 

“Critical Pendulum!”

The black noose came swinging by, but instead of a cannonball, Sylvester lazily cracked a smile at the imagery of the rope moving like a grandfather clock. He went against rationality, and somersaulted over the rope’s swing, because he had no doubt in his mind it would look cool as all hell.

“Armament Arm Thrust!”

The sensible decision might have been to weave out of Uther’s blistering punch, but it seemed sensibility had completely fallen away to style. Sylvester quickly ducked and curled backwards, raising up his feet where his body used to be so fast that the kick pushed Uther Lance away, giving the cowboy ample room to reverse his body and get his heels under his head once again. He calmly reached down and picked up his hat, dusting it off from the dirt on the docks. 

“What’s the matter, y’all?” he asked the pair, frozen now by pure confusion instead of musical prowess, “I ain’t moving too fast for ya, am I now?”

Klinghoffer was flung up onto the deck of the Charon, he looked around to search for the imprisoned slaves, he turned his head down and looked into the brig and found the whole lot of the slaves. "Hey I'm gonna get you out!" The musician says as he runs to the door that opens the brig, the musician tugs at the door and notices that it has been welded shut. "Everybody stand back! I'm going to bust this nut right open!" he says as he slings his guitar into his grasp and plays it with a loud [i]Twang![i] He fires a Double Stop Destruction at the door and blasts it wide open, sending splinters everywhere as the door slams down on the floor. The sound of the door echoed throughout the now silent brig, everybody astonished at the musician's capabilities, "Be free everyone! I'll deal with these fools and settle the score" The musician said as the slaves rushed out of the brig, up the stairs and off of the ship, Klinghoffer made his way through the crowd up onto the main deck once more, looking upon the righteous chaos that was spreading down the ramp onto the ship and out of the docks, interrupting the fight that was amidst. All of the commotion caused by the now free slaves had obscured the view of all the combatants, leaving Klinghoffer in the perfect position to strike.

"What's going on?! HOW COULD THIS BE?! YOU LOW LIVES ARE GOING TO REGRET CROSSING ME!!" Rascal yelled from the crowd, giving away his location, "AHAHAHA! I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD BUSINESS PLAN! I SHOULD NEVER HAVE TRUSTED YOU RASCAL!" Uther said as he started to wade is way through the crowd in the direction of Rascal's deep voice, yet he was pushed in the wrong direction by the flow of the escaping slaves, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of the dock and within range of Klinghoffer. The musician slid the strap of his guitar off and held Layla by the neck, wielding it like some sort of sword or axe, he leapt off of the ship and descended upon Uther, his mind traveling through the moments of his life that have carried significant weight on who he is today, the day he became a musician, the day he met Layla, the day he lost Layla and gained his guitar, naming it after her.

Finally, his mind came across the moment that rekindled his fire for reclaiming the one he lost, when he stood up to Uther and kept getting up and trying again and again, awakening a power that gave him the means to do so. With that memory in his mind, a black armour coated his arm and guitar, imbuing him with a feeling of power and hope and in that moment, there felt like only two people were there on that whole dock, Klinghoffer and Uther. Uther turned his attention from getting to Rascal upwards, looking at the death coming at him from above, "Stardust Standard!!" he yelled out as he wound up and swung at Uther with almighty force, repeatedly hitting him with a barrage of strikes until he was knocked into the ground, smashing the cold stone ground below them. All of the slaves had evacuated the Charon, surrounding the fight and blocking off the rest of the shipyard leaving just the three of them left. Rascal Stone, Sylvester Sweet and Klinghoffer Yamamoto, he lifted up his guitar and pointed it at Rascal, "You're next..." the musician said in a serious tone.

Rascal looked at the musician, with his eyes wide open in awe, the leader of Under Station then looked at his former business partner who would lie there dead in a crater of rubble. This fight meant more than just a few slaves, It was life or death for the whole of the slums of Water 7.

Sylvester Sweet watched all around him, as a march of slaves escaped the ship of death, flooding the docks and breaking up the confrontation between the cowboy and his opponents. It was no doubt the work of that free wheeling guitarist up on the craft behind Sylvester. It was troubling to see the neatness of the fight broken up by these uninvited guests, but he was far flying into the rage he’d felt the other day. Especially when his partner crashed the party and brought Uther Lance down for good, that great vibe Sylvester was feeling had no end in sight. To the cowboy’s shock, the slaves didn’t actually escape after leaving their would-be prison, instead sticking around to watch the events unfold.
 
Rascal Stone was seething. The pirate stared daggers at Klinghoffer, and it didn’t take a genius to guess where he’d be trying to put his noose next. “Sorry, ‘Tight Noose,’” Sylvester said, stepping between the man’s eyeline and the guitarist. “He’s my crew mate, and you’ll have to get through me first.” He pointed his finger like a handgun, first at Rascal and then towards the slaves, hoping his message would get through to them. “And there ain’t no damn way in hell that you’re getting through me, partner!” His boastful words sent the slaves into a frenzy. All they wanted was to see this guy get what he had coming to him.

“Critical Crow!”

Sylvester wrapped up his arms in his rope tightly, as if handcuffing them together with a network of rope binding his limbs, bracing for the incoming attack. Instead of the black noose swinging wide, it was launched out like a cannon, headed straight for the cowboy. It seemed stronger, but the direct approach made it easy pickings for Sylvester’s makeshift defense. He caught the noose with his rope and got it caught up in his thickly woven spider web.

With Rascal’s own rope caught, he pulled tight against his opponent, only for the opposing captain to do the same. They’d been caught in a tug of war over this black tether, with neither fighter looking to lose ground, and dozens of men and women from all walks of life discordantly cheering Sylvester to overtake his foe. Finally, hand over hand, Sylvester gained a length of rope and Rascal’s eyes went wide behind those sunglasses. “I’m not as careless as you, stranger!” he said, “I won’t be losing my weapon!”

At that declaration, Rascal tied a slack portion of the rope around his hand, copying the knots Sylvester had performed with his own. With that, he was grinning ear to ear, as if that was all it was going to take to win. He pulled back with every muscle in his body, gaining a length for himself, feeling as if he’d soon come out on top. 

“It ain’t ‘stranger,’ partner!” the cowboy said, “It’s Sylvester Sweet! The Six Barrel Pirates have moved into town! And, frankly, I reckon Water 7 ain’t big enough for the two of us!”

“My thoughts, exactly, stranger,” Rascal said, gaining another length of rope over Sylvester’s struggling arms. “Now, you’d better let go of the hangman’s rope!” he ordered his foe before again pulling one hand over the other, bringing the two closer together yet again. “Because I won’t lose it for as long as I live!”

Sylvester pulled back with all his might, bringing his back near to the floor in a surge of strength, “My hopes, exactly,” he let go with one arm, reaching back towards the cheering slaves, praying dearly one of them had figured out what it was he was point at. From the crowd, a young man tossed out Trust, spinning through the air and into the cowboy’s hand. Pulling back on the rope, Sylvester brought himself up to his feet, and ran towards Rascal Stone squeezing the trigger over and over towards the man.

But, like the last time they fought, Rascal easily avoided the bullets coming his way, hardly moving to dodge. Sylvester ran right by him, and then strafed around, looking for a better opportunity to fire off his empty revolver. Each time, he changed position, Rascal looked ready to dodge, until finally, the captain of Under Station came to realize what was happening. But, by then, Sylvester was pulling tight on the hangman’s rope, completely constricting his opponent. 

All that running around, Sylvester had been tying up his opponent. Feinting with the tug of war, feinting with the revolver and finally having captured his opponent. Rascal Stone opened his mouth to deliver what would’ve surely been a scathing remark, but Sylvester was already sick of the man’s voice and swung with all his might at the guy’s jaw, sending him to the floor, caught up in his own rope.

This was it, the end Klinghoffer's first voyage as a member of the Six Barrel Pirates, they had set out to do what they wanted to do, they destroyed the slavery ring and stopped the pair of evil-doers were they stood. Now all they had to do was end it how they saw fit, Klinghoffer turned to where he believed that the remaining shipwrights were, but just like their plans for the slaves they were long gone, nowhere to be seen. The musician then turned to the crowd that seemed extremely pleased to see the demise of the monsters that imprisoned them, "Thank you, everyone, for giving us the support we needed to triumph over those monsters! We are the Six Barrel Pirates, we don't demand you repay us, hell we don't even need you to thank us! All we want is a better world for everyone and you can do your part by helping make the slums a better place for everyone." Klinghoffer addressed the slaves with confidence.


Joining the Six Barrel had broken the musician free of his slavery to the chains of obscurity and hopelessness, before he had encountered Sylvester he was alone in the world, after losing two homes he had set out to prove himself in the grand line. Only to find that he would quickly lose motivation and all hope of gaining what he had lost, the only thing he could do was keep on helping people instead of helping himself. On the surface, Klinghoffer led people on to assume that he was a shallow, reckless musician who had a boner for helping people that were worse off than himself, all the while lowering his own status doing so. However this voyage had given him the resolve to keep going, he once again had the motivation to climb to the very top, he looked over to his partner then walked to him, his expression changing from a serious demeanour to a cheerful smile. "We did it! I guess we can keep this ship in commemoration of that huh? Oh shit! We have to let that girl know that we won! Won't that put a smile on all those kids' faces, I'd say this was a job well-done partner..." Klinghoffer says to Sylvester holding out his hand for a firm handshake, "You know.... The Charon is a beautiful name for a ship that will be the symbol of the Six Barrel Pirates." the musician said, turning away from his friend and starting to walk off. "I'm gonna go on ahead and tell the kids the good news, drinks on me when you decide to show up. See you.....Space Cowboy..."

Klinghoffer took one last look at Sylvester, giving him a nod and a simple smile before running off into the night. He sprinted through the crisp air of the moonlit Water Seven, through the empty pathways of the docks into the even more desolate streets of the slums. It was all silent in the slums district, all silent but the heavy breathing and rhythmic footsteps of the musician as he made his way back to the woman that saved his life. The pace of his footsteps decelerated as he arrived at the house, the street was dark, Klinghoffer was bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The door in front of him opened, shining a warm light that cut through the darkness of the street, inside was the woman, with tears welling up in her eyes and a smile on her face, the musician looked up at her and smiled, still breathing heavily. In that moment there was no need for words, the expressions on their faces said it all, they embraced tightly then she invited him inside for some rest.

They both sat on a worn couch in front of a small wood fire, the two shared laughs, experiences and finally, their names. Hers was Mai, she had lived in the slums her whole life and managed to study enough books to become a doctor, she wanted some way to repay Klinghoffer's kindness in releasing her and all the other slaves, so he asked her to join him in Sylvester's crew and travel the world with them, helping those who need it. She gladly accepted with a tear in her eye, glad that she could put her freedom and knowledge to good use. And that was that for the tale of Klinghoffer's first Voyage as a real pirate, all the Good Intentions and Bad Machinations that were had on the journey wrapped up nicely as a story that would be chronicled for generations.

-Exit Klinghoffer-

Sylvester Sweet couldn’t help but relinquish a laugh at the guitarist when he ran off like a child offering drinks. A hand reached up to the cowboy’s lips, and he was surprised to actually hear the noise come from his mouth. It’d been a while since he’d laughed so honestly at something somebody else had done. It felt nice, but strange, the latter of which seemed to be a recurring theme with Klinghoffer. 

Once he’d finally left, some of the slaves had stuck around, celebrating with one another and professing what they’d do with their newfound freedom. Hearing that, he picked up the unconscious, bound Rascal Stone and walked towards the massive party. “A gift from us,” Sylvester said, feeling it right to keep in the spirit of Klinghoffer’s actions, despite the discord they tended to cause. “There’s quite the price on this man’s head! Why not start your new lives with some beli in your pockets?!” Realizing the worth of the man they were being handed, a few of the bigger men from the group picked him up, holding the figure high in celebration. Their first task in mind, the strangest group of bounty hunters ran off into the night, looking for a marine to turn in their prize.

With the slaves, shipwrights and enemies gone, Sylvester Sweet turned back to Charon, and thought on Klinghoffer’s appraisal of the vessel. The massive craft could certainly benefit from a makeover of sorts. But, with some strain of his imagination he could picture that Jolly Roger flying high atop the ship of death. Though it was quite a bit of space for just a few crew mates, Sylvester figured they’d probably need quite the crew to man it. And, besides, there were so many things that he still needed to accomplish while he was on Water 7. The Red Forest Company and Under Station were just like faint premonitions of the possible struggles that still existed on this island. 

Sylvester recalled the mass of articles and evidence on the wall of his hideout, each detailing any number of crimes, conspiracies and trade rings he still needed to end. The past few days had scrubbed quite a bit of the grime from the world, but there was still a great deal left to clean and organize, all across the Grand Line. And, it didn’t look like anyone else was going to do it. Thinking more closely about his hideout, Sylvester realized he wouldn’t have to put up with those shanty digs any longer. Sylvester had a whole ship for his crew! For all of his clothes! For sensibly stylish interior decorating!