"You've done it now, I tried to be nice" Klinghoffer says taking the offensive, strikes down with his improvised weapon with consecutive swings then moving on to defence. The fight went on in a back an forth manner, first Klinghoffer would strike, then followed up Nisha, this cycle would repeat for a long time, with Nisha gaining the upper hand with every move made. Nisha charged at the musician, knocking him down on the floor with her on it, "Ummm awkward, I thought you didn't like me like that huh?" he said, pushing her off and rolling away, standing up a few meters away from her. "Oh honey, I'm hooooome!" the musician said, charging at her with his arms open for a hug, Nisha was confused on if he genuinely was going in for a hug or if this was another one of his schemes. Choosing the latter, Nisha let off a round of multiple spinning crescent moon kicks, knocking Klinghoffer down onto the floor visibly bruised and beaten up as he laid there on the ground. He spat out blood, and began to roll, avoiding Nisha's constant axe kicks in her impatient attempt to finish her dashing opponent off.

"All good things come to those who wait my sweet...Nancy? .....Naomi? ....Natasha? No... Nicole? ....Aha! Nisha is your name" Klinghoffer said as he stood up, pointing his metal pipe at Nisha's face. "H-How did you know that? I didn't tell you my name?" She asked in complete confusion, "It's on your nametag, see?" the musician said as he pointed down slightly upward at her chest. "Really? she asked, looking down at the absence of a name tag. At that moment of realisation, Klinghoffer wound up his metal pipe and swung it up straight into her jaw, lifting her slightly off of the ground, now was the time for Klinghoffer's all-star improvisation moment.

Stardust Standard!

Klinghoffer starts unleashing a barrage of bludgeoning attacks with the metal pipe, smacking Nisha and hitting her time after time. "ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!!!" the musician yelled with each hit that he swung with the pipe. By the time the barrage finished she was sent flying, skidding across the floor and stopped against the wall, Klinghoffer stood there and struck a pose, his open hand covering the smug look on his face. He looked around triumphantly, but something was off, maybe the fight wasn't fully over yet.

“Unfortunately,” Kong Y. Glaive said, “my combat has its own weaknesses,” the tall man revealed, and opened his coat. Lining his jacket were a plethora of crossbows, each one empty of its ammunition, and their strings loose. Sylvester quickly appraised the weapons before looking at the revolutionaries and putting the facts together. “Cover me,” Kong ordered his subordinates, “I must reload.” And that order was all that was required for his ten subordinates to spring into action, breaking formation and charging towards Sylvester.

In an instant, Sylvester was on the backfoot, retreating away from the all-out assault. The moment he dodged the swing of one hammer, another came through from a different direction, each pushing him somewhere new. One deadly arc came for his temple, he weaved to his left to find another hammer headed for his kneecap, and he pivoted around it only to come into the path of a third hammer that landed straight into his sternum, flinging Sylvester back even further. He had come into a golden opportunity to attack the obstacle in his path, but was instead being kept away from the target.
 
Standing up from the hammer attack, he felt his chest heave and shudder, like his skeleton was about to cave in just from the force of breathing. He needed to turn this fight around immediately. The cowboy leveled his gun, Trust, at the approaching fighters, firing three rounds into the crowd. Every one of them only rang off their heavy aprons, causing little more than a momentary flinch in their charge. Half his ammunition was gone and he hadn’t made a dent. But, with the sound of those bouncing bullets, he’d realized the real flaw in these fighters, and more importantly, in Kong’s commands. 

Sylvester turned back to the auction house to see exactly what he’d hoped for. The marines he’d released were surprisingly holding their own. And, when criminals of all walks of life saw the law enforcement back on their feet, it had unified them, giving the fight two clear and clean sides, with the auction’s customers forming a large ring around the defending marines squadron. Though his breathing was quite labored, Sylvester’s speed still allowed him to keep ahead of the weighted subordinates, leading them in a train towards the two rings of conflict. 

“Oh! Dust Commander!”

In a column of dust and pebbles, the cowboy had disappeared from the subordinates’ sight. Assuming the cowboy was hiding amongst the criminals, the hammer-wielding party burst right into the outer ring, which of course led them to think they were fighting with the marines. They’d found another enemy, and were happy to fight against them before diving onto the marines. 

Kong Y. Glaive’s command was meant to stop everyone from exiting the auction house for whatever reason. But, it seemed the man was completely oblivious to the very way Sylvester had entered in from. Finding the hole in the wall where he’d entered Pumpkin Sabbath, Sylvester made his exit, running back down the dark tunnel. Looking towards its entrance into the night air, he saw it clear of people this time, there was only the faint outline of a small ship illuminated by the moon and stars.

Willow had it cut out for him, he was getting beat and battered, but he had time to consider his actions. There was one thing that Johannes wasn't good at, something that Willow recalled from the past. This guy didn't have what it took to deliver blow after blow, he relied on single destructive blows while contemplating on his next move. Nor did he make the first move. So Willow had to approach this from a tactical standpoint.

He wasn't the smartest, but he wasn't someone that went in without a plan nor was he a muscle head by any standards. So he simply had to think, but he didn't have much time to think with the boat slowly taking on more water. And the more the hull started to take on water, the greater the risk of the pressure cracking open that hole larger and sinking it faster. Johannes knew that he was with the powers of a devil fruit. Johannes knew that he couldn't swim now and that keeping him on the boat was one way to be done with him.

Johannes just stood there, tightening and loosening his grip on the strange grooves in his new hammer's handle. Willow was just staring him down, running scenario after scenario in his head. This was Willow's true nature, someone who could read what people were like, someone who could understand somewhat of what another person was going to do combat wise by staring them dead in the eyes.

In the first scenario he could run and try to juke around the guy by using Summer Solstice, but that would leave him airborne and he would likely get sweep kicked in the stomach and sent into the water directly after striking the wall on the other end of the underground canal, or straight through the deck of the ship and into the water to incapacitated. Scenario one was a no go in his mind. Scenario two would be trying to use a direct confrontation and clashing with Johannes directly before he could use the resistance of two forces against each other as a fulcrum to use his weapon as a lever and launch himself straight over the gargantuan man. But in that scenario Johannes could just as easily grab Willow with his free hand and throw him back down for a good old hammer smashing.

It went on like this, his mind rushing to think of something and only getting frustrated. This all spanned about thirty seconds and neither fighter made a move except for Willow standing up on the deck now and getting ready to make his move.

"First: You may take all of the time you wish to attack. Second: I will not be making any attacks on someone who is bound for death no matter what course of action they take. Third: By the time you have a strategy in mind, you will be on the bottom of the ocean flo--WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" He barked at Willow suddenly, cartoon graphics in effect as his eyes were all white and jaw lined with jagged teeth and triangular in shape as a reaction to what Willow was doing.

What was Willow doing? Well he turned around and booked it for the life boat! When he got to it, he swung Shepherd with all of his might, at the behest of the voice coming out of the headset, "Life boat...quick!" It seemed that whoever was talking to himw as on his side. Now he was playing gondola operator as the boat let loose from the ropes holding it to the main body and leapt off into it to start using the paddles like a motor.

Just like when he runs away in a powerful sprint, Willow's eyes were bulged out and mouth hanging open as he was shouting incoherent noises as those paddles dug through the water and cast up the foam just like a motorized vessel! A zig-zag in the water was made as he went along with a wide sweep around from the side of the boat back onto land with the thanks of the tunnel opening being so large. Once he was back on land, he gave it a swift kiss and got to his feet to run further inland while Johannes just grimaced with a twitch above one eye and a twitch under the other.

"First: You make a mockery of our way of life. Second: You destroy an entire section of a town just for your own selfish reasons. Third: You can't even fight like a man!? You are not worth all of this, but for the sake of the Lhao Zhuu, I will squash you and bring back whatever paste remains!"

Willow turned around, running backwards in a light jog as Johannes leapt off of the boat and came crashing down, bringing that hammer with him as the stones of the walkway flew, sending Willow further inland, riding on one of the rocks.

"Thank you! I appreciate it! Also, kindly screw off! You're bugging me." Was this a plan? Or was this just to be a twat? Either way, Johannes was getting angry and rushing in after Willow as the stone came to the ground. He was fast, and Willow hadn't accounted for that. When the hammer swung around and struck that stone while it was airborne, Willow was sent flying back into the main auction area, where the stone would hit the ground, and Willow would slam into the wall, after tumbling through several still standing members of the auction. Everyone was down save for the main players in the fight.

As Willow started to help himself up and cough and sputter out blood, he glared at the sight of the silhouette of Johannes coming into view, "Crap--Should have thought his muscles could back up movement like that." He needed a moment to relax, thankfully Johannes didn't put a lot of effort into running when he wanted to make his actions to have a much larger impact, as if every step had meaning to the poetic justice of his actions, what a drama queen, Willow thought.

Klinghoffer was now the only pirate in the room, he looked over at his unconscious opponent, then over at his surroundings. The room was filled with revolutionaries and goons of Johannes, the musician tugs at his collar like the air was getting thin in the area, "Sheesh.... Is it just me or is it hot in here...? ehehe...." he says awkwardly as he slowly walks back to the staircase. As he felt around for the handrail on the side of the staircase he bumped into something or someone for that matter, Klinghoffer turned his head to see what he bumped into, it was a large man who was blocking the exit. "Excuse me sir...." the musician apologises as he tries to slip past him only to get pushed back into the room, landing flat on his backside. The room was now restless with something to tear apart, there was a vicious intent in the air and that air was wafting towards the musician, "Look, fellas, you fine gentlemen have the wrong guy I swear, I didn't do any of this. You see I'm just a fine man who was in the market for some antiquities, so naturally, my refined tastes brought me here to this fine establishment."

Johannes' men looked at Klinghoffer and his previous opponent Nisha, who now laid on the floor knocked out, to them it was obvious who was the enemy here. The group of men began to charge at the musician with a murderous vibe coming off of all of them, all the while Kong was still looking for Sylvester's escape route, too preoccupied to participate in the fight. "Can't we settle this civilly like proper gentlemen? Oh forget it, you are all assholes!" Klinghoffer said as he began to sprint away from the enemies and looked for a way to fight back in a stylish fashion. The musician slid under one of the many tables set up in the room for refreshments and appetisers, proceeding to flip the table on the subordinates, staggering their full frontal assault, he then rushed over to a lonesome fireplace that gave the auction house a warm rustic setting. Picking up a poker that laid beside it and faked a fencing stance, when he was growing up it was a custom for everyone in his noble family to fence, at this time in his life Klinghoffer really regretted blowing off fencing lessons to impress girls and hang out with his friends. "If anyone would like to help me it would sure be appreciated!" the musician said, fending back Johannes' subordinates.

Sylvester Sweet emerged from the tunnel he’d entered the auction from, startled to hear something come bursting into the floor from outside. He expected a large crowd outside to account for that sound, but when he came into the night sky, there was nobody else out there, save for a sinking ship. It found itself completely submerged, and Sylvester found himself completely alone, but seeing the gap through the wall into the auction house, he noticed it was its own sort of rudimentary tunnel. Instead of look back at the disturbing chaos of what used to be Pumpkin Sabbath, Sylvester merely sat down on the stone floor and went to work reloading his revolver. 

The task only occupied his hands, however, his mind was busy at work establishing a plan of action. He still hadn’t found his partner in crime, and the situation back in the auction house was absolutely ludicrous. Sylvester needed a way to establish a dominance more permanent than the fleeting control he’d held over the people there. But, the only reason he’d even been able to exert influence over the crowd was because they assumed Ms. Dufort was on his side. Inserting the last round snug into its chamber, the obvious realization struck Sylvester in the face. 

He needed to find the manager of Pumpkin Sabbath herself. If Klinghoffer had been captured by her enforcers, or if she was still hoarding items to sell, then capturing her would be a necessary step for the operation anyways. Sylvester was relieved to have established a clean and simple objective for himself, and holstered his revolver, content to begin his search. Before he could, the cowboy was frozen. Sylvester hadn’t the foggiest clue of where to even begin looking.
 
Re-thinking his strategy, he heard a loud voice from the artificial tunnel into Pumpkin Sabbath asking out for help. In an instant, Sylvester had recognized the voice as Klinghoffer’s and went rushing through the tunnel and back into the house. Long ago, jumping into a disorganized fray might have been the last option he would consider, but now, there was no hesitation in his action. Beginning another trip into the subterranean auction house, he tried to yell through the tunnel to preface his arrival. “Hang tight partner, the cavalry is riding in!” 

Ms. Dufort would simply have to be dealt with later.

As the dust was settling in the room, there were not many bodies left standing. Johannes was in one part of the room, Willow was in the other. Johannes was relatively uninjured, and Willow was huffing and puffing while standing among the various felled bodies in the auction room. Some having lost their lives, some having been knocked out and bleeding out currently. It was truly a bloodbath to say the least. But rather than fight, Johannes dropped his weapon for a moment. Willow held up his weapon and let it fold up into its storage form, tucking it away behind his back.

"First, while I do not wish to allow you a moment to rest, I will uphold the traditions of the people. Second, I am somewhat pleased to see you still hold some traditions in high regard. Third, you will be crushed regardless of how much rest you ge-"

"Man you really don't know when to shut up. Shut your mouth, pick a god and pray." Willow said tersely, the one time he has defied Johannes, even going as far as to tell Johannes what to do. It seemed that Willow was at one of his soft points. He always believed in revering the dead. Before getting to praying, he would take the time to collect the bodies and line them up, making sure that they were decent to face upwards to the sky. If they were not decent for an open casket, they would have their faces covered with cloths.

After every fallen body was accounted for and the room was cleared, Willow and Johannes worked together oddly enough, collecting their weapons to lie them in a pile of broken pieces of wood, almost in the shape of a bonfire. When everything was stacked together, Johannes came over with a set of oil lamps and Willow looked up at the tall guy. They had a moment of eye contact before the fire was set to the wood and weapons. They were not needed anymore, their holders having laid down for the last time.

With the fire set, Willow and Johannes took time to sit down, legs crossed, heads bent down to avert their gaze to the ground, both of them with their eyes closed. Over their laps their hands were together. The tips of their fingers together at the index and pinky fingers, the ring and middle fingers of their hands laced together as the two sat as far from one another on either side of the room. They were both taking time to pray! On the field of a battle no less. But this was the way of their people. Willow being one of the biggest supporters of this tradition. And the act of striking a warrior that was not raising their weapon to you was against the Yulkan tribe's way.

Willow Ooala Omens was someone who always looked for his ultimate grave spot, but when it came to seeing someone who lost their life, especially in such a senseless way, he couldn't hep but feel sorrowful. Despite being battered, bruised and bleeding, he was shedding tears for the loss of life of people he didn't even know. The droplets of salty water falling down onto his hands folded in prayer. This would continue for close to five minutes, five whole minutes where anything could happen, but two warriors simply sat here, praying over the bodies of the dead before the silence was broken by Willow.

"Why do the Lhao Zhuu hate freedom so much? And for the love of all things holy, just give me a single bullet point answer."

"Fir--We all know the rules of our people. The Lhao Zhuu islands are run like a business and a tight knit business of tribes interacting with each other. You have so much among the tribes, so many people to interact with and pick from. What want would you have to see the world boy? What would be the point of causing such destruction just for the sake of your own selfish desires when you are not even a Pilgrim?"

"Okay first: it was a single ammo warehouse, and a single candle over a pool of oil, how bad could it have been? And second: I like to think of myself as a Seeker of Tales. Why wouldn't you be enamored with the lands you visit when you see all of the interesting islands. It's like going to an enclosure of animals, a zoo almost. But instead of each island being the zoo, I felt like we were the animals and we were going for them to see us. I just couldn't take that--I wanted to see the world beyond the border of my tribe's damned boat." Willow sighed and finally looked up while Johannes looked back at Willow.

When the two locked eyes again, Johannes could only sigh and slowly stand up, his frame towering over Willow who was struggling to get up to his feet. "First, I would love to crush you right now. Second, I would be lying if I had said I did not think about what the world looked like. Third, It is thanks to you that the Lhao Zhuu are allowing hunters from all over seek you out and explore the new lands, exposing them to cultures they have not been exposed to before. Fourth, I should give you thanks for all of this. Fifth, it would be shameful to strike you down when you are not at your prime condition or without your weapon in hand. Sixth, it would be in poor taste to request you to brandish your weapon when you can barely stand. Finally, you may go--this once."

"What?" He asked while breathing heavily, one eye half closed, the other nearly shut as he looked at Johannes while getting to his feet in a shaky manner.

"Do not look down upon this gift Willow Ooala Omens. Begone, I will find you again. We will both be stronger. And I will show you the might of adhering to the laws of the tribe. DO NOT make me regret giving you this luxury. You honored one of the most upheld traditions of our people, you are not as vile as they have made you out to be."

"I--" Willow was at a loss for words, but there was something that continued to speak, something only he could hear as the voice in the headphones statically spoke to him in a few brief words, "Stand...move...comrades..."

Willow tugged his jacket taut over his body, that hood pulled up over his head while he held onto his ribs and started to limp past Johannes. "You hit like a sea king." Willow mumbled under his breath as he walked past Johannes, giving respect for a warrior he was beaten by and allowed to live by their grace, another tradition he seemed to honor which made Johannes smile a little while he lifted up that hammer and proceeded to start to pummel the room and cause enough of a ruckus to make it believable there was a fight in there.

Now Willow was looking to meet up with Klinghoffer and SYlvester, hopefully he would find them, or they would find him, before he passed out!

Across the room from Willow was the struggling musician fighting against a hoard of Johannes' goons with only a poker, from an unknown direction Sylvester yelled out to the musician letting him know that he was on his way, that meant that it was time to end these shenanigans with one strum. Klinghoffer dropped the poker and slung his guitar into his grasp, and strummed a loud Minor Inversion Triad. With a loud Wah! all of the subordinates went still and the musician's small chuckle grew into a loud laugh, "Mwahaha! you feeble beings don't know the wrath of the Smooth Criminal, but you will.... and it tastes a little like this!" Klinghoffer let out as he picked up the poker once again and started to whack the living hell out of them, beating them all down onto the floor. The last person in the room who is of any threat is Kong, who was before looking for how his opponent had escaped had now loaded up multiple crossbows and the crosshairs all pointed to the triumphant musician.

With a simple "Oh shit..." the game of cat and mouse and begun, Klinghoffer took evasive maneuvers and began running away, throwing random pieces of furniture to obscure Kong's shot. Bolts flew through the air in the musician's direction, all hitting just off the target, he rolled and weaved to avoid the fire until the battle was halted by revolutionary foot soldier who busted into the room yelling out nonsense. "Okay boss the charges have been set! They go off in 5 minutes! Wait.... where is the boss?" The revolutionary said as he looked around at the auction house to see where the group of revolutionaries, only to find that the ones that remained were respectfully put to rest by Johannes and Willow with no sight of the remaining group and their leader. "Oh god! This place is going to blow!!" The revolutionary screeched repeatedly as they ran screaming out of the auction house. This wasn't good, possibly the whole museum was going to explode and that meant everything and everyone inside was a goner if the musician didn't do anything, "Sylvester! Headphone guy- Uhh, Willow! This place is going to blow!" Klinghoffer yelled out to his friends. It was time to blow this popsicle stand, 5 minutes remain until the whole museum explodes.

Sylvester Sweet emerged from the tunnel, crossing paths with a leisurely looking man that resembled Kong back in the auction house. The tall stranger gave a slight nod as Sylvester took stock of what had become of Pumpkin Sabbath. Hearing Klinghoffer’s shout of warning was just about enough to give him a migraine as he understood the mess they were in at that point. He was pleasantly surprised to see the reverent organization given to the fallen bodies, as opposed to a floor littered with corpses, it seemed some people had gone to work showing some respect. At the very sight of that, he tipped his hat, a respectful, but ephemeral goodbye. 

Further investigating the museum’s basement, he was relieved to see Klinghoffer, poker in hand, despite his worried warning. He also took note of a certain orange-haired young man, he recognized as Willow, the strange kid with the stranger premonition. Sylvester called out to them both, doing what he could to keep control of the situation, “Klinghoffer, you know this guy?” he first asked, a little surprised to hear the man’s name come out of the guitarist’s mouth. “If we gotta flee, we gotta flee. Let’s ride!”

The moment he suggested surrender, a hand shot out and grabbed ahold of the cowboy’s leg. Reflexively, he pointed his gun at the arm, to see it attached to a marine officer. “Help... me up,” the captain pleaded, blood streaming out of the corner of his mouth. “Help… me…”

“Seems you’ve been mislabeled, tin star” Sylvester said, and positioned his gun over the man’s forehead. “Of course, I can fix that for you. Surely, you don’t wanna live with the disgrace of asking a pirate for help, do you now?”

Arm quivering, he pointed his hand from Sylvester up to the roof of the basement, a feeble finger pointing upwards. “The museum… people… help me…” he managed to sputter out, before his eyes fluttered closed, and that feeble finger fell to the floor. 

Sylvester had no desire to save the revolutionaries and criminals in the museum. He had no plans to spend one more second risking death to some makeshift bomb. There was no logical reason to helping out some dying (dead?) marine, and honoring what might have been his last wish. But, the cowboy knew thinking like that was fruitless. He’d visited the museum many times before. He’d seen the paintings, and sculptures and delicately curated exhibits it housed. Thinking about it all burning to some ugly pile of ash quite literally tugged at Sylvester’s heartstrings. And, as much as he hated it, he’d learned his lesson about ignoring such inclinations. “Just rest now, tin star,” Sylvester said, softly patting the captain on the shoulder, and standing up. 

“Change of plans, boys!” Sylvester said, “Y’all are free to make a break for it, but, I’m afraid we’re gonna need to do away with those bombs. I hate to see a pretty place get all burnt up, ya hear?”

Bomb Timer: 4:11 Remaining.

While the situation turned from a ten to a twenty on a scale of ten, Johannes was finishing roughing up the main room as Kong came in to view, carrying Nisha in a comrade style, one arm of hers over his shoulder, his own arm wrapped around her side and on her waist to keep her supported as they looked at their leader. "First, collect everyone you can. Second, we leave immediately. Let's go." Johannes ordered while they all made their exit, leaving the museum quickly and without much effort. The Yulkan Smiths would be heading home to lick their wounds and preparing to track down Willow again.

Meanwhile, Willow was in dire straits, battered and bruised, beaten to a bloody mess while he looked at Klinghoffer, and then to Sylvester. Of course these two would be here, he chuckled to himself, but winced and held tighter onto his side, finding the act of laughing pretty painful right now. But when Klinghoffer said that there were bombs, Willow forced himself to his feet, through sheer willpower and ignoring the pain, he took in a deep breath and let out a guttural wail, spirits floating up around him as if to indicate how much spirit he had!

He wasn't going to die here, and he was not going to stay-nope, he was going to stay here to deal with the bombs. Sylvester gave an order, and Willow did promise almost a week ago that next time they met he would have the case of misfortune. That the joy of another would come in a dark time. He could only sigh and nod at what Sylvester said. "Point the way, Captain."

Willow declared himself a part of Sylvester's crew while he took out the staff, using it as a walking stick instead while looking at the two of them, "Let's go find the bomb and deal with it." Thankfully, there were no super high tech bombs at the moment in this day and age, right? Right? It would be a simple power keg like he had set off to begin his adventure, right? he could only hope.

Only time would tell. And by this point, another seven seconds had passed, leaving them with Four minutes and four seconds to locate and disarm the bombs! WOrk fast boys!

Klinghoffer had never dealt with a bomb threat before, he had only heard stories of people theatrically defusing a bomb with less than a second to spare, but in his mind, he knew that this was not a story and there were only two possible endings to this, with the crew either being alive or dead. They needed to establish a plan on how to find the bomb and they couldn't mince words so he spoke as fast as he could, "So let's get this straight" the musician says as he begins to walk up the stairs prompting the others to follow. We can rule out the auction house since the guy came from upstairs, second, we can focus completely on searching for the bomb since the museum is closed at night and every person would've already evacuated at this point. Lastly, we need to split up, thank god this museum is pretty small for a museum. One person needs to take care of the big exhibit at the back, another person at the front exhibit and the reception area at the front, the last person will take care of the staff storage area and the outside canal for external charges."

"I'll search around the front exhibit and the reception, I'll leave you two to decide what roles you want. if anyone finds the bomb just yell out." Klinghoffer says as he runs off into the reception area and begins to investigate every nook and cranny. As he walked in the first thing he noticed was that the room was void of any merchandise, as if the owner pulled the merch out like they knew that this might happen, the first order of business was to check the front desk and see if anything was hidden inside. After no luck finding any sort of bomb, he moved on to the rest of the room, searching shelves, chairs and everything you could find at a reception. Something was up and this smooth criminal didn't have a good feeling about it, he took one last look at the deserted museum entrance then made his way out into the first exhibit, this area was much larger and many times harder to search. The first thing that went off in his mind was that there was no security protecting the pieces in the exhibit, no lasers, alarms or anything, like somebody had specifically turned them off for that night.

Sylvester Sweet was impressed, but not surprised that both Klinghoffer and Willow offered up their services in trying to locate the bomb. What did surprise him was that Willow referred to him as “captain.” It seemed that the young man had finally agreed to the invitation he’d extended back then. But, between Willow’s injuries and the looming threat of detonation, Sylvester knew it was no time for celebration. Instead he nodded along to Klinghoffer’s plan and watched him run off towards his section of the museum. 

“Stay inside the museum,” he advised Willow, “I’ll check the storage area and the canal, but before you leave for your part of the search, take this,” Sylvester handed the young man a sheer white handkerchief, “I got nothing to help you feel better, but I’ll be damned if you can’t look the part of a Six Barrel Pirate. Good luck, partner,” he tipped his hat with that and ran towards the storage area. 

Crashing through the door, he scrambled about the small space, looking through lockers and under tables and every conceivable space to find the device that would destroy the impeccable figures of art and history. But, from just his rushed check, Sylvester couldn’t find anything that remotely resembled some sort of bomb. Checking through the last gray metal locker, he slammed the small door shut, disappointed with the results. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even spare the time to be frustrated. He sped out of the storage area and headed towards the exterior of the museum through an emergency exit. 

But, still he nothing he could see looked unnatural or explosive. However, something did manage to catch his eye all the same. Coming across the canal was a small raft, pulled along by two feisty looking yagara bulls. A bulky man was holding onto their leather reigns while a pair of workers behind them worked to tie down some crates onto the meager vessel. But, sitting on top of the cargo was a slender woman, whose bright eyes met Sylvester’s for only a moment. She looked a bit timid, like the woman was holding back from saying something.

“It’s all tied down, Ms. Dufort! We’re good to go!”

The worker waited for a response, but Sylvester finally realized from where he remembered seeing that woman. It was Aya Dufort, the organizer of Pumpkin Sabbath, making her getaway through the canals of Water 7.

Willow was finishing psyching himself up for the purpose of handling a search for bombs. Klinghoffer offered that they all split up and search for the bomb(s) across the campus of the museum. Why did it have to be a time constraint challenge like this? He could only sigh and rub the back of his head with his free hand. His other hand holding onto Shepherd while the staff was folded up into a cane-length so he could lean on something other than his injured leg.

His declaration of Sylvester as captain got him orders to stay in the museum while following the order of Klinghoffer to continue searching for a bomb. But he got a white handkerchief from Sylvester before the captain went away. Willow just looked at the piece of cloth and called out to him just as he was pulling away, "The hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Whatever--best keep it on hand for now. He tucked it away into his baggy collar and turned about, breaking into a jog, a very, very awkward jog that revolved around swinging one leg around instead of using his knee to bent and that temporary cane being used as a support for the leg while he bounded about in the musuem. His search wouldn't yield any initial results. But he would come across something.

That something was a special powder keg pile set up underneath one of the largest statues of a man riding a seaking of all things. On the kegs was a transponder snail with a set of jumper cables lined up to it and the powder keg. The wires were rather long so it seemed to be a remote trigger with a delay.

Willow could only sigh and wonder if Klinghoffer or Sylvester could drop by to help him as he started to limp toward the statue, thinking he could try and climb up to get to the snail on the very top of the statue. Cutting the wires might trigger it and send him to kingdom come, and he wasn't ready to die just yet. No sir.

Klinghoffer searched the front exhibit all over, searching inside vases and under tables yet no sign of anything that even remotely resembled a bomb. "This is useless," The musician said as he sighed, "I'll go check up on Willow, maybe he's having a bit more luck than I am..." he ran through the first exhibit and gave the whole room one last look before he moved on to his crewmate's area. He rushed into the room to discover a limping Willow O. Omens staring over a large powder keg and transponder snail, They could've been a bit more imaginative with their bomb placement, uneducated revolutionaries.... Klinghoffer thought to himself as he ran up to his crew-mate and assessed the situation. The barrel was under an odd statue of a man riding one of those sea monsters he had encountered on the way to Water 7, Klinghoffer was no bomb expert but he could tell by the transponder snail and the cables leading from it to the barrel that there was some sort of remote action occurring, if only there was a way to sever the communication between the snail and the explosive in the form of cables...

"Let's handle this as rationally as possible okay? the best thing to do in this situation is to cut the connection between the two, there is no need for red wire or blue wire if we cut all the wires." Klinghoffer says along with a sagely nod, trying to lead to the best of his ability. He was planning on taking a huge risk with this so he signaled Willow to get a large amount of distance between himself and the bomb, now that the only life he had to worry about was his own he picked up the transponder snail from the bomb and moved it as far away as possible, leaving the cord that connected the explosive and the trigger exposed and safe to work on. He grabbed his guitar, Layla, off of his back and held it firmly in his grasp, preparing to start shredding the fretboard, despite all of his uneasiness his resolve to defuse the bomb came from his higher education. If the person wanted to make sure their bomb was not defuse-able then they would've made the explosive more complicated than what was in front of him, there may be a hell of a lot of powder but the contraption was as simple as it could get, just a snail and a long cord to connect it.

"Here goes nothing...." The musician said as he took a deep breath, adjusted his fingering on the neck of Layla then aimed at the cord. As both of his hands began to move, he played a groovy jam that consisted of blues in D, finishing it off with a Double Stop Destruction. The loud sound wave resonated through the air and cut through the cords of the explosive, Klinghoffer paused for a few seconds to see if any aftereffects would occur. He let out a loud sigh and relaxed his tensed muscles and what started as a small chuckle burst out into an infectious laugh. "Hahaha..... Now that the crisis has been avoided, what is Sylvester up to? I hope he didn't run into any bombs or other problems."

Sylvester Sweet didn’t hesitate once he’d heard the woman’s name. She looked plenty aggravated that her identity had been screeched out to the world, but the cowboy couldn’t be happier. Assuming his crew had succeeded inside the museum, then all he had to do was halt the ringmaster here and they might be able to make this look like a success after all. Running from across the stone around the museum, he caught quite a bit of attention from onlookers, and earned even more when he leapt off the walkway and onto the small craft, rocking it back and forth.

“Get those bulls moving, Butch!” Aya Dufort yelled out to the man with the reins, “Deal with this party crasher here!” Her second command came accompanied with some very rude gestures at her other goons, who nodded and picked up some long trident weapons, forming a semicircle around the cowboy. The trio closed in, but Sylvester didn’t panic, and instead steadied his breathing against the approaching attack. He closed his eyes for an instant to collect his thoughts, and one of Dufort’s men saw that as an invitation to attack. 

His trident slipped right by Sylvester’s torso, missing so wide that even the pirate’s jacket was untainted by its sharp points. Another thrust followed the first for it to be ducked and the last attack came right towards Sylvester, thinking the three strikes had trapped the man. But, at astounding speed, he leapt upwards and kicked the trident back down into the raft, dodging every one of the attacks. Sylvester dashed weaved his way between the three and jumped up towards their boss, pointing Trust down at the lady, who yelped in fear. 

“Might wanna halt this wagon ride,” Sylvester said with a grin, pulling back the hammer of his revolver. “I’m a little insulted this was all the men you brought to defend yourself Ms. Dufort. Now say goodbye to your treasure trove.”

The woman was practically in tears at the threat, shaking wildly about and saying, “Wait! Wait! Wait! Please, take whatever you want! I’m not her! Just a decoy please! We didn’t even get any of the good stuff! Please, don’t hurt me!”

Sylvester furrowed his brow, thinking the claim just another trick. He kept the weapon trained on the woman, but looked more closely at the pile of goods on the craft. Hardly any of it was real, this woman, whether she was Dufort or not, clearly didn’t have much of anything important with her at all.

Haki & Skills:

Willow was happy to have Klinghoffer arrive on the scene. While Willow was busy trying to disarm the snail, or find a way to keep it from waking up to transmit the call and activate the bomb, Klinghoffer saw fit to destroy the wires outright! Now, normally that would be a good idea, if it weren't such a bad idea. You never cut the wires without knowing what the hell you are doin-welp he's going to do it anyways.

"What? Wait--Klinghoffer!" Willow said with a pained voice only for the musician to do his thing regardless with enough time for Willow to get out of the way. He expected a boom, he expected to be dead. But when the bomb didn't go off, Willow was left standing there, two arms cast over his head in the hopes to try and keep himself from being blown up somehow. But of course, the bomb was perfectly fine.

Instantly, Willow took his weapon and folded it into its storage from and threw it at Klinghoffer's noggin. If it hit it would bounce off and leave a bruise but no blood or severe damage would happen. It was thrown with the purpose of getting his attention. "You bubbling buffoon! You could have blown us up! What were you thinking?!" It was very out of character for Willow, who's teeth were now jagged and shark like with his mouth wider than it should have been, eyes pointed out of his skull like cones as he glared at Klinghoffer, animated like a cartoon in this moment before he returned to normal.

Willow would limp away to go get his weapon wherever it landed, his right hand clutching onto his left ribs, right eye winced shut as the pain of his encounters so far were catching up to him. Klinghoffer suggested that they go find their captain, and Willow was inclined to agree, were he not sitting down on the floor now, head lowered down while he was drifting off to unconsciousness, mumbling a response to Klinghoffer.

"Yeah--good plan--just give me a moment." He needed someone to grab him and help him along the way, meanwhile the voice from his headphones was shouting and trying to keep Willow awake and coherent. Willow was stubborn and could resist a lot of pain, but even he had his limits. If only there were a way to resist this pain easier. Though, that yelling voice from his headphones was enough to keep him from going away, though it would only be heard by Willow, Klinghoffer would only hear the mumbling Willow.