(14/02/24 - 14:45) (Sunday February 14, 1524)
Uma stepped off the wooden porch of the clinic. The seams of his canvas shirt pulled tightly across his chest and shoulders. The fabric of his trousers restricted the full range of motion in his legs. His old garments are now obsolete.
He navigated the local market stalls in Grove Thirteen. He approached a merchant selling salvaged clothing. He utilized a small portion of his remaining seven thousand Berries. He purchased a loose-fitting, dark grey tunic made of heavy linen, a pair of durable black cargo trousers, and a set of thick leather boots. He changed behind a stack of crates, enjoying the immediate return of his unrestricted mobility. The thick soles of the boots provided a solid, grounded platform for his strikes.
(14/02/24 - 15:15)
He crossed the boundaries of the lower groves, heading east toward Grove Twenty-Two. The density of the Yarukiman Mangroves shifted, revealing large patches of open, muddy terrain.
He located the abandoned shipyard on the eastern edge of the grove. He scaled a thick, petrified root bordering the perimeter to secure a high vantage point. He crouched in the shadow of the canopy and observed the layout.
The intelligence broker provided accurate information. A massive, grounded galleon sat directly in the center of a dry dock. The surrounding yard was a labyrinth of rusted iron cranes, rotting ship hulls, and massive stacks of decaying timber. The strict rotation of eight guards applied exclusively to the night shift. In the mid-afternoon sun, the Knuckle Gang operated with severe laxity. Roughly fifteen thugs lounged around the perimeter, drinking cheap rum and playing cards on wooden crates.
Uma formulated his tactical approach. He possessed a strict deadline. He required a clean extraction before six in the evening to attend his shift at Shakky's bar. A frontal assault against fifteen armed men in an open yard invited unnecessary risk. He would utilize the labyrinth of debris to mask his approach. He planned to isolate and eliminate the outermost stragglers silently, breaching the blind spot at the rear of the galleon. Once inside, he would locate the captain's quarters, execute Rust-Knuckle Gator in an enclosed space where the boss's size offered no advantage, and exit through the lower hull before the crew discovered the corpse.
(14/02/24 - 16:00)
The afternoon sun began its slow descent. Uma dropped silently from the mangrove root. He landed softly on the muddy earth outside the shipyard's perimeter.
He slipped through a wide gap in the rusted iron fencing. He moved with a low, predatory crouch, using a massive pile of decaying timber to mask his silhouette. He listened to the ambient sounds of the yard.
Heavy footsteps approached his position. A single pirate separated from the main group to relieve himself against the back of the timber stack. The man bore the spiked iron knuckle tattoo on his forehead. He leaned against the wood with a bored sigh.
Uma stepped out from the shadows directly behind the man. He clamped his left hand over the pirate's mouth, stifling any potential scream. He wrapped his right arm around the pirate's chin and wrenched his hands in opposite directions.
The cervical vertebrae snapped with a dull, wet crunch.
The pirate went completely limp. Uma lowered the heavy corpse to the ground. He dragged the body deep into the narrow gap between the timber logs, concealing it entirely from the main yard.
He stepped away from the wood. He crossed the open dirt in three rapid, silent strides and pressed his back against the weathered, wooden hull of the grounded galleon. He grabbed the edge of an open gun port and hoisted himself inside the dark, humid lower deck.
(14/02/24 - 16:05) (Sunday February 14, 1524)
The lower deck of the galleon smelled of rotting wood, stale rum, and sea salt. Uma landed softly on the damp floorboards. He allowed his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light filtering through the gun ports.
He moved silently down the narrow corridor. A pirate sat on a wooden crate, sharpening a rusted dagger with a whetstone. Uma stepped up behind him. He clamped his hands around the man's head and twisted violently. The pirate slumped forward onto the floor.
Uma advanced toward the next intersection. A second guard rounded the corner, carrying a lantern. Uma lunged forward, aiming to crush the man's windpipe. He was a reincarnated civilian attempting an infiltration based entirely on instinct. He misjudged the distance in the dark. His hand slipped against the pirate's sweaty neck.
"We have a rat in the hold!" the pirate screamed at the top of his lungs.
Uma drove his fist directly into the man's throat, crushing the larynx and cutting the shout short. The pirate dropped the lantern. The glass shattered against the floorboards.
The single shout ruined the stealth approach entirely. Heavy footsteps pounded against the wooden ceiling above him. Shouts echoed from the main deck. Chaos erupted throughout the grounded galleon.
Uma ducked into an adjacent crew cabin to clear the main hallway. He scanned the cluttered room for an advantage. He opened a heavy wooden footlocker at the base of a bunk. He found a loaded flintlock pistol resting on top of a folded shirt. He grabbed the heavy iron weapon and shoved it securely into the waistband of his cargo trousers.
He stepped back out into the corridor.
A group of men blocked his path. The scarred man with the iron pipe stood at the front. Four armed thugs flanked him. The slender man with the wire-rimmed glasses stood a few paces behind them.
The man with the glasses locked eyes with Uma. He processed the dead bodies on the floor and the sheer physical mass of the intruder. He offered a short, calculated nod to the scarred man. He turned on his heel and retreated rapidly up the stairs, heading deeper into the ship.
"Kill him," the scarred man ordered, gripping his iron pipe with both hands.
The scarred man charged forward, swinging the heavy pipe in a horizontal arc aimed directly at Uma's temple.
Uma raised his left forearm to guard his head. The iron pipe slammed into his flesh. The impact produced a loud crack. The metal pipe bent slightly around his arm. His radius bone absorbed the kinetic energy completely, completely unbothered by the strike.
Uma dropped his arm. He possessed absolutely no martial arts training. He knew nothing of footwork, leverage, or refined striking techniques. He fought exactly like a desperate street brawler, relying entirely on his massive physical strength and ruthlessness.
But that worked.
He grabbed the scarred man by the throat. He pulled the pirate forward and delivered a devastating, looping right hook. His knuckles caved in the side of the man's face. The pirate's jaw shattered into multiple pieces. The man dropped to the floorboards like a stone.
The remaining four thugs rushed him in the narrow space.
The first pirate swung a cutlass. Uma stepped inside the swing, ignoring the blade completely. He drove his heavy leather boot directly into the pirate's knee. The joint inverted with a wet pop. The man screamed and collapsed.
Uma grabbed the second pirate by the front of his shirt. He pulled the thug downward and smashed his forehead directly into the bridge of the man's nose. The cartilage crushed flat. The thug went completely limp in his grip.
The third pirate thrust a spear toward his chest. Uma slapped the wooden shaft aside with his bare hand. He closed the distance in a single stride and drove a brutal uppercut into the man's stomach. The pirate vomited a mixture of bile and rum, folding in half before hitting the ground.
The fourth pirate dropped his weapon. The man turned around and sprinted down the corridor. Uma lunged forward, covering the distance in two massive steps. He grabbed the back of the fleeing pirate's head and slammed his face repeatedly into the solid oak wall until the man stopped twitching.
Five bodies littered the narrow hallway. Blood pooled on the damp wood. Uma stood in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. He suffered zero injuries. The fodder of the lawless zone simply lacked the physical capacity to bypass his dense muscle tissue.
He stepped over the groaning thugs. He left them bleeding on the floorboards. He walked directly toward the main staircase leading to the captain's quarters.