For a rickshaw, snaking through the island city, it was rather quiet. The metal yawned and stretched as the cart took turns, or weight shifted about over this bump or that one, the light thump of bass from a passing live music bar, a yawn, the silent sound of a drivers breath heaving out, the turning of a page in a newspaper read left to right, it was all an orchestra.

And there he sat, legs spread wide with more than enough room to shift if so desired, holding a folded bounty register in a single hand. Even from his seated position it was obvious that he was of above average height, average or a bit more, and muscular, so that he actually appeared a bit statuesque. His caramel brown toned skin, highlighted by the orange light of an hour long dead sun, stretched smooth and fine over a subtle set of muscles. His brown hair, in twisted and rippling dreadlocks, arranged expertly and attractively about his head, was well cared for.

He glanced up from his readings, and his face is visible. Illuminate, amber orange eyes, a forgettable nose, and a strong jaw made up for an unmistakably intimidating and fearsome face. His voice, as he gently offered a 'wait for me here' to his driver, was deep and soothing, tainted with a harmony to its tone heard only in those who know the answer to their demands. After careful examination, it's obvious that he is right-handed, and perhaps even right-dominant. He moved from the rickshaw, and up onto the deck of the ship, with an easy grace. Light footsteps and quick reaction to the moving sway of the sea might leave the more imaginative to think that, in another place and another time, he might have made for a fine fisherman.

"Hey! What are you doing up here?! Get the fuck off our ship before we make you get off, you overgrown ape!"

His intensity increased ten-fold and the look in his eyes slept that heightening. Some of the pirates nearest to him could feel the shift in intention and stumbled backward against beter judgement. Some reached for weapons with a wobbly hand and shaky conviction, unsure if they actually wanted to go there with such an intimidating guy. But they had to. They were pirates, right? This was their duty to their captain and their cause.

"You have been deemed expendable and, therefore, you must... perish."

Shots fired from multiple directions!

A stream of bullets went flying in all all directions out in to the city. What disregard for life and safety they showed. Open firing port side as though their bullets had names attached to them, and though they didn't yet know or ask the name of the very one they were shooting at, somehow the deadly little BBs would figure it out and try their damnedest to hit him and only him. This was why pirates were the scum of the earth. So wasteful, so unawares that their very presence disturbed the grand design of how the world was supposed to work. He was grateful at least that he didn't have to deal with their likes too often. Cipher Pol was unconcerned about the general status of the amount of pirates on the seas these days. And while they definitely did their parts to rid the world of their kind whenever available, such as a time like this, they were more concerned with those who would outright challenge the World Government and make a show of that disrespect.

The Revolutionaries of the world were the real enemy. People would rebel against a system until the end of days, this much was unavoidable. You build for walls and people will struggle within them, but the ones to watch out for are those who seek not to struggle but to dismantle. Cry, moan, scratch at the walls all you want, but do not strike them. If you struck them, people like Raja the Devilheart appeared on your ship and eliminated you. He was doubtful this band of idiots were actually revolutionaries, but it seemed that their captain had something of a ruinous rumor surrounding him and his involvement with said parties and thus he was next in line.

Raja had moved, of course, during those few moments of introspection. It happened fairly often when dealing with opponents like these. It was all rather monotonous and so he liked to occupy his mind with more interesting topics. His hands, though, his hands did the devil's work without being told. The nearest one he appeared behind was knocked aside and off the boat with ease, followed by back-cracking kick to the man a foot in front of him, and a side kick to the man on his right. They were all still firing and firing into a puff of smoke with hopes of only hitting a wandering child or two on the far side of the pier. Idiots.

His fists lead the way around him as he spun, crashing his knuckles into the face of a shocked grunt that had just come up from down under. The shots had alerted the whole crew and one by one they would come up to meet their demise. Still, he was short for time. Asher had given him strict orders and time was of the essence. He could not wait for them to summon their courage and approach the deck to thwart any intruder without their captain or first mate in attendance of them. He instead picked up the first man who came up the stairs, snapped his neck and threw him down the pathway, knocking down a few more. The ship was unusually small for a pirate crew of this size, testament to their weakness and disagreement with the field of endeavor they had chosen. Sigh. Their spirits would thank him for doing away with it as well.

Techniques Used:

He stepped down the steps watching as three of the men sat in a doggy pile of bodies, shifting and squirming to get free before it was too late. It was too late, Raja stepped onto the back of one man and smashed his other boot onto another's face until there were no signs of movement left. Reaching down, eyeing back of the head of the man he was standing on, he pulled his neck up and backward in an angle it was not meant to bend in. After a few seconds of soundless screaming, a snap relieved the man of the pressure and put him into a long, long sleep. Raja peered up as three men stood there in horror, afraid and cowering at the sight of him.

Poor things. Sadly, this time, the horrors running through their heads were 100% true. They would die today, and they should pray to their god to save them. He wouldn't. But they should anyway. Praying was only right and natural at one's time of death. To thwart this tradition was to send the wrong message to the afterlife. If there was some higher being, then you would certainly offend him and why would you want to do that?

Raja stood and gave the men a few seconds of mumbling and tears, enough to say a few prayers he thought. He was not the devil that people thought he was. He was not wasteful, he was not inefficient. 3... 2.... 1.... His hand shot out and grabbed the first one by the face squeezing his skull and sling it to the side and into a wall with a shark crack. He grabbed the next two by the throats and lifted them as high as he could lift his own head. They clutched at the death grip on their throats until he sent him pounding into the back wall, over and over and over. After a while their eyes has gazed over but he kept pounding. The purpose was not to kill these men, that would happen either way. He had another goal in mind.

CRACK.

Ahh, the first breaches in the ships hull. Perfect, he threw the men aside, then turned back for the stairs. After reaching the second step he swung his leg back around at a beam of sharpened air tunneled across the room, hitting the walls and, in particular, the fractured part of them. The wood splinterered and burst outward, water beginning to slow in from the sea. The ship was dead now. It would sink and the Wily Heart Pirates would be done for good. Now... on to their captain and first mate.

Technique Used: