Ten years later...
Alone and in chains, a young woman sat in a dark room on an airship named The Sky-Bender. She had lost all hope completely when a grubby band of pirates had swung aboard and took control of her father’s ship, locking her in an old, dust covered storage cabin with only a loaf of stale, moldy bread to eat. I haven’t seen food like this in years, she thought to herself, but after days of no food, I’m almost tempted to eat it. A noise from up above grabbed her attention, fueling her anxiety and hopes of a rescuer in shining armor that would come free her from her prison. Getting up, she slams her body against the door and screams out, hoping to alert whoever it might be of her dreadful whereabouts.
On the top deck, a battle raged. Swords clanged against each other, bullets fired, and fists flew in every direction. Only moments ago, exactly three days after the girl's captors had conquered The Sky-Bender, another airship, bestowing a winged skull and crossbones, soared out of the clouds and more men leaped aboard. Like liquid, these new pirates were extremely flexible with their fighting skills, so they easily overpowered the first batch, who fought with menacing weapons but were not nearly as adept. One pirate in particular fought fearlessly against ten men by himself. He was tall with long, silver hair, an oddly attractive unshaven chin, toned muscles, and was obviously the most talented, battle-ready man on the deck. The iris of his one good eye ─ the other eye covered with an old, black eye-patch ─ was an abnormal yellow, almost golden tint, lit up with the thrill of a challenge. The strangest thing about this man, however, was not his eye, his hair, or even his wicked fighting skills. No, the thing about this man that made his enemies shudder, was his claw. Five sharp, metal blades replaced the fingers of his missing right hand. With it, he could slash through opponents' flesh, brake bones, and much worse ─ if he so chose to. Of course, he wasn't here to kill, he had a different mission, so he used the sword in his left hand, equally dangerous but slightly less lethal, to fend off the enemy pirates.
Once the second band of pirates had almost completely annihilated the first, a small group, led by the clawed man who appeared to be in charge, broke away from the battle, to charge through doorways and corridors, up and down staircases, and and to take out any other pirates who tried to stop them. A right here, a left there, the man lead them down a twisted, complicated path that only weeks of memorization could have pulled off. As they raced down a long hallway, the silver-haired man heard a rhythmic pounding sound along with a faint human cry emanating from behind a closed door, which peeked his curiosity.
Wanting to stop and investigate, he said to an older man running beside him, “Firious, I want you to take the men the rest of the way. You know the path as well as I do. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up. There’s something I need to check first.”