The kick of Lucky’s heel stirred his mount forward. He could see his destination in the distance, the speck of brown settling atop a sea of blue. Only a couple hundred yards away.

Bang!

With a violent neigh, the mare reared back, knocking the sailor from its back. Lucky rolled across the road, the skin of his hands shredding against the dusty debris of the path as he fought to slow his spinning fall. The man’s portly body slid into a puddle at the edge of the road. He lifted his head from the murky waters, the dazed pupils of his eyes bouncing about before narrowing in on the source of the explosion. 

A snicker grew on the gunman’s face. The pirate slinked forward, his gait wavering through dramatic strides. He lowered the smoking barrel to his belt, replacing his grip around the basket hilt of a delicately intricate sabre. The twang of metal broke through the rampaging thunder as the sword pulled free from its scabbard. 

A growl formed on Lucky’s lips. He inched his body across the mud soaked floor, his fingers itching to find his blade. The darkness of shadow overtook the portly sailor. Miniature lumps bubbled beneath his skin as a shiver coursed down his spine. His palms sweetened with sweat as he pushed himself back in wait for the inevitable blow. 

Bang!

The second explosion coursed through Lucky’s ears, beating the small drums within with a deafening pop. A wave of crimson crashed over the sailor’s face as the pirate’s knees buckled below him. 

The villain staggered forward, determined to finish his task. His feet denied the call, the stringy muscles of flesh falling limp. With a roar of anguish, the pirate crashed to the floor, revealing the tiny twig of a man behind him. 

“Looks like ya could use a bit o’ help, mate,” the tiny sailor laughed, lowering his smoldering weapon to his belt and offering his friend his hand. “Sorry bout the splatter.”

“Just part of the show, Eight Toes” Lucky grinned, gripping the sailor’s hand firmly and hoisting himself to his feet. 

“I don’t think ye can call me that anymore, mate.”

Lucky’s brow arched. “You lose another one?”

“Fraid so,” Eight Toes chuckled, pointing to two blood-stained holes in the man’s left boot.

“How the hell did you manage to get shot twice?”

“Ye see, the first was more of a stabbin. I admit, that one was mostly my fault. But the second…”

The pop and whizz of a stray bullet interrupted the sailor’s explanation, forcing the pair to dive behind the cover of an abandoned cart. 

“We’ll discuss it later,” Lucky whispered through gritted teeth. He pulled his rapier free, resting the tip of the blade against the shattered wood of the cart. “We gotta get to the ship. Cap’n’s orders.”

“Aye? How do you suppose we do that?”

Lucky popped his head to the side of the splintered boards. His eyes scanned the landscape before him, searching for an answer. A lone crate two yards from safety caught his attention. Like a broken egg, the box had cracked open, spilling the black orbs of its contents onto the ground. “Have you seen the others around?” the sailor asked, returning his attention to his mate. 

“Aye. Boomin’ Bill and Mad Dog are just ‘round the corner. They’re hiding out in the inn, waiting for things to die down. What ya plannin?”

Lucky’s lips swirled into a snickering grin as he lifted his finger to the crate. “Ye, like fireworks, mate?”