20+ early chapters on Pátreon.com/Herd99
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The port smelled like burnt wires and fried shellfish.
Smoke curled from the ruins of Transponder Snail shops. Their tiny, shell-clad bodies lay scattered among splinters of broken booths and charred signs. Marines shouted orders over the din, but the air was thick with static—actual, physical static, humming and warping like reality itself was being jammed.
Kain stood at the edge of it all, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck. He yawned. Long and slow.
"Feels like a 'not my problem' situation," he muttered.
Unfortunately, it very much was.
He could see Smoker already in the center of it, turning into thick white clouds of smoke and tearing through enemy lines. His jitte cracked as it swung down onto a pirate's head, sending the poor guy flying into a crate. The rest of the Radio Raiders—pirates wearing goggles, tool belts, and more swagger than skill—scrambled around the docks like a poorly rehearsed stage crew.
And then there was him.
Atop a ruined shipping container stood Static.
Captain of the Radio Raiders. Shirtless. Grinning. Unstable.
He had the look of a man who had either seen the future or licked one too many batteries.
"People of Loguetown!" Static called out, voice warping through bursts of electromagnetic distortion. "Your reliance on outdated, slimy technology is over! The era of Transponder Snails is finished! I bring—clarity! I bring frequencies! I bring—"
"—a migraine," Kain muttered, already regretting not pretending to be sick that morning. And also letting Static take to the rooftops.
He felt the low thrum of his Haki Infusion activate in his fists, the black aura humming faintly around his knuckles.
"Alright, system," he whispered. "Don't fail me now."
Kain stepped out onto the open street. One step. Two.
Static saw him and laughed.
"Uncultured Marine! Even with Haki, you can't stop me—I'm untouchable!" His body flickered again, warping into waves of light and invisible signal.
Kain paused halfway across the road, squinting.
"says the guy who thinks snail phones are evil."
Static flared with pride. "They are! A symbol of backward thinking! I am the new signal!"
Kain tilted his head. "You ever just… not talk?"
Static grinned wide. "Try and shut me up!"
And with a loud buzz, Static vanished again, his form breaking into pulsing waves and charging straight for Kain.
For a brief moment, Kain didn't move.
Then, just as Static reached him, Kain sidestepped with all the energy of someone dodging a slow-moving cat.
Static reformed mid-swing, eyes wide with confusion as Kain's Haki-coated fist caught him clean across the jaw.
The punch echoed through the port.
Static flew backward and crashed through a pile of shipping crates.
Kain cracked his knuckles.
"Monologues are only cool if you win."
Static groaned, rolling out of the busted crate wreckage. Sparks danced off his skin, flickering out with each movement. His confident smirk from earlier? Gone. Replaced by the twitchy panic of a man who just got punched by someone who wasn't supposed to be able to punch him.
"You—" Static hissed, pushing himself up. "How did you…sense me?"
Kain walked forward, hands back in his pockets, like he wasn't in the middle of a live combat zone.
"I told you," he said, voice calm. "I've got Haki."
Static blinked. "You mean there's other types besides...the black armor stuff?! That's cheating!"
"3 to be exact. More importantly, Pirate calls Marine a cheater," Kain muttered, shaking his head. "That's rich."
From across the docks, another explosion burst into the air. Smoker was handling the rest of the Radio Raiders like he was taking out the trash. A trail of smoke snaked through the battlefield, wrapping up pirates mid-run, slamming them into walls, and sweeping the rest into a tight cluster near a broken crane. Smoker's jitte moved with ruthless efficiency—he wasn't here to impress anyone. Just clean up.
Kain stayed focused on Static, who was charging up again—hands buzzing, arms jittering like a signal stuck on repeat.
"I'm not done!" Static screamed. "I'll override your little trick—I'll scramble your brain!"
He surged forward, body warping into a pulsing, high-frequency blur. The air around him distorted like a heat wave. Radios nearby fizzled. A lamp post short-circuited. The chaos was rising again.
Kain's response?
He sighed.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, activated the Lazy Dragon's Roar—his signature technique. A burst of force, subtle and low to the ground, traveled outward like a ripple. Static tried to phase through it, but it caught him mid-transition.
The blast wasn't flashy, but it had weight. It struck Static center mass, driving him back like a wave pushing a paper boat.
This time, Static didn't bounce. He collapsed into a crouch, sparks crawling off his shoulders.
"Still intangible?" Kain asked, stepping closer. "Or just annoying?"
"You… you don't get it," Static growled. "I'm not just a man. I'm a message. A symbol. The voice of a new age!"
"Cool," Kain said flatly. "I'm the guy who punches symbols."
He didn't wait for another speech. Just walked right up and hit Static again. One clean, Haki-infused punch. No drama. No yelling. Just a quiet, decisive thud.
Static dropped. Out cold. His body crackled once more, then powered down like a dying radio.
The silence after the fight was jarring. Like someone finally turned off the static in the room.
Kain stood over Static's motionless body, brushing dust from his sleeve. His Haki faded, the black sheen flickering out with a soft pulse.
He looked around. Pirates groaning on the ground. Civilians peeking from alleyways. A few stunned Marines standing with mouths open. And in the center of it all, Kain—hands back in his pockets, eyes already scanning for an exit.
Smoker arrived a few seconds later, dragging two pirates by their collars.
"Took you long enough," he said, voice gruff but amused.
Kain scratched his cheek. "Sorry. He talked a lot."
"You didn't look like you were in a rush."
"I was," Kain said. "In a rush to go home."
Smoker smirked, glancing down at Static. "You hit him pretty hard."
"Had to. His personality was louder than his powers."
As the Marines began rounding up the Radio Raiders, a small cheer rose from the edge of the port. Townspeople slowly emerged, clapping, shouting thanks. Someone waved a makeshift sign that just said, "THANK YOU LIEUTENANT KAIN" in bold, uneven paint.
Kain blinked at it. Then looked away like it might bite him.
Smoker clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Looks like you've got fans now."
"Great," Kain muttered. "That's the second worst thing that's happened to me today."
"What's the first?"
"I ran out of coffee this morning."