The Thirteenth

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

Vincent sat quietly on the floor of the small dinghy, wringing seawater from his jet-black locks. He felt a deep chill against his flesh, his soggy clothing now failing to insulate against the chilly night air. His companions chatted idly, shoulder to shoulder at the controls. The tub moved slowly, the engine having been reduced a great deal to keep the group from being detected. Though the gunslinger knew that many of the empire's ships likely had RADAR and GPS technology, he hoped that he had crippled the Vulture's ship enough to prevent them from scrambling the troops. He no contingency plan whatsoever if the group were cornered; he could only put his faith in the brothers Sola and keep his eyes on the horizon.

“So, Costa del Sol.” Ral muttered from somewhere near the front of the ship. The trio had agreed to keep any lighting to a minimum to prevent detection. Aside from a dim light at the head of the ship to prevent colliding with drifting debris, they followed the path set by the ship's compass. “You think you'll find some information there?”

The ex-Turk thought for a moment. “I'm not entirely convinced, but it's the only idea I have.”

“Fair enough,” the boy responded.

The group had been drifting for around an hour, their snail-like pace keeping them from reaching shore as fast as they would have liked. Though none of them could tell if they were even headed in the right direction, Tal assured them that their destination was simply due North. Without any better alternative to offer, Vincent resigned himself to sitting and waiting. Although the trip back to shore was much longer than the trip to the Imperial frigate, he was not complaining. The silence of the night soothed the warrior's mind, his pulse falling to a rhythmic, lazy pace. He closed his eyes, reveling in the long calm.

A sudden, almost ghostly tune sneaked through the silence, at first barely audible. For a moment, the ex-Turk could barely differentiate it from the low hum of the engine. Curious, he opened his eyes and waited, listening intently for the sound to return. Minutes later the sound returned, drifting past the trio from somewhere in the distance.

“You guys hearing this too?” Tal inquired, flipping the throttle on the ship's dash. The engine slowed to a crawl before dying completely.

His companions did not reply, each awaiting the return of the call. A long moment passed before their ears were again met with the ghostly wail, this time slightly louder. Vincent furrowed his brow, pondering what could create such a sound. It was somehow familiar to him, as if he had heard this same tone somewhere before.

“Yeah, I can hear it.” Ral replied, taking a seat beside Vincent. He leaned over the side of the ship, glancing around as if he expected to see the source of the noise floating beside the ship.

Again, the call came. This time it seemed to be getting closer, though it still seemed to be quite far away. Vincent recognized the tone as more of a howl than a moan, sounding somewhat lupine if he had to guess. “Can you steer us in that direction?” The gunslinger inquired, squinting through the darkness in the general direction of the noise.

“Uh, I guess,” Tal responded. “But didn't you want to head to Costa del Sol?”

Vincent nodded toward the direction of Tal's voice. “Yes. But that howl seems...familiar, somehow.”

“You're the boss.” Tal replied, flipping the throttle once more. The engine awoke, the elder Sola directing its path toward the mysterious noise.

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The trio kept quiet as their craft churned through the water, the silence punctuated every so often by the same sorrowful tone. They had yet to catch sight of the source of the howling, though Vincent was convinced they were headed in the right direction. He had nothing to base this conclusion on, save for the feeling in his gut. It was almost as if something was calling to him, tugging him toward the source.

The calling never seemed to be exactly the same; it sometimes rang out loudly and at other times could barely be heard over the otherwise silent night. When the Prime could hear the howling, it seemed to call out randomly. It could at times occur several times in close succession or else several minutes apart. Moreover, Vincent noticed a distinct change in tone as they chugged along, the noise seeming to become more frantic and 'pained' as it got louder. Finally, along the horizon the ex-Turk's eyes met the vague shape of a ship. This was the vessel that undoubtedly carried the source of the call.

“That looks like our mark.” Tal muttered, grabbing a small flashlight from the navigation console. He flicked it on and pointed it at the others one at a time. “So, what're we doing then?”

“Get closer. I'm getting aboard,” the cloaked Prime asserted, staring intently at the silhouette.

The helmsman nodded silently, correcting their angle and beginning the approach.

As they neared, Vincent's keen eyes began to get an impression of the ship's exterior thanks to the previously hidden moonlight that now peered through the dark clouds. The craft in question was a small, classic single-sailed, wooden caravel-style ship straight from a swashbuckling storybook. It was several times smaller than the re-purposed cargo/warship hybrid they had recently escaped, looking to only be large enough to bunk a dozen or so comfortably while still providing room for cargo and other task-specific rooms. The sails were a stained tea color and the ship's hull seem to be composed entirely of rotting driftwood. With the seas and winds stifled by an eery calm, the ship was at the mercy of the currents and moved at a lazy pace, easily reachable by the trio's motorized model. Vincent began to wonder from where this craft could have come, its dilapidated condition surely indicative of past tragedies.

The smaller craft now neared the ragged hull of the caravel, coming up just feet away, parallel to the larger ship's path. “You just gonna hop up there and say hello to whatever's making that noise?” Ral asked, glancing at his brother for support. “It seems...hurt, almost.”

Vincent nodded, tightening the buckles on his mantle. “More or less.” His mind momentarily flashed back to his skirmishes aboard the Imperial ship and to his most recently acquired skill. He was prepared to follow a similar plan this time as well, being unsure what was aboard the caravel.

“Okay. Well, we'll keep pace with this thing then, I guess.” Tal shrugged. “Good luck.”

Presently, another howl came from the aft end of the ship. This, Vincent thought, was something he had definitely heard before. One could reason that a beast's howl was a familiar noise to anyone who had so much has turned on a television, but this was quite different than a typical wolf's howl or a lion's roar. The tone seemed much more emotive than a simple beast, truly seeming like more of a call than a howl. There was almost a language to it; though the ex-Turk did not profess to be fluent in any animal language, he did not need to be in this moment. Moreover, Vincent could not decide whether the creature performing the call was canine or feline. Though definitely a canid call, he could not pin down which creature was pleading with the darkness. A moment later the howl punctured the night once more, this time cut short by a loud CLANG of metal-on-metal.

“WILL YOU SHUT IT, DOG?!” A raspy voice screamed, followed by a rapid succession of more percussion.

Though he had no reason to show any emotion toward this unknown beast, Vincent immediately felt rage brewing in his veins. Perhaps it was his naturally protective nature or his loathing of loud-mouthed barbarians, either way both anger and curiosity spurred him forward. Turning his back to his companions, Vincent leapt from the speeder toward the hull of the caravel, his strong legs propelling him through the silent air. As he neared the wooden railing of the ship he closed his eyes, mentally triggering his invisibility. The cloaked Prime's hands found the railing, quickly tugging him over the barrier. He opened his eyes quickly, surveying the scene before him.

Vincent had found himself on the deck of what could most accurately be described as, there was no other word for it, a pirate ship. The deck seemed almost cartoonishly furnished, with several empty wooden chests piled around the mast and rotting crates (home to at least a handful of rats, Vincent noticed) placed around the area to serve as impromptu tables, chairs, etc. A few of said tables were adorn with empty alcohol bottles and crusty pewter plates. To top it all off, the Prime took note of a crow's nest atop the sail, flying the Jolly Roger. Before Vincent could ponder any further on what he had just jumped into, he heard the sound of a scuffle to his right. At the far end of the ship, a half dozen or so men dressed only in ragged clothing and several days' filth were gathered around something.

“Can't we just kill this fucking thing?” On of them inquired, exasperation clearly noticeable in his speech. The source of the voice, a tall man with long, straggly locks turned to face his neighbor, a pudgy-looking bald man.

“No!” Baldy cried, striking the first man over the head. “This beast –whatever it is- will fetch us a fortune!”

“Ouch, dammit!” Beanpole snapped. “Fine, but can we shut it up? Riches or not, I'm going to do SOMETHING to it if the yelping don't stop soon!”

“Yer not touching the beast, that's fer damn sure.” A third man replied calmly. “Karl's not paying us a dime for a wounded critter. His 'Abyss' won't be very entertaining with a crippled attack-dog.”

Vincent furrowed his brow. There it was again, mention of this 'Dante's Abyss'. Was this a ploy by the Empire to round up undesirables, or something worse? The Prime had only managed to figure out from the Sola brothers that this 'Abyss' was located in a different universe than the one he had found himself in recently. The fact that someone knew how to traverse through the multiverse was enough motivation to point Vincent's attention in the direction of Dante's Abyss. The prime quietly strode stealthily toward the group, watching his step for loose boards.

“Can't we muzzle the thing, then?” A fourth pirate asked, leaning over the railing. “I'm sick to death of the wailing.”

“Sure, if YOU want to put your hand near that thing's mouth,” his companion replied, rapping a crowbar on the container. “Be my guest, mate.”

The imprisoned beast snarled in response before making another short, loud howl. Vincent narrowed his eyes as he approached, now nearly 10 feet from what looked to be a caged exotic beast of some kind. It looked to be entirely covered in red fur, massive compared to most beasts and adorn with a black mane. Vincent stopped in his tracks, his heart now racing.

“Well fine. I'm getting a drink then. Can't annoy me if I'm blacked out..heh heh.” The pirate strode away from the group toward the cabin, leaving a gap in the rank. The beast contained within turned to peer through the gap, a single ocher-colored eye gazing longingly at the apparently empty deck. As it turned once more in the cage, Vincent caught sight of a large, black brand on his left scapula: 'XIII'.

In an instant, the ex-Turk was airborne, somersaulting over the group. Equal parts excitement and anxiety buzzed through him, washing all doubt and confusion from his mind. As he tumbled through the air, the convoluted puzzle had fallen into place. Why was the call so familiar to him? What had drawn him toward this ship like a moth to a flame? Why had he felt rage burn through him at the thought of the creature coming to harm?

“BLIZZARA!” The Prime roared, slamming his fast down on the top of the cage. His invisibility faded as a wave of frost exploded from the point of contact, a ring of icy wind billowing outward and quickly freezing solid the group surrounding the cage. The Prime glanced quickly at the circle of icy statues that now encircled the cage before tipping his weight onto the wrist and spin-kicking the glacial sentry. The group fell like dominoes, clunking heavily on the wooden deck. Having now made some space, the ex-Turk hopped down from the cage and glanced inside.

The beast contained within looked at him wearily through his one good eye, the other scarred from some past conflict. The quadrupedal canid stood around three feet at his shoulder and nearly 7 from nose to hind quarters, covered in dark red fur. The eternal flame at the end of his tail flickered dimly from within the cage, the light accenting the golden bangles around his ankles. His lips were twisted into a smirk, despite the ice spell that had engulfed the cage; his fur crusted with frozen water vapor, icicles now tangled up among the beads and feathers in his black mane. “It sure took you long enough, old friend.”

A wide smile crossed Vincent's pale face. “It's good to see you, Nanaki.”

The beast known as both Nanaki and Red XIII got to his feet, flexing it's muscular form. “I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive.”

Vincent chuckled silently in response, glancing at the frosty victims at his feet. “Sorry about the ice.”

“We are even, considering the circumstances.” Nanaki replied, grinning. The beast flexed his hind legs, preparing to pounce. “You may want to back up.”

Vincent hopped over his frozen foes just as Nanaki sprang, diving through the roof of the cage in a high arch, sending chunks of brittle, frozen metal raining over the deck. The duo nodded at one-another in unison before breaking into a sprint toward the edge of the ship. As the pile of crumpled, frostbitten pirates began to awaken, the duo leapt overboard.

[spoiler]To Dante's Abyss![/spoiler]