One Piece; The Great Pirate Era

Hawkins frowned.

"You're going to fix the mess you got us into by entering that sharp shooter contest or whatever the hell it is," Hawkins said as he pointed behind Flint. Behind him was a banner similar to the one they had spotted earlier, welcoming anyone that could hold a gun and fire it properly. "It won't be easy but hopefully you can win something."

At first Flint was confused by Hawkins outburst and suggestions, but upon seeing the same exact banner, which he had laid eyes on when arriving to the town, it all started to become clear. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that!" He exclaimed enthusiastically, rereading the entire banner, even though there wasn't really anything new or revealing about it.

"Between all those crazy people and running, I forgot all about that!" He added, with a weak laugh, before his expression changed to a more serious tone, albeit by not much. "This is our first intentional island, now to search it freely!" With his latest goal set in mind, he started to cheerfully step forward and back to the lively town. However, that was soon stopped, by a furious growl and stomp of the foot by Anais.

"Maintain focus Flint! Don't tell me you already forgot about the contest!"

Stopping to inspect the sign and then the lively townspeople who were carrying guns of all sizes, shapes, and contraptions, Flint pondered it some more. "The contest, so we can get some reward to pay for your travels!" She explained annoyingly, as she folded her arms. "Or did you want to stay here for the rest of your life."

"The rest of my life!?" Flint exclaimed worryingly, "But I got to get to the Grand Line!"

"Then join the contest for us!"

"Right!" Flint exclaimed with a nod, before pulling out his duel tubular contraptions, and twirled them. Unfortunately, what he was hoping would be a cool move and pose, quickly took a terrible approach. Each firing contraption ceased spinning, and was locked by his fingers. That was until several mechanisms fell apart and dropped beneath his feet.

"We're doomed," was the first words that came to Hawkins' mind. He looked at Anais and she had the same expression.

"Let's get you signed up then," Hawkins said. He put a hand on Flint's shoulder encouragingly and led him in search of the sign up sheet. This was mostly to make sure Flint didn't wander off and forget their mission again.

Just up ahead back towards the main street where they had encountered the woman earlier, there was a booth where people were lined up. If that wasn't convincing enough, there was a sign overhead reading 'Sign Ups'.

Well, at least they're informative and organized.

Watching there only chances slipping and fading away from there, with every passing moment, Anais could do nothing else, but to stare uncontrollably at the train-wreck of events that were to come. "Great...looks like your alcoholic problems got us into another jam." She added through a sigh and lowly.

With little pieces left in his hand, something felt off. His creations felt light, too light in fact, like something was missing. To his shock, once he inspected each man-made pistol, Flint soon realized most of the mechanisms were below his feet, and that he wasn't holding much of his former pistols.

"Augh! No, my pistols!" Flint exclaimed with an irritated gasp. He hurriedly swept all the bolts, screws, springs, and metal pieces into his folded arms and cupped hands. It wasn't long before Hawkins was pushing him into the general direction wherever the contest entry was. At this moment he had other matters on his minds. That being his two shipwrecked, loose, and damaged pistols, and that he was hoping each piece, no matter how big or small, would not fall out of his grip. Especially when Hawkins was pushing him into the busy and crowded main-streets, where he would no doubt loose a piece or two, if they were to fall out of his clutches.

"Alright alright, sheesh. Stop pushing. You're going to make me drop something."

"How is he going to even enter, without a gun?" Anais asked Hawkins, because even though they no longer had the main item needed to enter, he was still pushing them to the contest registration.

"Working on it," Hawkins said. What he really meant was "I have no idea but it seems like one of those days where I'm just going to stick to my original plan and hope everything works out. And if it doesn't then I'll think of something".

They approached the booth. The line was moving fast most likely because the competition was about to begin shortly. Hawkins didn't need to say a word to the person in charge of registration to know he was about to deal with a very flamboyant person.

"Welcome! Competition starts in 15 minutes so you better hurry up and give me your information. Once the competition starts, we're closing registration!" he exclaimed in a sing-song sort of voice. This man was definitely odd. It wasn't just his dress which seemed rather luxurious given their location or even his slightly higher pitched voice. Those things, believe it or not, Hawkins found to be fairly normal compared to some of the people he had met in his lifetime. What was odd was Hawkins couldn't tell whether or not the man was wearing eyeliner or just happened to have very dark eye lashes.

"Uhh right." Hawkins motioned to Flint. "This guy wants to enter the contest."

"Excellent! What weapon will you be using?"

"Well uhh...here's the thing...." Hawkins began. He then motioned for Flint to show his busted contraption.

Flint wasn't really shocked at how this organization personnel dressed or acted, nor their taste in makeup. However he still acted surprised by something, which he took no effort in hiding. "Hey, I didn't know you were here Mr. Trooeefoo!" Flint exclaimed, upon seeing the extremely eccentric person.

Once Hawkins bumped him to show the person his contest pistol(s) of choice, he held his wrapped arms and hands out, before dumping the assortment of pistol pieces onto the registration desk. "Yup, I made this myself!" He stated in a matter of fact tone, as if he was proud of himself.

He didn't even take in the fact that his pistols were in pieces and probably wouldn't be accepted, nor that they had no money to buy something new, or probably have enough time to fix his already forcefully dismantled weapons. Things were already looking sour before they even got into the contest.

"...well technically we still have fifteen minutes." Anais hesitated to state, but mostly to Hawkins and Flint to a lesser extent.

OOC: oh no that was who I thought of as I made the character :p and okay. will post later cuz i believe siblings FINALLY GOT OFF THE DAMN TV WITH THE WII.

"Oh, what a shame," the man said. "Well, we do have some guns you can use for the competition. We just need a deposit."

Hawkins didn't wait to put his share of the coins he received from the woman on the table. They bounced on the table. He looked at Anais. "Sorry kid."

Despite Flint's fine craftsmanship, which was now a pile of bolts, screws, and metal plats, its true ingenuity could not be seen. With his duel pistols being unfit for duty and registration, fortunately they were informed the contest allowed firearm rentals.

"Oh wow! Rental guns!? That sounds fun!" Flint exclaimed, as this eccentric man explained their procedures. While there was no display of firearms anywhere, nor a menu of any kind, Flint could only imagine the variety of guns they had somewhere, for a paying customer to choose from. A million images ran through his mind, ranging from tiny pistols, to giant cannon bazookas. The list of weapons in his imagination was endless.

"So cool!" He stated energetically, before his spirits were dampened slightly. "But my old guns have been by my side forever..." On the other hand, the fact that he couldn't enter the contest with his true and loyal pistols, wasn't something he was overly happy about.

Anais put her coins on the table. There was a bit of reluctance but she knew it had to be done.

However, the man frowned.

"I'm going to need a little bit more than that for a deposit," he said. He then looked over and saw the line was growing behind them. "You're going to have to hurry, I can't keep you here all day!"

Crap. Hawkins looked around. There was no way they would raise enough money in fifteen minutes. Less than fifteen minutes. There had to be something Flint could use...

A group of kids were nearby. Most of them had toy guns that couldn't really shoot very far. And, most of them had the 'bullet' attached to a string that hung when the gun was fired. But there was one kid in that group causing a lot of trouble. He didn't have a toy gun but he had a slingshot and was shooting pebbles at the kids as they ran away in terror.

Hawkins got an idea.

Flint bemoaned the fact that not even all of their beris would be enough to cover the rental fee, or that he had lost his own bartering tool as well. "Aw no fair. If it wasn't for that stupid mob, I'd still have a fish to trade."

"He wouldn't accept stinky rotten fish anyways!" Anais felt the need to add, despite that they had more pressing matters at the moment. Such as them not having enough beris to enter the contest, which could had supplied them with money or a reward they could had sold, had they had the chance to compete and win.

However, any bickering or contemplating their bleak and uncertain future would have to be put on hold, as this colorful registration personnel was getting rather impatient. His last statement spelled that out all too clearly for them.

"Hey what's going on over there?" A person in line, behind the three chimed in annoyingly. "What's the hold up? Get out of line if you don't have the cash to join!" Another chimed in. "People like you make me sick, get a job you bum!" Added someone else in line, before a commotion began.

Stowing away his dismantled pistols, so that he wouldn't lose them in the meantime, Flint frowned at their predicament. "Well there's gotta be something we can do. Maybe you need help, strange guy?"

While Flint and Anais bickered amongst one another, Hawkins bent down to the boy. He flicked a shiny coin in front of his face. The kid's eyes widened at the sight of it.

"I'm sorry I just don't have anything for you to do..." the man at the booth was saying. Before, he was being nice. Now, he was clearly impatient and probably didn't take Flint's insult all that well either.

"Here," Hawkins said as he placed the slingshot on the table. "He's going to compete with this."

As soon as Hawkins placed Flint's sharpshooting tool on the table, he inspected it. "...A sling shot." Anais remarked, her tone very pessimistic. "You have to be kidding me. There's no way he can compete with that." Whether or not Flint could compete with this child's toy wasn't what she was implying.

"No way!" Flint exclaimed, once he forcefully grabbed the slingshot off of the table. "Awesome!" The elastic bands stretched as he pulled them back, and inspected each nook and cranny of this Y-shaped toy. "This'll be fun!"

"It's not a game! We just threw all our expenses on this!" Anais reasoned, before sighing after her outburst. "And we have a slingshot going against real guns..."

"Yeah, the last thing we want is for you to break it before you even enter the competition," Hawkins said. He then looked towards the man at the booth who hadn't said anything yet regarding the weapon.

"Well, I suppose this could work," he said. "Alright, let's sign you up!"

He handed Flint a lavish quill for him to sign up.

Hawkins sighed with relief.

"Relax guys, it's not going to break." Flint remarked calmly, as he still had the elastic sling pulled and stretched back. However, it wasn't to the point that the rubber would snap. Not that would help ease the worries of Hawkins or Anais in the least.

Once it was time to finally register, Flint released the sling's grip slowly. It limply laid in place, not snapping or springing into any direction. "Alright, finally!" He exclaimed, his tone sounding more enthusiastic then spiteful. Once he grabbed the feathered pen, he immediately jabbed it into a ink jar, and etched his name onto the list.

There seemed to had been a few others, besides him, who had already registered, making his entry not the last, but neither the first.

"Perfect! Now just head right down this road towards the arena. You can't miss it, just follow everyone else!" the man explained once Flint had registered. He pointed towards the road up ahead where, sure enough, was a mass of people trying to get in either participating in the competition or merely being spectators. The arena was just in sight too. It was a fairly decent size, certainly not a gargantuan of an arena.

"Take this ID with you. Make sure you give it to them at the entrance." Flint was then handed a card with a number on it. He was number 163.

"Thanks," Hawkins said. He motioned for Flint and Anais to follow and hurry towards the arena as the people behind them were now shouting at an all time high.

"Good luck!" the man called.

_________

When they were able to reach the front of the arena, which did not take as long as Hawkins thought but he guessed that was due to the event beginning shortly, a group of people stood by the entrance. Half of this group was watching spectators find their seats to make sure no funny business occurred. The other half was checking ID cards.

Even from the entrance way, Hawkins could see the set up of the arena. He guessed they were going to compete in various categories because the first set up seemed pretty basic. There was a long row of targets lined up and parallel to each target was a competitor. Some spots were empty and currently being filled but there was clearly going to be waves of some sort because there weren't enough targets for the amount of people in line.

Whatever, Hawkins thought. He really didn't care about the logistics of this competition so long as Flint won. Or, got close enough to get prize money.

"Alright, looks like we got to split up," Hawkins said as they approached the entrance. He turned to Flint. "Good luck. And remember: Don't screw this up." It wasn't clear whether Hawkins was giving him a glare or was trying to legitimately be supportive and failing.

"Thanks, strange guy!" Flint exclaimed cheerfully, as he took his slingshot and paper-slip. He happily followed Hawkins, along with Anais, to where a huge crowd of people were converging. He really didn't know what was going on. To an extent he did, the contest, but this crowd was just a little too disorganized.

Not that he cared too much about the details, because he wasn't the one organizing it. When his time came to shoot, or whatever this contest would be about, he would do his thing. For now he took in the sight of the hectic and energetic crowd.

Once they grew closer to the stadium, he then took in the sight of the shooting range. While the crowd was a sight, what really did it in for him, was the handy work of the range. "Woah, this is even more awesome then I imagined!" Flint exclaimed, almost unable to contain his pent up energy. "I wonder when it will start, or be my turn!"

"I'm guessing when they call number 163." Anais remarked expressionlessly, to which Flint moaned and frowned. "Aw, don't say that! That will take forever!"

Once they reached the pathway where the spectators and participants went separate ways, Flint nodded to Hawkins words. "Don't worry, I got this!" He added, before waving and heading to wherever the participant line was.

"How much of a chance do you think he has, with a slingshot?" Anais asked, while Hawkins and her walked through their own pathway.

"Eh, he'll be fine," Hawkins replied. However, he really wasn't entirely sure.

Back in line, there was one person taking ID cards while another handed each person an ID that was displayed on their chest and back. At first, this seemed impractical to Hawkins. But then he noticed how this process was slowing the line down and giving enough time for shooters to aim at the targets before the next round of competitors was ready.

Evidently, this first part was meant to weed out most of the competition.

Flint handed in his paper slip, which had clearly been handled a little too much during it's short travel. In return, he was given a larger number sheet, two in fact. One would go on his back and the other on his front, and was attached together by strings resting across his shoulders.

Because he was the 168th person to register, he also earned the same number displayed across his chest and back. After it was placed on correctly, and he had neatly unwrinkled it, he cheerfully smiled. For something that most would see as trivial and insignificant, he seemed to really enjoy his new marking.

However, once he moved forward, he was back in what seemed to be a never-ending line. With nothing else to do but impatiently and enthusiastically wait, and wonder when it would be his turn.

"Well, we should find some seats. This looks like it will take a while..." Anais said to Hawkins, after his somewhat unconvincing reply. That is, if there were any seats to be had anywhere. There was such a large crowd, that their might not be any seats at all, or worst, they were already taken.

Unfortunately she couldn't find anything, no chairs, bleachers, stands, or even a lone stump...only column and columns of spectators. She really didn't want to stand throughout this whole thing, especially during the wait for it to even start. "Or you can find me a snack, after what you've put me through..." She added, as she folded her arms.

"A snack? Who the hell wants a snack when you can have a breakfast instead?" Hawkins asked and as he said this he revealed two more coins between his fingers. Apparently, he hadn't spent all the savings on the slingshot. He placed the coins back into hiding. Seeing that there wasn't any seats available, Hawkins moved out of the way of the crowd and stood towards the back. "Let's just make sure he gets past round one."

The participants were given five bullets to aim at their targets. Hawkins watched nervously as he noticed those that seemed to be moving forward had to get nearly all bulls eyes. Every shooter seemed to have a different technique and a completely different weapon. There were some that fired in near rapid succession (or at least, as close to rapid succession as they could) while others took their time. The ones that took their time seemed to be the ones that didn't advance. Although, there were some that did.

One thing was certain though: this line was moving rather quickly though Hawkins wasn't sure exactly how long he waited for Flint to finally get in front of his own target.

"I guess we should wait to see if he makes it." Anais remarked, after she listened to Hawkins and watched him flash his extra beris. She watched one 'sharpshooter' who aimed at his target, before firing. The bull-eyes didn't even move, he completely missed, and his bullet splashed into the waters beyond.

Although that meant one person who wouldn't be in the competition, she also cringed if something similar happened to Flint.

Elsewhere anxiously, Flint fidgeted in the tight line. Although it seemed to be moving at a reasonable pace, it still didn't help his nerves in the least. It wasn't that he was worried, more that he was being a little impatient. He watched from the sidelines as a few of the participants perfectly landed a hit, while others missed completely, or were not as close to the middle as the others.

"I just had to be the 163rd person in line..." He bemoaned, reading over his number sheet, and then at the line. Sure it was steady-moving, but that didn't change the fact that he was still 163rd in line.

"So is this your first time?" Another participant asked Flint, he was labeled as 162. "Huh? Oh yeah, sure is!"

"This will be my fourth time. What model are you competing with?" The man asked, clearly holding a revolver of some sort. Staring at the details of his slingshot, Flint shrugged. "I don't know, it doesn't say."

"Wait?" The man stopped dumbfounded, as he realized what Flint was going to be using. With a burst of laughter, he shook his head, and left "Good luck with that!" Was the words he left Flint with, as he went to one of the now empty targets.

Suddenly it was Flint's turn, as one of the organizers called out to him to approach. He was immediately handed five identical bullets. "Alright, time to get serious!" Flint exclaimed with a skip, as he rushed towards his empty target.

He was between two other sharpshooters, using their own models. Once they got a look at his slingshot, the two of them had to stop shooting momentarily. "Hey who's your sponsor? Hasbro?" One of the instigators chimed in.

"Has-what?" Flint rose a brow, before dismissing his remarks. Readying his sling, with his five bullets in hand, the other sharpshooter purposely bumped into him. "Whoops!"

Doing so caused Flint to drop all five bullets. They all bounced and rolled in between the planks of the stand and pier, before plummeting into the water. Although Flint tried to follow their pattern and grab them, it was to late.

Hawkins slapped his forehead.

"You got to be kidding me."

One thing was for sure, if Flint somehow managed to get out of this, he wasn't going to be watching the rest of tournament. Unless he wanted to die of a heart attack. 

Not all of the crowd was able to witness the demise of Flint's bullets. But those that did gasped. A few started to yell at the foul play. But the fact of the matter was, there was no penalty for 'accidentally' knocking another's bullets over. Eventually, those that hadn't been paying attention to Flint took notice of his plight and were now watching him with fascination.

"That's got to be against the rules!" Anais accusingly pointed and theorized quite loudly. "Is there a written list of rules?"

After Flint realized all his bullets had slipped through his fingers, and in a way his opportunity in this contest, he stared and growled angrily at the sharpshooter who bumped him. "Hey, what's the big idea!? You did that on purpose!" He fumingly barked, still on all fours and on the floor, before springing upwards.

"Oh well, looks like you're out of the game now!" The instigating sharpshooter remarked, through his snickers. He flawlessly hit another part of his target, before Flint grabbed him by the fabric near his shoulder. "You bastard, give me one of your bullets!"

With his last bullet in hand, the sharpshooter slid it into his gun, all the while maintaining a poker face in Flint's 'threatening' state. "Oops." They remarked, before even firing the gun at his target again.

Suddenly a whistle blew, as one of the event organizers started flagging down Flint. "Assaulting another contestant is against the rules. You will be disqualified if you continue!"

"What!?" Flint shouted, after staring at the event personnel, and then at the sneering sharpshooter. "He hit me first!"

Hawkins didn't say anything. He knew his shouting would never reach Flint and even if it did by some miraculous reason, Flint probably wouldn't listen to what he said. In fact, his yelling at Flint would probably make everything worse.

Trying to stay calm, Hawkins merely watched the feud between the two carry on, hoping he could trust Flint enough to  not screw this up before he even began to damn contest.

As Flint's situation worsened, and he was about to be disqualified for attempted assault, Anais worryingly stared at the scene and then at Hawkins. "Aren't you going to do something?"

However, Hawkins lack of words or inaction explained his stance a little too well for her liking. Because she was one of the younger spectators, most people were taller then her, and therefore she had difficulty seeing as easily as they could. Taking matters into her own hands, at least for the moment, she furiously climbed up Hakwins back.

Using his shirt, shoulder, and then head to lift and climb herself up and over the towering mass of spectators, she spotted Flint easily. "Hey, don't be stupid!" Anais shouted, holding onto Hawkins and shouting at the top of her lungs. "You're going to get us kicked out!"

The event personnel stared at Flint and was ready to disqualify him, as he still held the one instigating sharpshooter from the sleeve of his shirt. "Aw, but he started it! He ruined our chances!"

"I don't care, you need to think of something!" Anais added, before Flint reluctantly released his grip on the man's sleeve.

With all his bullets in the water, he couldn't go swimming for them. Not with devil fruit powers, at least. And even if Hawkins or Anais could, there's no telling how much time they would have to search for a tiny bullet under the large waters.

Getting someone to spare even one bullet was impossible, especially when it was from the instigators, and the staff didn't seem to care about giving him more or their own rules. Then one thing came to mind, which he could definitely use. The mere thought of it placed a tremendous damper on his spirits, however.

Slowly rustling a hand into his pocket, he slowly pulled out a peculiar oval sized piece of scrap metal. "This is so not fair..." He remarked, as he drew the sling back, and aimed at the target. He hesitated to fire, even though he knew he had a pretty good shot.

Well I guess if it'll help us out. Get us to the Grand Line...with that resolution, although still unsatisfactory, Flint released the sling, before veering away from the target. It's not that he didn't want to see if he hit the bullseyes or not, but that he didn't want to see the piece slip away.

Hawkins was in deep thought about whether or not he should sacrifice his breakfast for the sake of a drink (which he seriously needed right now) when he suddenly felt someone climbing on him. At first, he didn't know what was happening. It wasn't very often that people treated him like a tree.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Hawkins shouted as he figured out it was Anais climbing on him. He was going to yell at her, tell her it would do them no good but then she started to scream to Flint. Her yelling was so loud Hawkins thought his eardrums might explode.

"Will you stop that!" he shouted. "Damn it, you're going to make me deaf!" He grabbed Anais as she finished her conversation with Flint and put her back down on the ground. He then wriggled a finger in his ear so it popped back to its normal hearing. She definitely had pipes on her.

"Now," Hawkins said when he was more calm. "I'll lift you back up but I don't want anymore yelling in my ear. Understand?"

OOC: i have more but i need a reaction first.