Twelve men total. Three on deck. Gideon's the primary threat—six-foot-six, maybe two-fifty, armed with that cavalry saber. The nervous one to my left has a cutlass but keeps glancing at the longboat. Wants an escape route. The stocky one's got a club and no imagination. Alyssa's behind me. Deck space is maybe twenty feet by fifteen. Cramped quarters favor speed over strength.
"Rigging!" Pierre barked, shoving Alyssa backward toward the mainmast. "Get behind the rigging!"
The nervous pirate lunged forward, cutlass gleaming in the afternoon sun. Pierre didn't meet the attack head-on—that would be suicide against a trained swordsman. Instead, he let his enhanced agility carry him sideways, the D-rank speed feeling like lightning in his veins compared to his old Earth reflexes.
