O'Hara, a West Sea island, wasn't yet renowned but was already drawing global archaeologists. Its rise to an archaeological mecca stemmed from its leader, Cloba. No longer the aged doctor, he was a radical, scouring the world for ancient relics to unravel the century-long void in history. His obsession led to multiple Navy arrests, yet release only fueled his resolve, boosting his academic fame.
Their voyages were perilous. The Navy offered no protection, often branding such exploration ships as pirate vessels. To actual pirates, Cloba's crew was a looting target—ruins equaled treasure in their eyes, despite the scholars' empty hands.
Why flee with no treasure? Pirates weren't merciful. Surrendering to the Navy, who'd merely detain them, was safer than banking on pirate kindness.
"Doctor, our weapons can't handle those pirates!" a sailor cried.
The pirates' ships, honed for plunder, outpaced O'Hara's expedition vessel. Only night delayed their pursuit.
"Don't give up! Check the ship ahead—hope it's not pirates," Cloba urged.
Sailing's unwritten rules—aid among non-pirates, shipwreck rescues—hinged on the other ship's judgment. Suspicion often meant no help.
"Dr. Cloba, it's a MADS research ship, not pirates!" a scholar reported.
MADS, though illegal, dwarfed O'Hara's repute, famed for academic breakthroughs and repelling pirate attacks. Its strength and connections far surpassed Cloba's crew.
"MADS? Perfect! Fire a flare!" Cloba said. He'd met Vegapunk in the West Sea, pre-Orlan, forging a bond.
Whoosh! A flare burst skyward, but MADS was ready—Blitzcrank had spotted them first. Vegapunk emerged from his lab, joining most key researchers, save the recovering Caesar.
"Anyone testing new gear? If not, I'll take these pirates," Orlan said.
MADS's arsenal never lacked. Even Vegapunk's peace-driven inventions doubled as war tools, and pirates targeting MADS were perfect test subjects.
"My flower bomb's ready," Kate said.
"I've got a stun gun to try," Judge added.
Quinn shrugged, empty-handed. Neither Vegapunk nor Judge could fight up close, so they relied on mercenaries like Bakin, a former Rocks crew member adept against Grand Line pirates—and motivated by cash.
Hired by Judge's hefty offer, Bakin grabbed his stun gun. Kate, armed with flower bombs, joined her, eager to crush villains—a personal mission.
"Wipe out these pirates, one less crew worse than meow," Kate growled.
"Captain Dylan! We're closing in! Another ship's ahead!" a pirate shouted.
"Rob 'em both! Treasure's waiting!" Dylan roared, his crew gripping weapons and ropes for boarding.
Thud! A mechanical arm slammed onto the pirate deck, a chain whipping from the dark. Sparks raced along it, stunning the crew.
"Shoot, you idiots!" Dylan barked, sensing a counterattack.
Too slow. Kate, launched by Blitzcrank's arm, landed aboard. "Vegapunk's gun's too finicky—needs perfect aim. Orlan's stuff's better," she muttered.
She fired flower bombs, their muted shots dealing no direct damage. To the pirates, it was a toy gun.
"Hey, kid's playing games! Fake guns don't kill!" one sneered.
"Cat-like kid—special ability? She'll fetch a fortune at auction," another grinned.
His voice cut off as an electric pulse pierced his neck, followed by Kate's laser-like Hexheart beam. "Worst ones first. Plenty of targets left," she said, her hatred for slavers—echoes of her captors—igniting.
The kitten turned tiger. The fallen pirate riled the others, who fired—only for their guns to sprout colorful flowers.
"What the—? Where's the ammo?"
"Guns blooming? Switch to knives!"
Before they could react, Kate was among them. Her Hexheart surged, electric currents erupting, blasting pirates away.
Super Flash!
Currents wreathed her, gun discarded. Overloaded, she didn't need it. Melee AD's rule: the closer the range, the deadlier the strike.
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