From the burning bridge of the warship, a figure in a pristine white officer's coat emerged, his face a mask of cold fury. He was tall, powerfully built, and carried the air of a man accustomed to absolute authority. A Rear Admiral of the Grand Line fleet. He stepped over the groaning bodies of his own men without a second glance, his eyes fixed on the man in the star-spangled uniform.
"You, in the ridiculous costume," the Rear Admiral barked, his voice sharp with contempt. "I am Rear Admiral Jaga of Marine Headquarters. You have made a grave error today. Do you dare face me?"
Captain America turned from the chaos he had wrought, a slow, dangerous smile touching his lips. He said nothing. He simply raised his hand and crooked a finger, a universal gesture of challenge. Come and get me.
The insult, so casual and confident, made Jaga's eye twitch. "You have destroyed my ship and broken my men," he snarled, dropping into a low combat stance. "For that, I will give you a death you will not enjoy."
He vanished.
"Soru!"
Using the Rokushiki's high-speed movement technique, Jaga exploded across the deck, becoming an invisible blur. In less than the blink of an eye, he reappeared directly in front of Captain America, his body already coiled for a killing blow. His right index finger was extended, hardened like a spear tip, and aimed directly at Riven's heart.
"Shigan!" (Finger Pistol!)
It was a classic assassin's combination: use Soru to bypass the opponent's reaction time and deliver a fatal, piercing strike with Shigan before they could even register the attack. Against any normal opponent, even a seasoned warrior, it would have been an instant kill.
But Captain America's mind was a supercomputer built for war.
A Soru-to-Shigan gambit, Riven analyzed in the microsecond he had. Fast. Brutal. An attempt to end the fight before it begins. A good tactic for a normal human. But for me? I can see every twitch of his muscles. I can see the air parting around his finger. This is far too slow.
With a smirk, he moved. Not his body, but his arm. Just as the tip of Jaga's finger was about to make contact, the Vibranium shield snapped up, a perfect, circular wall between them.
CLANG!
The sound was not the wet crunch of flesh and bone. It was the sound of a steel rod striking an unmovable anvil. It was followed instantly by a sickening crack and a high-pitched, agonized scream.
"Aaaargh! MY FINGER!"
Rear Admiral Jaga stumbled back, clutching his hand, his face pale with shock and excruciating pain. His index finger, which he had trained for years to be as hard and sharp as a bullet, was now a mangled, broken mess. The force of the impact had been reflected back at him tenfold. He stared at his ruined hand, then at the pristine, unscratched shield, his mind refusing to process what had happened. The pain was blinding, a white-hot agony that shot all the way up to his shoulder.
"You wanted to put a hole through my chest," Captain America said, his voice laced with a cold, almost casual menace. "Instead, I think you'll be signing your reports with your other hand from now on."
Jaga grit his teeth, forcing the pain down. His pride was wounded even more than his hand. The Shigan was a technique that could pierce steel plates. It should have gone through that ridiculous shield like paper.
Then I'll just have to let him break his fists on me instead!
"You're a fool if you think that's all I have!" Jaga roared. He took a deep breath, and his entire body seemed to harden, his muscles tensing to the density of iron. His skin took on a dark, metallic sheen. "Tekkai!" (Iron Body!)
He stood there, an immovable statue of rage. "Go on!" he taunted, a confident, cruel smirk returning to his face. "Your strength is impressive, I'll give you that. But no matter how strong you are, you can never break through a master's Tekkai! A common brawler like you can never defeat the power of the Rokushiki!"
Riven looked at the hardened marine, then slowly nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That is impressive," he admitted.
Jaga's smirk widened. "See? Now you understand. Surrender now. Acknowledge your defeat. I might even be convinced to grant you a swift death."
Riven let the silence hang for a moment. Then, he chuckled. A low, genuine laugh.
"What's so funny?" Jaga demanded, his confidence faltering slightly.
"I'm laughing," Captain America said, his eyes glinting with mischief, "at how stupid you are."
He spun, launching his shield. But he didn't aim it at Jaga. He threw it high and wide, sending it careening off to the side of the ship. Jaga, having learned from the Shigan incident, instinctively dodged, sidestepping what he thought was a desperate, wild throw.
"Hah! You missed!" he gloated, puffing out his chest.
"Did I?" Riven asked.
Jaga's eyes widened. He heard it before he saw it: a sharp, whistling sound coming from behind him. He started to turn, his Tekkai still active, but it was too late.
WHAM!
The Vibranium shield, having completed its impossible, ricocheting arc, slammed into the back of his head with the force of a freight train. His Tekkai, which only hardened the muscles on the front of his body, offered no protection. Jaga's eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed to the deck like a puppet with its strings cut, completely unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Captain America caught the shield as it returned to his grasp, the familiar weight settling onto his arm. He looked down at the defeated admiral, then at the burning, sinking ship around him. His work here wasn't done.
He sprinted through the chaos, smoke and flames licking at his heels. He found the ship's control room. The helm was still functional. With a grunt of effort, he wrenched the wheel, turning the dying vessel. He locked it in place, aiming its bow directly at the next closest warship in the Buster Call fleet.
A final, parting gift.
With the ship now a massive, unguided firebomb, Riven ran back onto the deck. Without a moment's hesitation, he took a running leap, diving headfirst into the churning, open sea below.
He hit the water in a clean dive. The super-soldier serum made him as adept in the water as he was on land. One ship down. Nine to go. He began to swim, a lone star of defiance moving silently beneath the waves, preparing to face the rest of the storm.