Swords swung and pistols fired as Scar danced across the deck as if it was a stage. The effortless manner in which he weaved through the attacks, perfectly timing his blocks or weaving out of the way at the last minute. It only made it seem less like a battle and more like it was just a choreographed performance being carried out.

The fact that his enemies own weapons kept turning away from him, as if they weren't allowed to actually hit the main performer even when he messed up the routine. No observer would ever believe it was a real fight.

Were they really expected to believe that his enemies all kept 'coincidentally' tripping over their own feet and falling into his swords path? Yeah right.

Thankfully, there was no one around to slander Scar's good name before it could really take off. The only possible witness was far away, laying on a cliffside and wetting his pants as he watched a mecha magical girl screaming different special move names as she chopped up crabs with nothing more than basic swings.

No, Scar was only surrounded by fear and dead men.

He stabbed his falchion through the throat of an ghostly pirate who had a starfish glued over his mouth. He never even had a chance to so much as gurgle, nevermind beg, before he collapsed to the ground and started to melt into a pile of putrid green goop.

The same had happened to all that he had slain, leaving behind nothing but their weapons and a heavy metallic cuff that had a broken chain dangling from it.

Whirling around, Scar stared into the terrified eyes of his next victim. The pirate was holding a flintlock out towards him, his hand trembling so much the barrel was massively wobbling. He had no chance of ever hitting a shot, yet still he held it out as his teeth chattered.

The pirate whimpered softly when Seth quickly raised his own hand, making a gun symbol out of his fingers and pointing it at the pirate like it was a real pistol.

They stood there for a few seconds, staring each other down, before Scar began to move his 'gun' towards himself. He slowly but surely raised it up and pressed the barrel of the 'gun' against his own head.

The pirate mirrored him, raising the very real flintlock to his own head and pressing it against his temple. The weapon trembled in his hand the entire time, but not out of fear this time. Not entirely.

Instead it was from him fighting the weapon as it moved on its own. He was straining his arm, using all the strength he could muster, yet it simply wouldn't shift its position. The barrel was trembling just enough that it barely slipped away from his temple before it moved back.

Maybe if he just devoted all of his energy to that part, then he could-

BANG!

Scar simply dropped his thumb like the hammer of a gun and, at the exact same time, the sound of a muffled shot rang out before a body slumped to the ground. He frowned softly when the body dropped, because no other attacks followed it.

He slowly turned, casting a curious gaze over the terrified spectral sailor surrounding him. There were still plenty alive, yet none of them made a move. They simply stared at him as if... well as if they had seen a ghost.

The fear filling the air was absolutely delicious and almost overwhelming. He had the feeling that if ghosts were capable of soiling themselves, that this would have another reason to be called the poop deck.

"Well? What are you waiting for? I thought you were supposed to be pirates, not pathetic whimpering cowards. You are the scourge of the seven seas! Yet you turn into snivelling whelps as soon as you face something you can't easily overwhelm.

Doesn't feel good to have the shoe on the other foot, does it."

Scar sneered in utter disdain as he slowly turned, looking over the terrified ghosts as they surrounded him. None attacked, but they didn't flee either fearing that it would mean a death from behind.

But perhaps it wasn't from him that they were expecting that death to come from.

One of them dropped to his knees, clasping his hands together in front of himself as his face twisted into face of depraved desperation that made Scar want to vomit. He seemed like he was ready to grovel at his feet and kiss them in hopes that it would spare his life, or even start kissing something else.

But he never got a chance to speak his desperate, snivelling plea as his head exploded.

Scar raised an eyebrow behind his mask as the putrid black blood splattered at his feet, as through the bullet hole in the pirates forehead he could see the approaching figure responsible for that hole.

Leather boots creaked as the man slowly marched up the steps without a hint of hurry. A long coat covered a surprisingly well developed and muscular body, so much that the coat looked like it was ready to tear itself into shreds from one good flex.

A total of twelve guns adored the various belts he wore across his person, with the thirteenth nestled in his hand. It's barrel still curling with smoke.

Lit fuses dangled from the mans tricorne hat, leaving a trail of smoke in the figures wake. However that was nothing compared to his beard.

It was a bushy and wild beard, one that was composed entirely of pure black flames. They licked at his lips, which were twisted into a yellow toothed snarl. From beneath the beard, there were hints of some kind of metallic collar around his neck that was welded to his skin.

It only made sense, after all. The last time this man had been seen, his head had been removed from that neck. If it weren't for that collar, he would most likely be in the same situation as Daisy was.

"I have to say, I was wondering when the Captain of this fine vessel would come to meet me. I hope you at least live up to your legacy more than your worthless crew because so far... I'm not impressed."

The Captain stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow of his own. He holstered his pistol and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it off of his own beard before placing it between his lips. After a long draw, smoke poured from his mouth along with a cold, gravelled voice.

"So you've heard of me boy? You were expecting me, even. Yet you still come aboard my ship and kill my men. You are either stupid, or simply mad."

"Well, I do have a split personality so to speak. But unfortunately I am quite sane. No... I came here myself for bragging rights above all else, it's why I was hoping you were here with your ship.

After all, there are not many who will get to say they killed the legendary Blackbeard."

Scar lifted his sword, pointing it towards the ghost of Blackbeard, who simply scoffed. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it over the edge of the ship. His hand fell and rested on the hilt of his own sword, the cutlass hanging from his belt, as he idly stroked the pommel.

"Is that so? Well... I have never taken well to death. First they cut off my head, yet even headless I swam around that bastards ship before diving to the depths. Now I have crawled out of that watery grave, alive once more and my head back on my shoulders where it belongs.

I am more powerful than ever, with an undying crew at my beck and call. What makes you think that you can kill me, boy?"

Scar didn't answer, simply lifting his sword higher as azure flames erupted along the blades length, flickering softly in the dim light of the moon. His aura radiated a sense of absolute self assured smugness, as if this was nothing more than a game to him.

Blackbeard growled lowly, his beard flaring up as the flames it was made of grew in size and intensity. He slowly drew his sword, levelling it with Scar's so that the blades were only a few inches away.

"Fine. It be your opportunity to see what a watery grave feels like. Maybe we'll drag your spirit back with us, make you part of the crew since you killed so many of them. I could do with a new figurehead. Or maybe I'll hang you from the ropes and fly you like a flag.

Oh, now that sounds like a wonderful idea~"

He flashed Scar another rotten toothed smile and twisted his sword slightly. It was with that simple motion, that the entire ship came to life. The sails flapped wildly in a non-existent wind and wooden boards rattled and creaked as if they were stretching. Most importantly, the ropes rapidly untied themselves and shot towards Scar, immediately wrapping around his throat.