Capítulo 67: The New Bead Rider
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A few days had passed since Jack had left the Bead Rider in the care of Tom and his apprentices, and when he returned to the workshop, he found it buzzing with activity. The air was thick with the smell of oil and hot metal, filled with the sounds of hammering and drilling. Amidst the cacophony, he spotted Tom, Iceburg, and Franky, covered in soot and grease, huddled over a set of blueprints.
Franky was the first to spot him, his face breaking into an excited grin. "Jack!" he called, waving him over. "We've been waiting for ya!"
Jack nodded in response, making his way over to them. He surveyed the scene, taking in the various mechanical parts scattered around and the upgrades made to his Bead Rider. It was clear that they'd been hard at work in his absence.
"All right, boys, what do you have for me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his deep blue eyes scanning the room.
Tom wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a satisfied grin on his face. "Well, Jack," he started, "We've been busy."
"Firstly," Iceburg began, pointing at the blueprints, "we've reinforced the hull of your boat. It's now coated with an alloy we've devised that can withstand immense pressure. This should allow your boat to dive deep without getting crushed."
Jack's eyes flickered to the boat, his gaze thoughtful. "What about the coating?" he asked, returning his gaze to the shipwrights.
"That's the best part!" Franky piped up, a gleam in his eyes. "We've built a mechanism inside the Bead Rider, a kind of pump. It will draw in seawater and use a special compound to convert it into a resilient coating bubble. You'll be able to submerge whenever you want!"
"However," Iceburg added, "the coating process will still take some time. You can't just dive in instantly. It's not perfect, but it's a significant improvement."
"And the energy source?" Jack asked, referring to the unique power that ran his boat. He kept his gaze steady, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Franky's infectious enthusiasm.
Tom answered this time, "We made sure not to tamper with it. The glow, the energy...it's fascinating, but it's beyond our understanding. We focused on ensuring that the upgrades wouldn't interfere with it."
A silence fell upon the group as they all turned to look at the Bead Rider. It was still the same boat, yet it felt different—stronger, capable of greater things.
Franky broke the silence, his voice filled with pride, "So, Jack, what do you think?"
Jack stepped forward, his gaze moving over the boat. He laid a hand on its hull, feeling the energy pulsating beneath. His fingers brushed over the spot where the new mechanism had been installed. For a moment, he closed his eyes, feeling the heartbeat of the boat under his fingertips.
When he opened his eyes, his deep blue gaze was thoughtful, appreciative. He turned to look at Tom, Iceburg, and Franky, a rare smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "You've done well," he acknowledged, his voice carrying an undertone of respect.
There was a moment of silence, and then the workshop erupted into cheers. Franky whooped loudly, punching the air in victory, while Iceburg gave a satisfied nod, a small smile playing on his lips. Tom, his face gleaming with sweat and satisfaction, simply clapped Jack on the shoulder, his grin wide.
Jack looked around the bustling workshop one last time, then gestured to Tom, Franky, and Iceburg. "Let's have a seat," he suggested, pointing to a nearby bench where the noise was slightly less deafening. The three shipwrights followed him, their expressions curious and a little apprehensive.
Once they were settled, Jack turned to face them. "You three have done well, beyond my expectations," he began, his voice steady. "And for that, you have my gratitude. But I've noticed something else, something that doesn't sit right with me."
Tom exchanged glances with his apprentices, a frown on his face. "What do you mean, Jack?" he asked cautiously.
Jack took a deep breath, his gaze becoming colder, the serene blue of his eyes deepening to the color of a stormy sea. "I've seen the way people treat you, the way they avoid you, Tom," he said pointedly. "And I want to know why."
The shipwright's eyes widened a little at the directness of the question. He was quiet for a moment, then he let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. "It's because I'm a fishman," he confessed, his voice tinged with a weary resignation.
Franky and Iceburg glanced at each other, their expressions uneasy. Despite their boss's acceptance, it was clear that they too were aware of the discrimination their mentor faced, and they shared his frustration.
Jack's eyes narrowed. "And that's reason enough for them to ostracize you?" he asked, his voice hard. The outrage in his tone was clear, and it seemed to lift a weight from Tom's shoulders. There was something comforting in Jack's anger, in his fierce loyalty.
Tom shook his head. "No, it's not fair. But it's the world we live in, Jack," he replied, his voice soft. "I've learned to live with it. What's more important is that I get to do what I love, build ships. That's enough for me."
Jack regarded Tom for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "It's not enough for me," he said, his voice determined. "You've shown me nothing but respect and dedication. You deserve better."
Silence fell over them, the noise of the workshop seeming to fade into the background. Tom looked at Jack, something like gratitude shining in his eyes. Iceburg and Franky were watching their new friend with a newfound respect, their faces glowing with admiration.
The silence stretched in the room, the lingering sense of Jack's fierce loyalty like a comforting blanket. Tom's fingers drummed on the wooden bench, his gaze averted. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice a touch harder than before.
"It's not just here, Jack," he said. "It's everywhere. Fishmen and mermaids are bought and sold like commodities all over the world. Some lands see us as nothing more than trophies to display."
Franky shifted uncomfortably, the mood in the room growing heavier. Iceburg looked on with a grim expression, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful understanding.
"Even our home, Fishman Island, is not safe," Tom continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's hidden deep beneath the ocean's surface, a secret paradise. But we're still hunted, still seen as lesser creatures."
His words hung in the air, a bitter truth that stung more than any physical blow. Jack's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. A fierce determination burned in his eyes, like a storm brewing deep in the ocean.
"That's the destiny of our race, Jack," Tom said, his voice hoarse. He didn't meet Jack's gaze, but he didn't need to. The air in the room had grown tense, a silent testament to the grim reality he'd painted.
Jack was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on Tom. There was a steely resolve in his eyes that wasn't there before.
"That destiny is not acceptable," he said finally, his voice cold as ice.
A glint of something dangerous flashed in Jack's eyes. A moment passed before his lips curled into a smirk, but there was no mirth in it, only a chilling promise. "They are pirates, right?" he asked, his voice carrying a tone that made the room go cold. "People who target and sell you?"
Tom's eyes hardened at the question, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Either pirates or scums of other kinds," he answered, his voice laced with a bitter resentment.
In response, Jack merely nodded, his gaze holding a glacial resolve. He reached into his pocket and produced a bag of gold, tossing it on the workbench with a soft thud. It was a casual action, but the impact it held was anything but.
"Good thing that I am a Pirate Hunter," he declared, his voice as hard as the metal hull of the Bead Rider.
Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, his tall figure cutting through the workshop with an intimidating grace. As he passed the Bead Rider, it seemed to shimmer and vanish, slipping into the Bead's pocket space as easily as water through a sieve.
His footsteps echoed in the workshop, growing fainter as he disappeared into the distance. The workshop was left in a stunned silence, the echoes of Jack's promise still ringing in their ears.
A new determination kindled in their eyes as they watched their friend depart, a fierce defiance that hadn't been there before. Jack's words had struck a chord within them. It was a call to arms, a promise of retribution. They were not alone. They had an ally, and a powerful one at that.
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