Though hidden beneath his duster (now struggling to hold off the rain as it poured off his hat and onto his person), Captain Jean Lafitte III always left his ship armed. His crossbow pistols strapped to his sides and hip already loaded, only requiring a full cock in order to be ready to fire. His Machete, in which he’d been trained by the rebels in Haiti before he’d been transported to this world, was sheathed opposite his hip-holstered pistol.
It was this very fact that would be his life’s saving grace when two equally armed gangsters casually, but unmistakably purposefully, began making their way through the thinned, rain-soaked crowd. As the storm thundered around him, Lafitte hung his head low, avoiding making any kind of eye contact or sign that he’d noticed the gangsters’ presence. Reaching his hand inside his jacket, he grabbed hold of the crossbow pistol in its holster, but didn’t pull it. If they believed they had the advantage, it would be Lafitte who would have the element of surprise when he struck.
Lafitte tensed, just about ready to pull it out as he got nearer to his target, when all of a sudden it was he who received the shock when Prince Peino struck seemingly out of nowhere. As the first man swung on him, Lafitte wasted no time.
Pulling and cocking the Crossbow pistol, Lafitte smirked beneath his mask and then grabbed hold of his Machete and calmly marched over to the woman pulling a dagger from her boot. Rain splattering his clothes and into his face, he readied his machete as Peino kept his sword and dagger trained on his assailants. Sticking the miniature crossbow to the small of the woman’s back, and bringing his machete against her throat, he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…”