"How the hell do you expect to pull this off? And what the hell is that thing?" Ram hissed, his eyes flickering between the nearby pirate ship and the odd silver orb in Oliver's hands.

Their approach had been simple up to a point; having circled to the opposite side of the island before crossing over it using the Scrambler, with the pirates none the wiser... but things would likely be a bit more complicated moving forward.

Laying flat at the edge of the cliff among a patch of leafy ferns, Oliver looked over the side and down at the gently lapping waves of the cove. Easily fifty feet high where they were, the cliff sloped gently down towards the distant black sand of the beach. Anchored in the middle of the cove, its prow facing the narrow entry, was their first target- The Darkness, according to the name painted on the side. A bit cliché to Oliver's thinking, considering they were Devil pirates.

Not that they would likely welcome his criticism.

"This is my Tactical Personal Drone." Oliver said calmly as the object in question lifted from his hand. It's silver surface shimmered for a second as it faded from sight, and his gaze shifted down to the phone in his hand. "I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but I'm using it to scout their ship. And, once I have a clear picture of what I'm dealing with... I'll go deal with it."

Oliver grimaced at how terrible that sounded, but shrugged it off. "Feel free to watch, but I've got to work quick. I'm a little limited in how long I can use this..."

"I'm really wishing I had thought to bring a generator or something..." He muttered softly, ignoring Ram's eyes widen at the image on the small screen, or his gaze darting back and forth from it to the pirate ship...

"I would call this crazy and impossible..." Ram sighed, shaking his head. "If you hadn't already shown me crazy and impossible a dozen times already."

With the pirates focusing their attention outside the cove, Oliver slid down the rope and into the water with barely a splash. Cooler than he expected, the inky waters set some primal part of his psyche on edge- anything could be in the water with him, just feet away, and he would never know... And, for a moment, he could understand the many superstitions and fears held by sailors of the past...

Pushing all of that away, he ignored Ram pulling the rope up- there was no point leaving it there, in case one of the pirates happened to be smart enough to actually check behind them from time to time- and oriented himself on the ship before diving beneath the surface.

Blinded by the blackness surrounding him, Oliver could only guess at how far he swam. Estimating he was close, he rose carefully to the surface...

When his head bumped into something hard, panic surged through him briefly...

Until the slick texture of wet wood registered.

Trailing one hand along the hull of the ship, Oliver forced himself to breathe as quietly as possible, his eyes sweeping the ship above him as he waited for an alarm to be raised from him being spotted. Seconds passed with no shouts of alarm, and a small feral grin stretched across his face.

Treading water, he raised one hand above the surface... and pulled Henrietta out of the Warehouse.

"You remember the plan, right?" He whispered to the squirrel, receiving a silent nod in response. "Ok. Head up and keep an eye out for me while I climb... And yes, I know I climb slow..."

Henrietta's eyes shone with amusement as she turned away from him. Tiny claws dug into the wood planks of the ship, and she practically flew up the side- only slowing as she reached the first gun port. Easing up to the opening with her tail lashing back and forth in excitement, her tiny head peaked up for just a second and she turned back to chirp at him once before scurrying inside.

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"Guess it's clear for the moment." Oliver muttered, invoking his Aspect of the Familiar. In a blink, his ears had shifted to the top of his head and morphed into pink-furred points like Henrietta's, only larger. His nails extended into wicked looking- though bright pink- claws... And, for a brief moment, a long furry tail rose above the black water of the cove...

Then Lita, his living armor, surged out, flowing over the new and changed appendages and covering it completely with her oily black form- leaving only the tips of the claws exposed to not hinder his climb.

Digging his claws into the wood of the hull, Oliver began his ascent. While it was certainly easier than the rock he climbed in the Koman's base, the dark wood they used for the ship was thick and sturdy... and slick from the ocean's spray. Between that and the need for stealth, his climb was less than half the speed of Henrietta's.

Reaching the open gun port, Oliver froze in place at the small squeak that just barely reached his ears- a warning from his familiar. Clinging to the side of the ship, he held his breath as he waited.

"You hear that? Shit. Rats again... One of us needs to tell the Captain before the little bastards ruin half our food-"

"Not me! You know how that bastard gets when anything goes wrong, and I aim to be alive for this big payday."

"And I don't wanna starve or eat rat shit... How about we have Afi go tell him? That idiot doesn't know any better yet..."

Oliver listened as the pair of gravelly voices conversed in the Devil tongue before they faded away- likely heading up to the deck, if he had to guess based off the direction they were moving. Just a second after the voices grew distant, he came eye to eye with Henrietta as her head popped back out of the port and she chirped at him.

"Good job, girl. The way down is clear?"

Henrietta chirped again and darted away, which he took to mean 'Yes', and he pulled himself up to follow. Squeezing himself into the small opening, Oliver was forced to twist and contort himself to slip past the heavy cannon... and nearly wanted to slap himself as, with a thought, the cannon vanished into the warehouse.

"That could sell well... too bad I don't have space for more of them." He muttered softly as he gained his feet- only to quickly shake his head and replace the cannon. "Can't have them notice you gone before I'm done... But on the way out..."

Oliver's eyes scanned the gun deck as the ears and tail of his Aspect disappeared- not that he didn't trust Henrietta, but it was better to be sure the flighty squirrel didn't miss anything. He ignored the rows of cannons, some looking a bit worse for wear- though he wasn't an expert on them, his time on the Isadora was enough hat he could tell these guns hadn't been maintained nearly as well...

To his left- and the the rear, or aft, of the ship- he could see a set of stairs leading up... which he also ignored, and turned away from, to head towards the fore of the ship...

He knew from scouting with his Drone that the way down to the hold was there... and so were some of the crew quarters, though they were further past the stairs he was aiming for- though that also made this the riskiest part of what he was doing.

Even with his familiar laser focused on watching the crew quarters for problems, tension rose in Oliver's shoulders as he crept closer and closer... until he quickly slid down the stairs, Henrietta leaping onto his shoulder to catch a ride down.

Seeing that the hold where the ship stored most of its supplies was empty- of people, at least- he turned his gaze to his target: the ship's magazine and all their spare powder.

"The hard part, at least for others, would be how to set it all off without blowing themselves up." He muttered softly to his squirrel companion as he neared what should have been the most secure place on the ship- though, with the pirates not expecting to fight for hours and all their preparations already done under the watchful eye of his Drone, none of them were around at the moment. His eyes swept across the rows and stacks of wooden kegs, and a grin flashed across his face. "That shouldn't be an issue for us. I think."

Propping open the hatch to the magazine, Oliver smiled at the rows and stacks of wooden kegs lining the room, each of which he knew was filled with block powder. "And, apparently, the pirates don't have a separate filling room." He chuckled, eyeing the cloth sacks lined up nearby, filled to the brim and waiting to be retrieved for use. Reaching inside carefully, he snagged several of them to store in the Warehouse for later- just in case.

Grabbing a couple nearby sacks of black powder, he set them in the open hatch before turning away from the now open powder magazine. Oliver reached into the Warehouse and pulled out something he hadn't expected to use on this Bounty: a one gallon jug of gasoline. Popping open the lid, he carefully dribbled a line of gasoline leading away from the magazine and back to the stairs.

"Yeah, I know it doesn't work like in the movies... But I'm not going to try to lob a Fireball straight into the magazine and out run the explosion; that's action movie shit, ok?" He muttered at what he perceived was a skeptical look from Henrietta. "All I really need is for the fire to get close to the powder, and the gas will help do that... I'm just going to use a Fireball to set the hold on fire..."

Storing the gas can away again, he cautiously climbed the stairs once more. Seeing that it was still clear, he hurried over to the nearest cannon and stored it as well- leaving himself a straight path out the gun port. Scurrying back tot he stairs, he made sure to put Henrietta away as well before taking a deep breath.

"Well, here goes nothing." He muttered with a manic grin, an orb of fire swelling in his palm. "Fire in the hole!"

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