John wick in one piece

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The shipyard bustled with activity as Declan's crew unloaded the first shipment of materials for the new ship. Michael stood at the edge of the yard, watching as beams of dark wood and crates of iron fittings were hauled toward a large construction frame. The beginnings of the vessel were starting to take shape, and even in its skeletal form, Michael could see the potential.

"It's really happening," Lia said from beside him, her voice a mix of awe and excitement.

"It is," Michael replied. "But it's just the start. There's still a long way to go."

Declan approached, wiping sweat from his brow. "You weren't kidding about getting the funds fast. This will keep us busy for a while."

"How long do you think until we see real progress?" Michael asked.

"A few weeks, if everything goes smoothly," Declan said. "But that depends on weather, supplies, and keeping the wrong people off our backs."

Michael nodded. "I'll handle the last part."

Declan chuckled. "Good. I'd rather not have to rebuild this place after another fight."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Michael and Lia returned to their sloop. They spent the evening sorting through their remaining supplies and preparing for another bounty. With the ship under construction, their focus now shifted to protecting the materials and ensuring they could fund the next stages of the build.

Later that night, Michael sat on the deck, staring out at the dark sea. The gentle rocking of the sloop and the sound of the waves usually brought him a sense of calm, but tonight his thoughts were restless. He had a shipwright he trusted, a plan in motion, and enough money to keep things moving for now. But the future was far from certain.

"You're thinking again," Lia said, breaking the silence. She climbed up from below deck, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

Michael glanced at her. "Can't afford not to."

"You always say that," Lia said, sitting beside him. "But it's okay to relax sometimes, you know."

Michael smirked faintly. "I'll relax when we're on the Grand Line, sailing something that won't fall apart in a storm."

"We're getting there," Lia said. "You've made it this far. That's something."

Michael didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to Lia, who opened it curiously.

"What's this?" she asked.

"The design for the new ship," Michael said. "Something I came up with."

Lia studied the drawing, her eyes widening as she took in the sleek lines of the hull, the towering masts, and the sharp, imposing shape of the vessel. "It's amazing. It looks… fast. Strong."

"It will be," Michael said. "If we can finish it."

Lia carefully folded the parchment and handed it back to him. "We will. I know we will."

Michael gave her a small smile. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be busy."

Lia hesitated but nodded, disappearing below deck. Michael remained on the deck, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The night was quiet, but he couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was brewing. He had made enemies during his bounty hunts, and the materials in Declan's yard were a tempting target for anyone looking to cause trouble.

The thought barely had time to settle before a faint sound caught his attention. It was distant but distinct—the low hum of a ship cutting through the water. Michael stood, scanning the horizon. A shadow moved against the starlit sea, growing larger as it approached.

A ship.

Michael moved quickly, slipping below deck to grab his weapons. He shook Lia awake, keeping his voice low. "Lia, stay here. Don't come out unless I say. We've got company."

Lia sat up, her eyes wide with alarm. "What's happening?"

"I don't know yet," Michael said. "But I'll handle it."

He returned to the deck, revolver in hand, as the ship drew closer. It was a small vessel, its sails tattered and its hull battered, but it moved with purpose. Michael's grip on his weapon tightened as the ship came alongside the sloop. Figures emerged from the shadows—rough-looking men armed with swords and clubs.

"You're the one causing all the trouble," the leader of the group said, stepping onto Michael's deck. He was tall and wiry, with a patch over one eye and a cruel grin. "The one who's been picking off bounties and making a name for himself."

Michael didn't respond, his gaze steady as he assessed the situation. Four men. Armed, but not well-coordinated. He'd faced worse.

"We heard you've got a ship under construction," the leader continued. "Must mean you've got money. Hand it over, and we'll let you walk away."

Michael shook his head. "You've got the wrong man."

The leader laughed, his grin widening. "Oh, I don't think so. Take him."

The first man rushed at Michael, swinging a club, but Michael sidestepped easily, using the momentum to shove him into the railing. A second attacker followed, his sword slashing through the air. Michael blocked the strike with his forearm, driving his elbow into the man's chest and sending him stumbling back.

The leader growled, drawing a blade of his own. "You're making this harder than it needs to be."

"You should've stayed home," Michael said, his voice calm but sharp.

The leader lunged, his strikes faster and more precise than his men's. Michael dodged, countering with quick, deliberate movements. He ducked low, sweeping the man's legs out from under him and pinning him to the deck.

"Leave," Michael said, his tone cold. "Now."

The leader glared up at him, his defiance fading as he realized he was outmatched. "Fine. We're leaving."

He motioned to his crew, and they retreated to their ship, muttering curses under their breath. Michael stood at the railing, watching as the ship disappeared into the night.

When he was sure they were gone, he returned below deck. Lia was waiting, her eyes wide with concern. "What happened?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Michael said, sitting heavily on a crate. "They won't be back."

Lia frowned. "You always say that."

"And I'm always right," Michael said, a faint smirk on his face. "Get some rest. We've got work to do tomorrow."

As the sloop rocked gently in the waves, Michael allowed himself a brief moment of relief. The night had been long, but they were one step closer to their goal. With each challenge they faced, they grew stronger—and Michael knew that when the time came, they would be ready.

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