The crew got him back to their ship, The Iron Key, where Tom, Michael’s 2nd mate, & his godfather washed and bound his wound. Luckily, Jackson had thrust his sword through Michael’s bad leg, hoping he would fall, but he didn’t. Instead, Michael had ended the fight. Michael exited his cabin after 5 days, limping like normal, but the glimmers of pain that crossed his face indicated he wasn’t healed. Yet he insisted on climbing the rigging, and climbing into the crow’s nest, worried that Jackson might come back. Only after both Jax and Tom assured him that the trunk was being guarded with many booby traps, He finally rested. Finally, the wound healed, and the only evidence that indicated anything was different than before was another scar on Michael’s knee, and he limped a little more profoundly. When Tom said Michael was healed, Michael finally went ashore. (Tom forbade him to go before.) That day, they emptied the trunk, and sailed toward Barbados. They made port, after taking their flag down so the Iron Key wouldn’t be recognized easily. Then, Michael & the Robin Hoods went ashore for a night out. They ate at a nice restaurant, and the crew left for drinks& some fun at the Pub. Michael took a walk to work some stiffness and remaining soreness from his bad leg. He heard laughter and crying coming from an alleyway nearby. He investigated. Three men were torturing a teen, laughing at his cries, his begs for them to stop, and how he twisted, trying to get away. "Enough." All four in the alley turned to see who owned that authoritative voice. All they saw a silhouette that stood with one leg straight, and the other stretched slightly away from him. the other thing that drew their attention was the twin saber hilts rising above each shoulder. It's time to stop." the quiet, yet authoritative voice came again. "make us." one of them sneered. In one fluid motion, the silhouette unsheathed his sabers, and the moonlight shone on not steel, but pure crystal. the one who sneered unsheathed his sword with a steely rasp. "I'll break his swords with the first swing." he boasted. if the stranger's face had been seen, they would have seen a smile curl his lips. The man came forward, and watched as his opponent's blades come up to cross in front of him. He trust his sword forward, low, but the stranger's blades flipped to block his sword. He whipped it away, and started a falling blade to the head.. the crossed blades flickered, and blocked it, then blocked a thrust to the chest, scissored, and smoothly went into both of his biceps, effectively making him drop his sword. the stranger leaned forward, revealing him to be a teenager, smiled slightly, and said "I advise you & your friends to leave the teen aloe in the future, or I will not miss your heart next time." the man nodded, pale. "the teen drew out his sabers. "Now scram! before I change my mind about letting you go!"

The man ran, and  his friends followed at his heels. the teen sheathed his sabers, which never got anything on them, and limped over to the teen still huddled against the wall. The terrified teen cowered away from the hand. this teen would hurt him way more than the men ever had, especially with those sabers. "My sabers are going to stay on my back unless I need them. now let me do what a man did for me 4 years ago. let me help you." the boy stared at him, than spat scornfully to the side. "lies." he growled. Michael waited silently, his hand still out, waiting patiently. The teen slowly uncurled, then asked quietly. "you swear to your grave you ain't gonna hurt me?" Michael nodded. "I solemnly swear to my grave and to my ship, the Iron Key, that I will not hurt you." "D-did you say the Iron Key?" the Teen stuttered out. "as in The Iron Key? captained by Michael Hartman, & his crew, the ruthless Robin Hoods? That  Iron Key?" Michael nodded. The teen continued. "I've heard terrifying and horrible stories abut their Captain. They say Captain Michael is 6ft. tall, has one leg and one eye, a big, horrible scar across his whole face, and is very broad and very strong. and, he had a Terrible Temper. Michael laughed. "all of those are rumors, Kid. what's your name?" "Rye." the kid said quietly. "well, Rye. you got a last name floating around in there?" "Rice. Rye Rice." "alright, Rye Rice. Name's Michael." Rye immediately stiffened, and eyes him warily. "what's your last name?" "Hartman." the kid tried to scramble away, but Michael was quicker. He grabbed the Kid's wrists, and pinned them, and they struggled together for a few minutes, until e Michael grunted out "wait." and pinned Rye with his hands locked around his wrists, and a knee in his chest. Rye stilled, breathing hard. "let me ask you some questions. just answer them honestly." Rye hesitated, then nodded. "Michael slowly let him go, slowly sitting back in his his original position, his knees drawn up slightly. "Am I 6ft. tall?" He asked. Rye shook his head. "do I have one leg and one eye?" Rye looked pointedly at Michael's bad leg. Michael pulled up his pant leg to his knee, where the 2 scars were; the 1st one that busted his knee, and the 2nd one, newly healed from where Jackson had thrust his sword through. "It's real. just busted." Michael assured him. "So, No." Rye said. "do I have a horrible scar across my whole face?" Rye studied his face. there were scars and nicks, but not a big, ugly one, stretching across his whole face. "No." "am I very broad and very strong?" "you look like a regular teen, but I can tell you have a good amount of muscle where it's needed." Michael nodded. "I'm 17, actually. and lastly, do I have a terrible temper?" Rye shrugged. "judging from the fight, no, you don't." Michael grinned. "I like to think I don't. my men don't complain." "D-do your men have to wear uniforms?" Rye stammered. Michael shook his head. "All they have to get to be a Robin Hood is a certain intricate tattoo and a leather band and cord with RH burned into it. But there's only one person who can give the tattoo, and one person that can provide the bracelet, and they're both on the Iron Key." "how old do you have to be to join?" "16." Michael sized up Rye. "why?" a grin appeared. "you wanna join?" Rye nodded.

"Any particular reason?" Rye shrugged. "To get away, start a new life, a new journey, to have the honor to serve on The Iron Key." Michael was nodding slowly. "You have any family?" Rye shook his head. "Only a dog." "What kind?" "I dunno. He's a mutt, I guess." Michael asked "Do you think he's seaworthy?" "He likes the water whenever we go down to the waterfront." Michael nodded, then got up and held down a hand to Rye, and helped him up. Rye stood up, hopped once, & Michael raised an eyebrow; The one that had a silver ring in it. Rye pretended not to notice. Michael stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "You’re lame?" Rye looked down. "I'm just as good as another man." He muttered. "I'm not gonna kick you off the Iron Key because you're lame. If I did that, I wouldn't be on a ship. I have a limp." "Rye finally nodded.”Yeah, I am. Left leg." Michael nodded. "Let’s go get your dog." Rye started off, limping but moving quite fast. Michael followed him over fences, through alleyways, & finally Rye stopped at a house. "Wait here." Michael nodded in silence. Rye limped up the stairs, and slipped in the door. Michael heard loud, slightly drunken sounding voices, some barking, and some thumps. Then, when Rye didn't come out and the angry voices continued, Michael decided to investigate. He threw open the door, and the scene before him shocked him. Rye, tied to the banister with his back bare, a growling golden dog muzzled & restrained, and a strong man uncoiling a whip. "Enough." That one word in that quiet authoritative voice silenced the house like magic. Rye seemed to be trying to disappear. The strong man turned, and He snarled "Get out, Stranger. This doesn't concern you." "Actually, it does. This boy's part of my crew, therefore, he's under my protection" The man snorted, "He's under your protection, eh? Part of your crew? What crew is that? The Powder Puffs?" "No. It's the Robin Hoods." The man froze in the act of turning back to Rye. "What’s your name, Stranger?" The strong man breathed, his voice tinged with fear. "Michael." "Your Last name." "Hartman." Was the quiet answer. The man hurriedly cut Rye loose, and Rye slipped on his shirt, and slung a black duffel bag over his shoulder, so its strap lay across his chest. The golden dog was shoved toward them, and he trotted to Rye, and leaned against him. "Get out of our house, Devil-Spawn!" The man was yelling at them, from all the way across the room. "And take your Hellion with you!" Rye nodded without looking up. There was a pair of dog tags that hung around his neck now. He still didn't look up, choosing instead to look at the golden dog who was seated at his feet, looking up at him with adoration from the fingers gently playing with his fur. Michael nudged Rye, who looked at him, straight into his eyes, and Michael jerked his head toward the door. Rye relaxed slightly, and took hold of the dog's wide collar. And with a murmured "C'mon, Bud." They turned and went out the door, not looking back as Michael slowly drew both of his sabers.

Rye waited, sitting on the concrete stairs at the front of the house, scratching the golden dog's ears. At the sound of a door opening. He turned to look, but turned back around when he saw it was Michael. Without a word, Michael sat down next to Rye & stared into the night with him. After a minute's silence, Michael quietly asked "What's his name?" When Rye didn't answer, Michael elaborated. "Your dog." "Bud." Was the murmured reply. Michael turned to Rye. You spoke louder before. What happened?" Rye sighed, staring into the night for a little longer. Then, he spoke. "It always happens when they catch me. Just give it a few minutes, and I'll be speaking at a normal volume. Also, I'm kinda embarrassed. You had to come save me. Again...You must think I'm useless, defenseless." Michael shook his head. "If I ever thought that, which I don't, I have living proof that that is false. I had a young man come to me a few years back, when I was 15, and just starting the Robin Hoods. I had saved him from a mugger an hour earlier, but I had my busted knee then, and he was able to track me down and learn my name in the process. He told me that he was useless, but he would like to pay me for my troubles, and he knew money wouldn't benefit me- and he was right. So he offered service aboard the Iron Key. He's now 20, & is the best weapons master I could ever hope to have. So, you're not gonna be useless, and we'll teach you to defend yourself. Maybe, I'll even train you in the art of fighting with twin sabers." Rye's head shot up. Michael's skill and speed with his unmistakable twin crystal blades was Legendary. Michael saying that He might train someone to fight with twin sabers was unheard of. Michael Hartman was just that good. He was a master. "W-what?" Rye stammered. Michael smiled, but didn't repeat it. He stood up. "C'mon, Rye. Time to become a Robin Hood."Rye pushed himself up, slung the Duffel bag over his shoulder again, and said in a louder voice "C'mon, Bud." Bud stood up, and trotted contentedly beside Rye. He hesitated at the gangplank but followed Michael up & froze at the all the swords directed at him. He slowly put his hands up next to his head, communicating surrender. Michael spoke softly. "So that is what you will do when confronted and defenseless?" Rye lowered his hands, the duffel bag sliding off his thin body. Anther crew member moved it away. "No." Suddenly, quick as lightning, he dropped and rolled, then spun into a kick from there, knocking Cap down, making him drop his sword. Rye swept it up, and rolled back to standing, sword held easily in his hands. He whistled; quick and low, & Bud lost the easy, free, happy manner that Michael had thought was there all the time, & bared his teeth, and started growling, his hackles starting to rise to sharp points. "This is what I would do." Then, He and Bud seemed to blur, and Michael felt the tip of a sword on the back of his neck. "Nice." He said, not moving, hands still in his pockets. Then, Michael crouched and spun, and his sabers flashed into his hands. This time Rye's eyes showed no fear at the blades. As Michael straightened, he used one to block Bud, and the other to block Rye's blade that had started falling towards his head. Michael pushed them off, and readied himself for a fight that would challenge him, and he reveled in the idea. A real challenge! Rye whistled, a different one, and Bud separated from him, and started circling to Michael's right, trying to get behind him. Michael let one saber break away from facing Rye and follow him, and let one eye follow Bud's action. He blocked Rye's thrust to the chest, and Bud lunged at the same time their swords clashed. Again, quick as lightning, Michael slid to the side, and Bud landed on Rye, knocking him to the ground and the sword from his hand. Bud, realizing his master, quickly switched from seasoned fighter to ecstatic puppy, licking his master's face, ignoring his attempts to push him off. Finally, chuckling, Rye sat up, causing Bud to slide off him. He looked up at Michael, grinning. That grin faded as soon as his eyes met Michael's. His eyes flashed down again. Michael mentally groaned. Almost. Rye almost looked at him for more than a full second. "I hope you know you can trust me. I won't hurt you. You’re almost part of the Robin Hoods, and you've proved yourself worthy. You’re not as defenseless as you'd like yourself, and others, to think." Rye flicked his gaze up, then back down, and nodded. "And you can look at me for more than a full second and fully expect me not to turn into a monster." Michael added, grinning.