The thing about warnings is they often come too late, don’t they? Falling from lips mere seconds before disaster strikes.

The last thing the pirate captain remembered was the shouting of his crew, the noise laced with the kind of worry that could only indicate trouble. Though Finnick barely even got to brush his fingers against the hilt of his sword before he felt pain burst across the right side of his head, and hands grabbing at his shirt. Then, he felt weightless. The blue sky appearing in his hazy vision, and the whistling of wind in his ears as he fell… getting one last blurry look at his ship, and the face of his attacker peeking over its railing, before icy water enveloped his body.

When Finnick next woke it was fraught with ringing ears, a splitting headache, and... a boot nudging his side like he was some sort of roadkill? With a groan the pirate captain forced his eyes open just enough to squint against the bright sun, the palm trees that dotted the shoreline not doing much to provide protection from its rays. He sat up gingerly, his hands slipping in the soft white sand under him, and his body protesting his motions. Finally, last in his steps of slow and dazed movements, he turned his head up to look at the person standing before him.

On any other day he would immediately draw his sword upon locking eyes with {{user}}, a rival pirate captain that he despised with a passion, but today he just rasped out “Who are you? No, wait... who am I…?” in a confused tone. His memory as blank as the void.