Mission #15: All In

Marcus sighed as he rested upon an upturned barrel, lazily lounging against the ship's rails, occasionally checking compass and astrolabe to ensure that they were still on the correct path to Pecos Island. They were. Shaking his head, he narrowed his eyes and tried to see as far as he could, to divine how much longer they had to stay upon this boat. It was nice that he didn't have to brave the Blue with nothing but a glorified paddle boat to his name, but he almost missed the excitement that went with defying nature with not a weapon to his name. Then he remembered the hellish storm that propelled him all the way to Raito Island and shivered. Maybe a big boat wasn't so bad, after all. "Crows take me, I will eat a Devil Fruit and spare the storm the trouble of killing me before venturing out like that again."

Marcus casually projected that aura of cool detachment that he had become famous for on the boat. At the beginning of the trip, the mercenaries hired to protect the treasure had fought over who would be the leader. Marcus had put his name in the hat, for the sake of efficiency, and was all but laughed out of the crew. That didn't last long. To prove his point, Marcus bested the biggest man there, easily using his superior range against the man by dancing in close. After that, Marcus had become respected for his natural leadership qualities, as well as for an almost depressing callousness as to where exactly he struck with his blade. This had made Mirra his de facto second, though she wasn't doing much in the way of leading. She was mostly occupied in attempting to wear a furrow in the planks of the ship with her pacing. It had been an entirely boring trip, and Marcus couldn't blame her.

"Miss Black, why don't you take a seat?" He nodded at the empty wine barrel next to him. "We're going to reach Pecos Town, collect the flat rate for our 'work,' and we'll be on our merry way with cash in our pockets, earned by the incredibly laborious job of staring at Beri all day long." Marcus frowned as a memory came unbidden to the front of his mind. He had caught a couple of mercenaries trying to stuff their pockets full of Miss Berta's rightful fortune. That had not ended well for them. Glancing up, Marcus could still see the nooses from which he had hung them upside down by their ankles- a morbid reminder to all those who would think to follow in their companions' folly. It was not very painful nor life threatening, but for men- and women, Marcus reminded himself as he glanced at the mercenary 'Kristina'- whose livelihood depended on general toughness, the punishment was rather humiliating.

A sailor approached Marcus and whispered in his ear. Marcus brightened up considerably as the man scurried back into the rat's nest. "Ah, Miss Black, good news! Land has just been sighted. Looks like we'll make landfall within the hour." Marcus stood and delivered the information in an impromptu speech, receiving much in the way of cheers. "Just try not to get too drunk celebrating easy money." He finished. Calico Jack, the biggest of the group, grinned. "What's too much drink? I only know chugging and passing out!" This was met by general laughter. Even Marcus allowed himself a smile. As the group dispersed, Marcus turned back to Mirra. "So, have any plans how to spend your share, Miss Black?"

“C’mon, kid, you ain’t gonna kill anybody if you keep up like that.”

Leroy tightly set his jaw, attempting to not seem as aggravated as he was. Being mad will only make you rash the words echoed in his head in the same contemptuous tone the Chameleon enjoyed to chastise him with. Resentment drove him back to his feet. Leroy stared sullenly up at Jack, their glances lingered for a second until the older man simply beamed, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Well, what the hell you waitin’ for?” There was not a hint of anger in his voice. Somehow Jack could never get upset about anything, which only served to fuel Leroy’s fire. The boy ran at Jack as a wild beast would, Jack kicked out to send him flying back for the seventh time but his sparring mate was expecting this, Leroy slid onto the ground and carried forth by his momentum swiped Jack’s legs out from under him. Both hopped back up as quickly as they had fallen and faced each other once again to continue the brawl.

What Leroy guessed to be thirty minutes elapsed before both stood at a mutual standstill, panting as they examined the other intently. It was then that they noticed an older gentleman sitting respectably on a barrel as he watched the session come to an end. Incognito looked like a typical older man, slicked back salt and pepper hair with a slim figure often garnished in a suit. His eyes were strange though, deep purple with a knowing look to them.

Leroy turned to his boss, wiping sweat from his eyes, “How long have you been there?” He questioned.

“Long enough.” Was his reply before standing up and beckoning for him to follow. Jack nodded and grinned as if he knew something he didn’t. Curiously his secondary followed beside him.

In silence the two bounty hunters wound through the tunnels of the underground complex. The only sound made between the two was the dull thud as their feet hit the ground. Only a few months ago Leroy would have been confused and lost in the midst of the dimly lit maze that was Morieris’s base, while in the present he could probably find his way just about anywhere without stumbling upon a completely different passageway. This path was a particularly familiar one though; it was the route the Chameleon had taken him down when he first joined four months ago, though rather than the snide woman leading him to Incognito’s room it was the person who actually resided in said room. This new recruit hadn’t seen the bureau since, no one seemed in any hurry to give him an task of relative importance, since Leroy was being led there he could only assume that someone had found some sort of assignment for him.Or they plan to execute me for something Leroy could bring to mind a few people who had been called to the room and been dragged to the basement not long after, and everyone knew the basement held the organization’s cells, where those who emerged were put to death. He soon disregarded this notion, the worst thing he had done was instigate a few hot-heads and get into a few squabbles.

Before long a pair of wide iron doors loomed before them, it’s ornament carvings creating the illusion of movement with the shadows of the flickering torches. A groan resonated through the silent hall as Incognito pushed the door open. Beyond it lay a dusky room that seemed cold even with a hearth burning. Incognito took a seat by his desk.

“Sit,” Were the first words spoken between them since entering, Leroy sat at one of the two chairs opposite of him.

“So, what do you want me here for?” Leroy questioned, Incognito smirked wickedly, “To make a profit.” He answered furtively. Before he could question this plot further Incognito slipped the West Blue Times across the table. The paper was flipped to an article titled in a bold font ”Granny Bertha Wins West Blue Jackpot”. Skimming over the writing, containing the old woman’s reaction to her newfound fortune and details of the shipment, Leroy soon found himself thinking want his boss must’ve, setting the daily newspaper back down Leroy spoke up, “This would be an easy target. You sure it’s fair for a group of killers and thieves to prey on an old woman?” A rhetorical question, but Incognito liked to hear himself talk nevertheless. “Oh, sure she’ll be disappointed but we aren’t going to harm her beyond that. She’s the least of our problems. There’ll be guards stationed around the ship that will be of more concern. And of course there are Pecos’s gunslingers. Surely you can handle that though.” Incognito folded the paper back into his drawer and crossed his hands over his lap. “Board the Wave Rider tomorrow at noon, and be careful not to piss off the captain, he’s a short fused man, that one.” Leroy humphed, “I won’t mind him if he doesn’t mind me.”



A loud ringing woke Leroy from his slumber. Sitting upright in his hammock the drowsy boy glanced about the cabin, the five other men who shared the room with him were also in the process of awakening, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they gazed about abstractedly. It took the shout of “We’re landing!” for Leroy to drag himself up to the deck. Men shouted at each other as the merchant ship pulled into the harbor, though the loudest of them was the captain, Mason Johnson, a stout man with a coarse beard of dark brown hair. After the Wave Rider had docked he approached Leroy “We’ll be getting’ rid of you this stop, aye?” even if the answer had been “no” the man probably would have rid himself of the boy anyway. Despite his boss’s warnings Leroy had gotten into a few shouting contests with the man, and been threatened with being thrown off the boat a few dozen times by his count. “Of course, Captain Johnson.” he mocked. Mason’s face turned the color of a tomato ready to burst as Leroy strode down the ramp that had been lowered to the dock.

It seemed as if stealing old Bertha’s fortune wasn’t an invention that belonged solely to Incognito’s mind. Leroy had little trouble picking the thugs out from the crowd, their noisy chatter was disruptive enough to make themselves known. With a few muttered quips about the thieves the young mercenary slipped into town. Surely the prize wouldn’t arrive for awhile, and at the moment his stomach was grumbling.

Marcus grinned as he stretched his limbs, shimmying up the rigging to get a better sight of Pecos Island. "Land ho~!" Marcus called out, stretching the words as to be heard over the moaning of the wind. With his superior eyesight, he saw the men on the pier, some not even attempting to hide their weapons. "Well, at least they had the decency to show up. Better late then never, I suppose." "Ladies and gentlemen! We are ten minutes from the pier. Expect heavy resistance. You've had an easy trip up until now, so earn that paycheck, and let's get ourselves a nice little bonus, shall we?" The crew roared in agreement, and began to arm themselves.

Marcus took the chance to effortlessly hoist himself up to the crow's nest, his stone-like sinews tirelessly hoisting his light body up the interwoven ropes. Finally he saw Mirra, as ready as any mercenary down below. "Miss Black! A moment, if you please." Marcus gave her a kindly grin as she spun around, too focused on the land before them to notice Marcus sneaking up behind her. "Forgive me. But I suggest you conserve as many arrows as possible, and only use Luna. I have a feeling those on the shore are only sideshows to the main event. However, the choice is yours, as always." Marcus hated telling his companions how to do their jobs, just as he imagined he would internally boil should someone attempt to correct him in fencing. Mirra knew archery far better than Marcus ever would, and might have even arrived to the same conclusion. His piece said, Marcus nodded and scurried down the roping, far more agile upon it than a man in a suit had any right to be. He remained a few feet above the ground, to obtain a better vantage point.

The crew arrived at the island, and the vulturous opportunists pushed each other off the docks for their chance at the boat. Marcus sighed. Was there no end to greed? Marcus turned to Kristina, the gunwoman. "Miss Arca?" He called. The woman, strapped down with every gun from revolver to rifle, nodded. "Yes, boss? What is it?" The woman was born and raised here in Pecos Town, and Marcus knew he would be counting on her innate knowledge of the city, as well as for help from the locals. Might as well get used to it, then. "If you would be so kind, fire a warning shot for these barbarians." Nodding, she picked out a large caliber rifle and aimed skyward, firing once. The sound scattered some of the heathens, but still others remained. "[color=[purple]That's the beauty of a bullet,[/color]" Marcus mused. "You can't retrieve your ammunition, but it is a wonderful instrument of sheer intimidation.[/i]" "Throw down the plank. Time to show these cowards what true warriors look like."

Marcus hopped down from the rigging, drawing his blade as he approached port side. The crew laid down the plank, and immediately Marcus stood before it, menacing the would be thieves with a royal stare passed down for twenty generations. "Well?" Marcus demanded. "Either attack or leave my sight. I do not have all day for such trivial matters as this." The renegades were clearly confused. They had expected a crew of thick headed, heavy fisted mercenaries. Not in their wildest dreams could they have expected a tongue lashing from such a refined courtier. However, in the face of difficulty, the bandits rallied magnificently. "Get outta the way, ya fancy queer! That's gonna be my treasure, soon![/color]" Marcus sighed, running his right hand through his hair- a sure sign of his displeasure. "So be it. To arms!" He called, even as the first sprinted up the plank. His throat was cut, and his body ruthlessly kicked away to dye the water below. Here, in a situation that forced a one on one confrontation with no room to move, Marcus was king. "Gunners! Prepare a volley. Aim for opposing marksmen. Blades! Be prepared to switch out when I call, and clean up the trash that I miss." The fight for Granny Berta's beri was on.

Leroy had a knack for ending up in grimy and vile places, and the Boar’s Head was one of them. A dim little room that called itself a restaurant, but the owner’s dream was shattered, now it was more or less just another place for sailors and smugglers alike to drink themselves blind and get some pleasure from the waitresses. Inside the Boar a thick veil of smoke was produced by the patron’s cigars and the scented beeswax candles placed on the rickety wooden tables in an effort to hide the scent of the former, if anything the perfume made the place smell more vile. The wall’s former color was indistinguishable under the crude yellow stains created from years of exposure to tar. A few picaresque individuals were leaning against the wall a wall that was spotted with someone’s upchucked meal, laughing at their own satire.

A promiscuous woman strutted over to Leroy’s table. Her waitress outfit was explicit with a low-cut shirt and miniskirt. Upon seeing him the fleshy harlot pursed her lips curtly, “You should go run home, kid, the Boar isn’t a place for the lots of you.” Leroy gave her half of a feral grin. “Sorry you can’t fuck me, ma’am, I just need some food.” His tone was mockingly courteous, sparking a nasty look from the woman. “Where’s your mother? She ought to clean your mouth and give you a good whipping for that.”

“Working. I bet she gets more ‘clients’ than you, by the time she had me she was wide enough to birth you.” There was a look of repugnance on her face the whole time this youth told his grotesque lie. The two looked at one another for a few moments in silence before Leroy ordered his meal in his most sarcastic voice. With the woman gone he had nothing better to do than listen to the idle chatter of drunken sailors. And drunken sailors made for quite a blabbermouthed company. Leroy heard about everything from tales of riches to the recent terrors of the seas. None of that concerned his current mission right now though, one piece of conversation, however, did. It came from two grizzly natives of Pecos.

“…I gotta say I’m worried about old Bertha. That woman’s gonna have hell if those damnable savages get their way.”

“Eh, we got about a few dozen boys ready to take down some thieves if worse comes to worse.”

“If I’m not mistaken then that’s about two to one from what I’ve seen on the docks, and those are only the stupid ones.”

“Aw hell, Walter, stop worryin’ so much and have a drink.”

“And you don’t worry enough, Buck.”

From there the conversation became irrelevant, that was all he needed to hear…And now his food had arrived.

Coming out of the gloomy bar Leroy blinked as his eyes accustomed to the sun’s radiance. Looking over the hill that the small eatery sat upon Pecos seemed an energized town at the moment. Brutes and ruffians weren’t the only sort congregating at the pier, in his time away a crowd of citizens had gathered and everyone seemed to be rather tense, the electricity in the air was almost tangible. The young gunslinger allowed his left hand to rest on Vengeance, settling around the six-shooter’s grip gingerly. In the distance white sails could be seen drawing nearer. That’d be the one. thought Leroy. Unlike most of the blundering crooks here the boy knew not to show himself so blatantly in the open. Appearing as unobtrusive as he could Leroy ambled toward the docks leisurely. He’d have to find somewhere to take cover as he took down guards from the shadows. There was no rush as he did this, he didn’t have to be the first person to attack Those idiots will attack whatever stands in their way and wear them down, if I’m lucky they’ll all kill each other. Leroy wasn’t ever that lucky.

Drawing closer to the docks the ship was near landing, a great crack cut all other noise, from where he was Leroy saw a few cravens scatter to the winds. A small group of pirates ran past him.

“But Captain! We could be rich, sir!”

“Being rich doesn’t mean a damn thing if you’re dead! Another day, for now RUN!”