Real Folk Blues! Rise of the Western Rookies! [P1]

[Tori Tori Chopper]

'Well ain't this a blast from the past.'

Winchester, the more subtle taste of warfare that's consumed the world over the last couple of years. A little patch of land to the West that's arguably seen more combat than most can recollect for an island in the blues. The invisible line that strikes down the center of this populated place determines friends of justice and foes of regime instead of flags and masses of ships. While pirates and those preferable to freedom litter the lower shambled shanty-towns across one side, blue and white coats the eastern shore, holding up agaisnt a fort and wall for good measure. Its considered prime hunting ground for some, where others are placed here for either their skills, or the constant demand for new soldiers to occupy what land the World Government maintains while new men and women of rebellious intent flock to fight agaisnt agaisnt them.. Providing an impressive deep end for those learning to swim amongst the best of one or the other. Though others might even perceive it as the perfect place for an F.N.G to show their grit, in the most flamboyant way possible, and thus this is where it began. With a bang.

--------------------
'No better place than Winny when it comes to practice. Haha, that is unless you're fresh off the boat, in which case these guys might prove a little bother for yo- .. Coraline, Oioi.'

The freshly dressed blade maiden just stood there, having some sort of staring contest with her feet, cycling a constant flow of her quickly deteriorating cigarette that dangled from her mouth. Her face was barely visible from the recruit hat's peak pointed down along with the rest of her head, coated and white and blue as was all newcomers, her only unique gesture being the solid belt that circled her waist at an angle to hold her firearm and additional sword from her issued Sabre, which she currently used as an arm rest. Though the idle moment of being lost in thought awoke to a wide eyed scan of the open door ahead of her, masses of people dressed just like she was dispersing into the open cobble of the courtyard ahead of her, and the culprit of snapping her out of the haze leaning in close beside her to get in view. A bandanna spanning over one eye, his other revealed one doing enough to express his humble grin with his mouth, spinning the caps peak around and backwards before Coraline finally regained notable sense in her eyes. 'Hm? Mm..' She rubbed her eyes, and strode out ahead of her apparently lanky and jacket clad accomplice as if she knew exactly where she was going. Unbeknownst to her that the hand of the pin-striped marine guided her wobbly footing about the crowds of fresh meat.

'You know, its rather odd that a marine can't handle being on a boat.'
'I'm fine..'
'If you black out while standing, leaking smoke, which some might not consider-'
'Voorn.. Geez.'

'Haha, alright, alright..'

When you looked at the scene that slowly walked from the large marine vessels side and down its long walkway, you wouldn't be sure what to consider more abnormal.. At least the new marines who descended onto the island couldn't. There walked the strangest duo, talking in a casual fashion, a man of clear rank and nobility amongst the marines pleading mercy through tone and comedic hands up gestures to this much smaller, cold visioned woman who walked oddly close beside him. Most of these people had just passed basic training, their first stride within the marines, and to come this close to an obvious superior beyond the Captains and Ensigns who shouted them in different directions both as basic and even down this ramp? What kind of marine, this female marine no less, had authority of that calibre wrapped around their little finger. The assumptions were clear by the mumbles and even giggles, as the towering man twisted her head left and right with the frogger game of dodge the slower recruits. But the majority got her bright blue eyes fixated on them, which made them unsure of whether to be frightened or embarrassed at the attention. None the less it shut up the commotion fairly quickly.

'So you won't have duty for at least today, the draft takes an evening or two.'
The man known as Voorn gave a light salute past the otherwise cluttered line of newbies, guiding the apparently privileged Coraline around the chaos.

'This respect for you stops the moment I leave, they're just scared I'll go barking away the normality right now.'
She nodded, slowly coming to her senses by the looks of her eyes not looking like they were stuck open with sticky-tape.

'Other than that, I'm sure you'll be just fine. These guy's don't bite as hard as you, even the top brass of the fort.'
And with that they reached a towering building of white decal, sticking out from the forts barracks and training grounds in quite an odd fashion.

'I'll deal with business then..' He moved inside, stopping at the frame of the door to look down at her, Coraline adjusting her hat back to the front while she looked right on back with raised brows. 'I promised myself I wouldn't cry..' Her expression changed as quickly as his, but with much less sarcasm by comparison, scrunched while she spun on her heel and off towards the cluttered living quarters on the other side of the courtyard, giving a backwards wave to his predictable loose salute. Her eyes on the departure darted from landmark to landmark, the new crop otherwise littering the fortification of the island with this bodies and obstructing her view. Unlike most she had arrived with nothing else to her name but what was attached to her belt, and the clothes on her back. She had no luggage to drop off, no higher authority to report to since Voorn had handled the primary paperwork.. she had nothing but time to kill and an area to scope out. She was still getting those double takes and fake glance by's from others, even without her high-ranking bodyguard.. Was a female about the marines really that much of an odd thing? People at basic didn't seem to mind her presence, yet here she was some sort of hot topic within a certain radiance.

What had been a bother for her since she arrived, was the secondary blade which bounced back and forth from her side, the Sabre was not only weighted oddly, curved irregularly and not properly coated.. It just had this air about it, like it was constructed simply to fail agaisnt whatever it came up agaisnt, She had to test this theory of hers somehow, and how fitting that a make-shit proving ground had formulated nearby the training field. She didn't intend to partake in the strange ritual of proving ones worth in a circle constructed by other marine however, the straw figure which lay untouched and in masses beside that event however.. Was a perfect place to put this blade agaisnt the wind. She was able to at least able to test the momentum that followed the swing of a sheathed version of this Sabre in question.. But it seemed the infinity symbol she produced with her sword-play attracted the crowds glance, and in turn their beckoning's.

'Too good for us fodder, 'ey Samurai girl?!'
'Samurai Girl..?'
'Don't think skipping in with an officials going to get you any merits!'
'.. Skipping?'

She wasn't being goaded as easily as they first predicted, sweat drops spawning in mass as she was close to just going back to her own personal doings after the silence, a unison of noises and surprised grunting turning her head back with a disgruntled furrowed appearance about her. 'You lookin' to practice? what, not good enough to spar with us? Or are we not good enough to spar with the high and mighty Samurai.' The affiliation was probably due to her odd sword, a katana by obvious nature and shape which hung beside the sheath of her issued Sabre quietly and out of the way, in the sense that it wasn't mentioned nor had she touched it since they saw her that is. It wasn't annoying in that sense, but the unfortunate circumstance that it clung to a pet peeve of her's made that one lowered brow and one sided teeth bearing quite easy to produce. The face alone should've been enough, easily gesturing that they should drop it.. but obviously they weren't looking for this to be dropped, they wanted to kick her down a notch simply because they felt like it. 'Whats wrong? Not used to being talked to by common folk? Or are you just upset that the Samurai doesn't get instant ranking.'

Ugh...

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'Don't call me that.'[/center]

The reaction satisfied a speck of their thirst, the instigator clearing the pit of bodies and pulling it along by an invisible tether, the whole crowd instead circling her and this specific gentleman within the straw-dummy sector of the training ground. 'Why don't to make me, Sa-moo-RUH!' As the sword of the man lowered along with his well thought-out sequence, he was flipped and floored before he could even finish it, a knee pressed firmly agaisnt his cheek and his sword-hand twisted to the degree that his fingers were barely holding his threatening sword. As she looked from one point to another, to make sure no one was willing to back him up, the crowd in that stare took a step back.. It was enough to put her quick heartbeat back to a comfortable one, sliding her grip up to remove the mans sword and into her own while moving him aside on the ground. '... Ren's fine.' She lowered her hand, the man flinching only to find that she had jabbed his sword beside him, and it was just an helping gesture.

'Eheheh.. Ren.. Right..'
'Nice to meet you.'

'You too..' As he got back to his feet, pulling his blade out the ground, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact with the lingering awkward chuckle which soon matched the whole feel of the area.. the unaffected one now known as Ren gave a light cough which made everyone jolt in place. 'You mind giving me some space? I need to practice..' She circled the straw to her side with her Sabre, giving an unsure look towards the others while their mumbles and grumbles walked off with their quickly formed groups and power walkers. With that quick rise and fall of a scene being out the way, she slid into her stance, slowly bringing her sword back and forth from the Dummy in front of her like she was practising a golf swing, before letting out a sigh.

'Ugh, forgot what was I doing.. Freaking.'
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[Cirrus]

‘So this is the famed Winchester Island… funny, it doesn’t look anything much…’

Yannick had arrived with a pack of his possessions slung over his back and a frown on his face. He could see the clear dichotomy of the island; on the left side a derelict, ramshackle town with the same sloppy brown aura of a place doing just fine thank you very much, no need for anyone to help; on the right, some sort of citadel insofar as a once dazzling white wall surrounding what he presumed to be the World Government’s sponsored outpost, complete with little ramparts trying their hardest not to look pretentious, and various in and out doors lining it, almost hidden underneath the obnoxiousness of it all. It had been clear to see he was unimpressed. He’d just set off, bidding no one farewell or anything even approaching such an absurd level of courteousness; the moment he spotted a door letting people out, on a patrol presumably, he’d slipped in as his own little irreverent gesture to the rules – delegated doors may not have been arbitrary, there was no way he was going to argue for anarchy – to be honest it was just much easier than knocking on the door and going through the laborious social protocol of stating name rank and all that pomp and ceremony. The beanie hatted marine was fine with his grunts and scowls, as it turned out.

Once inside Yannick had unenthusiastically marvelled at the blinding boringness of it all before moving on. He quickly found what he was looking for, the marine quarters, and ended up going through all that needless rigmarole anyway. But he was in, he was registered on a suspiciously flammable binder…

The wind had picked up to a little more than negligible rate. He’d noted that the sky was surprisingly blue – an off shade of innocence, as if the world had forgotten about the abject distaste of the island’s existence and hadn’t made the effort to colour the sky accordingly. To be honest Yan had expected thunderclouds and brimstone-hued hypethral buildings, barren and broken, forsaken by all sentience; inhabited purely by the deadened husks of men slowly thudding their feet into the ground, pounding the Earth as some bathetic revenge; plodding in formation like pale chess pieces carved from shattered dreams and war. He er, he’d gotten a little over imaginative with the camp’s description, sure, but his was a mind that needed constant busying – besides, it wasn’t as if the brainbox wasn’t going to be disappointed when he arrived at Winchester Island: he’d decided that long before he embarked on his mildly boring journey to the western Blue.

He’d said nothing as he plodded up the dirt path to the training yard, where the secretary had subsequently directed him. Of course he instantly attracted the attention of the so-called hotshots of the place, but that’d proved inconsequential: a little mind game with the pair of them quickly turned them on each other and he’d slipped away the moment it seemed apt.

It was not a good thing to let overactive minds go idle.

Especially so if the constantly calculating conscious was a Roth’s child; Yannick had already mentally recorded the plans of the building, drab and grey in all its splendour and exactly seventeen rooms on its lower floor with one central corridor annexed to a temporally incongruous section – clear evidence of refurbishment, likely the consequence of an encounter with the hostile half of the island – three windows in need of repair and thus suitable exit holes should the need arise. The other floors were not particularly different to the ground level: this was the vision of a frankly uninspired architect, though this was not bad in of itself – this building was meant to serve a purpose and that purpose was to house soldiers, pawns, machines – people capable of effecting marine-certified decorum. It didn’t have to look pretty, it simply had to work.

‘If they sent us all here then there must be some sort of orientation process coming up soon… but nothing appears to be happening. How shitty. Sigh’ Yan had pulled the beanie over his eyes, hoisted his pack to the universal makeshift pillow height and, instead of drifting off to sleep, amused himself with the mental image of that registrations binder burning to cinders.

Some poor soul disturbed him.

'Too good for us fodder, 'ey Samurai girl?!'
'Samurai Girl..?'
'Don't think skipping in with an officials going to get you any merits!'
'.. Skipping?'
‘What the fuck…’

It would seem a clash of personalities had been forged in the full furnace of the training yard. Yannick pulled his hat back up and got to his feet, slinging his pack over his back just in case he had to scarper – er, assist? Yeah… that.

'You lookin' to practice? what, not good enough to spar with us? Or are we not good enough to spar with the high and mighty Samurai.'
‘If she’s a Samurai I wouldn’t pick fights you arse!’

Yan’s unvoiced, hissed advice somehow went unheeded as the ‘Samurai Girl’ demonstrated just why people gave people epithets: for a good freaking reason. In a display of impressive strength and flexibility the newcomer managed to slam her knee into the motormouth’s jaw, putting a dent in his pride before grabbing and incapacitating any attempt to retaliate by seizing his sword hand and wrenching it up to an obviously uncomfortable position – that was, being crushed and twisted in the hands of a stranger who’d managed to keep their cool while you were busy talking big. The negative nerd showed no outward surprise, in contrast to the wave of awe that swept the gathered crowd – though it would be a flat out untruth if he said (and he would definitely at some point say) he wasn’t impressed. Being at the forefront of the crowd it was easiest for him to see that the violence wasn’t going to continue any further: outstretched hands of truce deflated any hopes of a serious beatdown taking place. He made dismissive noise with his lips before striding forward towards the scene, sure of himself.

That is, sure of himself until she took a straight up swing at him!

Yannick threw himself to the side, the weapon thankfully missing his body but cutting into his stamina – he hadn’t been prepared to exert himself quite so suddenly! But he was prepared to chew her ear off!

“Oi! Watch it yeah? You could’a taken my fuckin’ head off!” He hissed stridently, obviously learning no lessons from the display which he himself had predicted. He wasn’t even confident about taking this girl on, hell, he wasn’t particularly confident about taking anyone on, if he was honest, but she’d stirred such an anger, albeit a shallow anger, within him that he just had to take a stand.

But he was nothing if he wasn’t cool – er, clever.

So instead of clashing, he’d assimilate: join forces; hide behind the metaphorical bully and sneer and shout curses at any who dared whip up his procellous rage!

And so he said:

“But it’s cool no totally I guess I should watch it next time I mean you did say to give you space so –

Sorry. Hi. I’m Yan… and that was some move back there. A little rusty – but I guess if that’s what you’re going for…” Okay so he liked to play games – but he couldn’t help it, could he?! He had to get her on his side, and the way to do that was to bait her. She’d react; kick up an uproar – and then he’d demonstrate the weaknesses of such a move, totally in slowed time (there was no way he could repeat it in real time), she’d misconceive him as some sort of ultra-athletic Adonis of her calibre and form an even more formidable truce with him. It was pretty simple as far as plans went… and a little diabolical – but hey, she didn’t need to know where his true strength lay until the situation called for it; for now he’d prove his handiness with a pistol (8/10 in basic training, baby!) and sit back, relax, maybe set fire to a few binders here and there…

But his mind was wandering.
‘Just focus on the task at hand…’

[Deleted]

It was all finally happening, today was the day. For the longest time he had waited for this but now that it was actually happening it all felt a little too soon. ‘Chill out,’ the red haired youngster checked himself as he stared at his open trunk. The object of his attention was an orange jacket that sat neatly folded atop the rest of his personal effects. Gripped loosely at the edge with two hands, Blake lifted his grandfather’s coat and as he sat absorbed in it, his nostrils took in its smell. It had always smelled like man to him, slightly musky and yet almost as if it’s heroic history had somehow been recorded in scent format. Giving the coat one last meaningful glance he tucked it away and zipped up his trunk. “Some day...”

The ship had been docked for a decent amount of time now and the lack of hurried footsteps and shouting alerted Blake to the fact he had probably been daydreaming too long. The young hero-in-waiting was uncharacteristically nervous, he’d always felt underprepared and even now after all his preparations was hesitant to take that first real step. ‘No, it’s fine. You were one of the best back at basic training, plus some of these kids are even younger than you – man up and chill out, you have to make the right impression.’

Mustering his manliness the new recruit brushed off his worries and hurried above deck, luggage in hand. As he approached the ship railing he could see already that the others had for the most part evacuated the vessel by the walkways between the deck and ships. Typically of the several ships that had arrived Blake was on the one that arrived last and of those recruits he was fairly certain he was the last to be leaving. This wasn’t good. Below him was a stream of white, his peers were all clad in their freshly washed uniforms with their fresh faces (for the most part) and they all seemed to know what was going on. Winchester was much as he had read. This side of the Island was reminiscent of most marine inhabited places, the blue seagull insignia flying proud, white well maintained quarters and something reassuring in the air. However, the other side of this island, of which he could not see, was supposed to stand in stark contrast. Smaller shoddy buildings and streets rife with crime, pirates were not afraid to dock on Winchester it was said, but the same could not be said of Seaman Recruit Gower.

Hurriedly Blake sought to catch up to the rest of the new arrivals. Still it was hard to move quickly with a whole case full of your belongings slung over one shoulder and even harder to try and look good whilst doing so. Locks of scarlet hair flapped around in the breeze as he navigated between groups of marines and barking orders, somehow finding himself ushered into a courtyard. Twisting around to affirm this was indeed the right way a marine that appeared to be a Petty Officer gave him a nod and so he continued on, clumsily into the courtyard, backwards.

Twisting full circle confusedly a group of people aged as such to roughly make them his peers were gathered in the training grounds. He gave his best nonchalant wave which came across pretty goofily considering the way in which he was walking but nonetheless he delivered it with his best smile. The majority seemed preoccupied however. Suddenly the small crowd moved back a little and a confrontation became visible to Blake. A girl, she was tall for a girl and skinny but moved with something almost graceful as she flawed some poor guy. Blake’s features scrunched in pain as she dealt what could only be assumed as retribution.

“Ooph~ So this girl, she’s a samurai? What’s a samurai?” he asked another onlooker, trying to make an early friend. His question went unanswered though as something else seemed to kick off.

“Oi! Watch it yeah? You could’a taken my fuckin’ head off!”

This guy has a bit of a mouth on him, then again he couldn’t exactly blame the guy. This girl was like something from one of his grandfather’s stories, he could already imagine her as some stone cold killer. Was this his competition? No, no that was never a good way of thinking – a strong comrade was always a good thing.

“But it’s cool no totally I guess I should watch it next time I mean you did say to give you space so –

Sorry. Hi. I’m Yan… and that was some move back there. A little rusty – but I guess if that’s what you’re going for…”

That brought a grin to his face, this guy was pretty clearly bullshitting. If he’d found the move so amateurish then surely it wouldn’t have rattled him so much seconds before. Not that Blake had really rationalised any of it, he just let out a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah right buddy, she’s better than any--” that was odd, had he meant to start talking? People were paying him attention now. That was probably a mistake, oh well. It was about time to make a gracious exit before he made it anymore awkward on himself.

“Uh—never mind. Just passing by... gotta’ check in and all. Keep it up? I’ll see you all around later~”

Continuing brusquely on into what he could only hope was the correct building, Blake’s green eyes were greeted by a pile of luggage and a rather dreary looking marine situated behind a desk. Without so much as glancing up the marine’s voice monotonously guided the umpteenth newbie through the process.

“Put your bag with the others,” he paused a moment as if this was indication enough that this was the allotted bag placing moment, Blake used it. “Name?” he prompted.

“Blake,” he said unthinkingly, the casual request causing the still untested soldier to forget his proper manner, at least momentarily. “Uh... that’s Blake Gower, Seaman Recruit... reporting for duty, sir!”

The marine idly ticked something off a list, allowing a small grin to pierce his otherwise bored features. To credit him, he’d been at this for a good while today and still had the manner to find the bumbling rookies semi-charming as opposed to outright irritating. Then a flash of recollection washed over his features and he looked up to get a proper look at the man he was addressing.

“Gower... Well f-ling me sideways, son of a gun! That red hair all but says it, you’re Trent’s boy? There’s no mistaking it.”

“You know my dad?” Blake inquired, not having expected any recognition of such strength.

“Know him? Haha, gods, son we go way back. Barry and Trent they’d always used to say, th—So... how’s Oswald these days?” the middle aged marine expertly managed to change the direction of the conversation. His slightly harsh features offset by his jolly demeanour.

“Granddad? He’s... well granddad. Strong as an ox and as loud as ever last I saw him. Barry was it? Barry Moore?” Just as he’d been taught Blake offered a strong handshake as a greeting, it went a long way he’d been assured.

“Well... technically speaking its Lieutenant Commander Moore,” he said slowly but smiling ear to ear at being recognised by his friend’s offspring.

“But yes, Barry’s good too. I uhh, I thought you all lived up in that refrigerator they call the North Blue? How come you’re being stationed at Winchester?”

In truth Blake hadn’t really considered it, so he gave an honest shrug.

“Haha, always the way of it hey? Hmm. Well at least you’ll be kept on your toes,” he chuckled before adding, “On the upside it’s a lot warmer around here. Well then, alright young Blake – looks as if you’ve got a free day ahead of ya. Nought to do until tomorrow – we’ll sort your luggage out; take it to your quarters and what have you. Make sure to eat and sleep well, tomorrow you’ll be starting out as a marine. If you’re lucky you’ll even experience the Winchester welcome.”

“Some kind of initiation thing?”

“I couldn’t possibly ruin the surprise,” the officer replied slyly glancing again at his lists. “Well I say, quite the list of minor celebrities. An interesting bunch this lot” he spoke more to himself than to Blake, but that didn’t stop the curious minded youth from twisting his head and sneaking a look.

“Roth?” the surprise let the word slip from his tongue, assumedly this was who had been referred to with the celebrity comment.

“Huh?” Barry said, bringing the book to a quick and sharp close, preventing anymore ‘strategic recognisance’. “Hey don’t go reading where you shouldn’t kid. There’s a Roth though yes, a young one. Not at all what you’d expect, much skinnier... and shorter. Wore a hat and a sco--”

“A hat? A black hat!?” the red haired marine, a curt nod affirmation came in response. “Oh God,” he moaned as he ran his hand down his face. Glancing toward his belongings he decided it may not be the stupidest thing in the world to grab his stave. Unfastening the bo-staff from beneath his trunk he secured the thing across his back and waved goodbye to his new acquaintance. He then pressed onwards, hesitantly, back into the courtyard.

“Don’t fight it kid, making trouble's in your blood! Haha.”

Gulping he stepped back into the courtyard. So that kid was a Roth, he’d probably not been bluffing after all. Still no point in fretting and he’d been taught to face his blunders, he’d merely smooth it over, it’s not like he’d said anything bad anyway. No, probably they didn’t even notice.

[Harusame]

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---[/center]

'Winchester?'

Her eyebrow raised up in confusion at the captain of the ship. Her head tilted to the side as the question hanged in the air. The captain seemed to have not heard her so she went right up to him and asked again.

'Why is it called Winchester?'

The captain sighed loudly. It seemed he deliberately didn't answer the question. The vein in his head began to throb but he shook his head and kept his calm demeanor.

'Saffira, you've been asking me questions for half an' hour! Please just...go play with your dog.'

For a second, Saffira looked clueless, confused by the Captains words. Then, she remembered her little lie. She couldn't tell the captain that her dog was actually a cheetah named Kuffu who was brother. It would have been weird and awkward for him. So she played along to her fib, not having any plans to tell the man soon.

'Oh, my dog? He's...sleeping. He isn't good with ships. And he doesn't speak English, so you are more fun to tease- I mean talk with.'

The captain side-glanced her with annoyance. She smiled like that little slip of words didn't happen. But honestly, she just wanted to tease him. Her boredom had gone to a level so high, she couldn't help it. And Saffira hadn't talked to any other person besides Hade. This was new experience for her.

'Sorry...I'm really bored and have no one to talk too. Everyone is sleeping.'

The sailor sighed. But now, it seemed more remorseful and forgiving than before. He spoke softly and quietly.

'It's okay...It's just I can't talk with you right now. I'm steering the ship and if I socialize, we could hit something and sink.'

Saffira's shoulders slumped. She walked away from the old man and too her room. When she entered, she saw Kuffu laying on the hammock, fast asleep. She walked over and rubbed his head.

'Wanna play Kuffu?'

A low grumble came from the felines throat and he turned his face. Saffira decided she would go to sleep also. She went over Kuffu and on the other side of the hammock. She stared at the ceiling for at least a hour before falling asleep.

---

RAWR! Saffira jolted out of her bed and fell on the ground. Kuffu's roar scared the shit out of her and she raised slowly with wobbling legs.

'What the hell Kuffu!?'

Kuffu stood proudly and pointed his head at the direction of the door. Saffira walked over to it and looked out. They had docked. She was late.

Saffira ran back and kneed beside her backpack. She began tossing some clothes out for her to wear. Then she stripped down from her other clothes and wore a white tank top with a smiley emoticon, her normal purple pants and Hade's jacket. And of course, she didn't wear any shoes.

After stuffing everything in her pack, she draped the sheet over Kuffu and went out the door. Saffira had played a lie that her dog was afraid of the light so he walked around with a sheet over him. Of course everyone was suspicious but no one took the courtesy of finding out exactly how the dog looked underneath.

She got off the ship and ran to the marine base. It was as if she glided through the air as she hop stepped through the streets. Kuffu followed behind, struggling with running and keeping the sheet on his head and following his 'sisters' scent. When Saffira reached the gates, she stopped and turned to Kuffu.

'Wait Kuffu. I have to sneak you in later. You can go, just listen for my signal.'

Kuffu whined and she rubbed his head. After a moment, Kuffu ran off, finding a place to hide.

Saffira walked in on her toes, literally. With every step, she balanced on the tips of her feet. The first thought she had of the very first marine base she had ever seen; ugly. Windows were smashed, the place looked really old and had brown spots and vines scaling the building. It didn't smell to funky from here but now Saffira wasn't to eager to enter the building.

The second thing she noticed was a crowd of people. They were staring at something but Fira couldn't see with all the people there. So she discarded her curiosity for a moment and walked up to the man sitting in the booth. For a moment, it was quiet. Then the man looked at her for a while. He just stared and stared until a sigh escaped his lips.

'State your name and position.'

He said lazily. As if Saffira should have known this.

'Saffira Jeinali, Seaman Recruit.'

She retorted.

The man kept staring at her. It made her uncomfortable. Why did he look so pissed off? Then she remembered the words of Hades. Always salute a higher ranking officer. She realized what she had done and saluted the man awkwardly.

'Good job. You can just hang out with the other rookies,

He pointed to the crowd.

There really isn't anything today.

Saffira walked away and heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn't even get past the man at the booth, how was she going to get past pirates and criminals? She needed to get better at socializing.

She walked over to the crowd of people and saw them all mesmerized by whatever was going on. She noticed a orange haired kid close by and tapped his shoulder.

'What's going on?'

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[Raab]

Schsch schsch schsch schsch...

Tcktcktck

Schsch schsch schsch schsch...

Rhythmic. Entrancing. The even scrapes and timed clicks of the small brush became a sort of hypnotic mantra after a while, making the task of latrine-scrubbing a bit more bearable [although the chore retained its demoralizing and punishing qualities]. It was a necessary chore, however; stinky sinks and tainted toilets were certainly not conducive of a productive work environment, though it seemed in most other companies the task of cleaning such bacteria-ridden facilities were reserved for those individuals who deserved it. Your pranksters and troublemakers were obvious first picks whilst constructing daily itineraries, though there were others who seemed to take precedent even over that sorry lot.

Fluuuuuush~

"Ahem."

It was a chore that exemplified the notion of "one step forward, two steps back"...also the perennial effect of spicy cuisine on bowel movements.

"You're going to have to get in there again, dog, and it had better be clean enough to eat off of by the time I come back."

Schsch schsch schsch schsch...

Tcktcktck

Schsch schsch schsch schsch...

"Yes, sir."

While the Captain's order had been met with timely response and the necessary respect, his "better" judgement had led him to believe the young recruit sitting proudly in his filth-laden domain had taken to "giving some lip", an act punishable by boot to the dome.

Smack!

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Two hits: unwarranted temple-shot and adult-sized cranium hitting the ground with vicious force. The victim, though, took the blow with amazing bravado, his expression breaking only from surprise; what pain he had felt from his officer's divine retribution was certainly not enough to break his resolve or his skull. It never would.

"Daddy's not here to protect you, dog; who you were and who you knew mean shit here on Winny. You're in my world now. Hell by any other name would burn as hot."

"Yes, sir."

And so the song and dance went, the captain removing a dirtied heel from his subordinate's jaw and moving to exit the room. The recruit, however, seemed to have something on his mind which warranted interrupting the Captain's retreat.

"I'd like to request, sir, that you try your best to attempt to have all urine and fecal matter enter the toilet next time you use the latrine, sir."

The officer stopped dead in his tracks, and if one could look closely, notice a bit of smoke come wafting from out his bright red ears. Turning at the hip, the Captain had this to say:

"Latrine duty for the rest of the month then, dog. That way you'll be able to check me on my capacity for cleanly defecation."

The dull roar of the Captain's footsteps signaled the close of the exchange, allowing the young recruit to gather himself and get in the last word.

"Yes, sir."

___

The day closed with the recruit's eventual conquering of the taint known as the Winchester Island's Rookie Barracks' Latrine [which, in hindsight, might have deserved some sort of nickname or codeword]. It was a grueling task by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the only task befitting of a recruit of this caliber. A young upstart of adopted military royalty, surely a youth who thought he could eat more than he could chew and boast a sense of entitlement for any and all to enjoy.

This was the sense, anyway, no matter how fabricated and misguided.

"Ah, recruit. Finished with latrine duty then?"

"Yes, sir. Only a few minutes ago."

The Lieutenant Commander nodded, taking out a small black book and jotting a few notes down while debriefing the cadet.

"Good, good...well then!"

Snap!

"Our newest recruits just got shipped in today. It'd be good to get to know them; seems the island's getting action in the next few days. These'll be the men and women you fight beside, call brother and sister for the rest of your days here on Winny."

"Yes, sir."

The Lieutenant Commander nodded and smiled, leaving that as the breadth of his informality; he was certainly a fair bit more cordial than a good number of the officers stationed on Winchester.

"As you were, soldier."

"Yes, sir."

And so the recruit took to the courtyard where a fair number of the new recruits had come to gather. He remembered his first day on the island, the rude awakening. While he remembered the lot he had enlisted with, they were all but gone now, sent off to battle while he was set to was latrines for what seemed to be the rest of his days. The "eternal rookie", though his tour of Winchester had only been about a month in the making...though it was perhaps the toughest month the recruit had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

Reminiscing rarely changed what was and what would come, and so the recruit instead turned his attention to the motley crew of sorry sods standing before him. While your average clean-cut and fair-skinned young, white male seemed to take the courtyard in droves, there were a few individuals that stood from the crowd. Two women, one of dark-skinned complexion and another of what seemed to be combat regality. The latter had taken to sword-slinging on day one [though she hadn't realized that a minute off your feet was something of a luxury around these parts]. She was zealous, that was for sure, but did it count for anything?

"Whooooah~!"

"Oh, jeeze."

A group of spry young men had come bouncing over to the recruit's position, eying him up in a rather peculiar fashion. The young men circled him as a cougar or leopard might stalk its prey, taking in every inch of his, well,
unique" nature.

"I've never seen anything like it!"
"I was told we'd see some strange things, but this takes the cake."
"A dog! A giant dog!"

The recruit pushed past the three men, making his way over to the dark-skinned woman who had taken to bothering some no-name pretty boy; his patience for idiocy was short today.

"Fox. Giant fox."[/size][/blockquote]

[Deleted]

Ah the isle of Winchester, the starting point of every decent Marine to come out of the West but uhhhh something seemed off about the place, it just didn’t seem to live up to the grand tales that had been told about it after finishing basic training. Now that he could see it up close and not from the deck of a ship on particularly rocky waters Bastiaan Fisker, the man to become a legend among the Marines felt the slightest bit disappointed as he joined the long queue that had formed outside the administration building. A whitewashed mammoth of a building it looked just as out of place as anything in this hot part of the world but with its terracotta roof tiles that seemed to be just hanging on as they rattled in the breeze this building really looked garish.

“Move along!” shouted a bored looking Marine manning the double doors to the construct and the line shuffled forward, Bastiaan a few feet closer to his destiny. This heat is really something compared to the South he thought as beads of sweat started to form on his brow and around his neck; I may burn to death before I get a chance to sign in.

“Move along!”

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief the recruit stepped through the doors and entered the air-conditioned heaven that was to decide his first duties as a Marine. The minutes seemed to fly by after that as Bas was more concerned with absorbing as much of the cool air as possible, so much so that it caught him off guard when the burly gentleman sat behind the desk said,

“State your name and your rank.”

“Wha-uggh... Bastiaan Fisker sir! Seaman Recruit sir!”

Flashing a well rehearsed salute Bastiaan hoped the man hadn’t caught his blundering buffoonery. Looking away for a second while he jotted something down in his little black ledger the man returned to eyeing young Fisker with a questionable look.

“So Bastiaan was it? Why you are in direct violation of Marine Code 789.4bravo article 1-“

“Article 13 sir! I’ve read it well but I have this...” the young Marine said reaching into his inside pocket and retrieving a wax sealed letter inscribed with the symbol of the Marines. Looking at him even more curiously the man gingerly took the letter and gave it a good eyeing over.

“So the top brass has given you express permission to wear your own clothing you say? What are you royalty or something hehehehe?”

“No sir it is a special privilege given to those who receive a high passing grade in basic training; I had to work hard to earn it.”

“Now don’t get your panties in a bunch princess I believe you. Just leave your luggage with me and go straight through, you’ve got nothing booked for a while so just go to the yard and mingle okay?”

“Yes sir!”

---

The ‘yard’ as the clerk had called it was larger than Bas had anticipated and seemed more like a schoolyard than anything, groups and cliques of his fellow Marines were littered across the area and despite the amount of them present the place still seemed sparsely populated. From what Bastiaan could see some sort of proving ground had been set up where the beefiest looking men were grappling with each other probably trying to find out who’s strongest. Bastiaan was sure this was against some kind of rule but he couldn’t see any figure that appeared to be of rank so he let it slide making a mental note to report the incident later. Walking over to a bench that had presumably been set up for people like him who didn’t like to dabble in violence he sat himself down and gazed around trying to take in all that was around him. Some fellow Marines seemed to have offended a young woman as Bastiaan watched her flip one of the offenders off his feet before introducing herself to him, Bas looked away bored as more people flocked to them to see what the commotion was about. Figures, when the man in charge turns his back they all act like children. A conversation seemed to be developing between the witnesses of the flipping and the flipper herself but Bas was no longer interested as a new object of attention came into view, a fox walking on its hind legs. Dressed in clothes the animal just seemed to be minding its own business like nothing was wrong with it walking about which greatly confused Bastiaan as he thought he was hallucinating as no one else seemed to take notice of this particularly rare sight, that’s until a group of spry looking Marines surrounded the animal.

Whooooah~!
Oh, jeeze.
I've never seen anything like it!
I was told we'd see some strange things, but this takes the cake.
A dog! A giant dog!
Fox. Giant fox.

The animal which apparently could talk (which made it all the more stranger) pushed past his admirers with somewhat of an angry look in his eye as if he had to deal with this often but Bastiaan had to admit it was a strange site but still a dog? He was obviously a fox, at least Bas thought it was a he. Bastiaan looked back at the group who had questioned the poor critter and saw them laughing their heads off at the outburst of the fox-man. Damn fools, don’t they even know the Marine Commandments? Number four: Love thy neighbour. Number five: Every Marine is thy neighbour. Feeling a sense of commitment to the Marines and not wanting their name tarnished Bastiaan stood and started walking towards the furry fox with a straight back and a strong stride.

“Young master, I feel I must apologise on their behalf even if they themselves are not sorry. I would not want you losing faith in the Marines.”

Heard a little rumour that we could just post whenever we were ready >.> If this is not the case and I'm messing with some order just like let me know or something. Jarv out \o/

[/i][/size][/justify][/blockquote]

[Tori Tori Chopper]

'.. Psh.'
One would quickly assume that after you've been goaded once, the next was surely an accomplice of the first.

'I asked for some spa-.'
It seemed her request, lined with a hiss of her own, her one eye visible amongst her hair as she had only slightly tilted in his direction.

He covered his tracks as quickly as he layed them, the guy was to say the most of him, average.. Though there was a lot more to him that Coraline couldn't first perceive in this awkward opening encounter with yet another loud mouthed recruit she is forced to consider colleague, or at least she hoped the plaster ridden face had more to it than a punching bag personality. He verbally defended himself the best he could, though the blade maiden was in enough of a trance while recollecting what method she planned to practice with this odd sword, that the apologies and introductions went right over her head, if anything saying something in response out of instinct rather than conversation. What did chime into her glazed look was the comment that rattled her spine, her teeth sinking into the corner of her lip while she turned to better introduce herself, or at least retort to what came across as competition over an observation. Quickly and cleanly the exposed sabre sung agaisnt its sheath, slotting back into place with a subtle click, before her then inactive hands instantly looked about her person for her death-sticks while finally acknowledging this black hatted mans presence besides coldly looking right through him.

'I wasn't exactly looking fo-' It seemed another gent of equal ability to barge into her personal bubble, and in turn stack the responsibility for interrupting her training despite her losing her train of thought naturally, neither of them being there when it happened.. None the less, she had to have someone to blame, and while they lingered that finger pointed more and more aggressively towards them as the guilty until proven innocent. This one didn't stay to make idle conversation however, he was off with a smile and wave so to speak before Coraline even have a chance to think of a polite gesture to clear off that blankets both of her obstacles. A sharp exhale vented from the part of her mouth that wasn't clamped by pointed bone, running the no longer needed hand through her hair while the one that found her remaining cigarettes stashed inside the vests upper pocket, grasped the two poisonous cylinders with one to her mouth and the second towards the gent who still stood arguably constipated in thought.

'Do me a favour..' Once she had lit her own, the lighter lined up along-side the offered smoke in the same hand. All she could imagine while she pushed out the first funnel of residue off to the side, as to avoid putting it right in her new 'friends' face.. Was the cheerful grin of the one eyed guardian that brought her here, and that constant reminder to avoid this kind of self-indulging practice while she was in the eyes of any kind of marine. Where her face remained stationary in her observation, her eyes darted from side to side, eyebrows raising along with twitching pupils going in sync with the realisation that her little scene from before had rallied more attention than dispersion. If anything it was a little unnerving that a simple display of self-defence and introductions formed this kind of over watch on her every move. Paranoia would've kicked in if a strange sight didn't emerge from the main building. A small party forming away from them with the person who complimented her reaction times, or at least she thought he had, at the center of this cluster. They all seemed interesting in their own right, noting their own little quirks within her seconds glance before looking back to the individual right in front of her.

'Hold onto this, as long as it's not on me y'know..' She decided for him that he wasn't in the smoking mood, flicking the stick between two fingers while her lighter was clutched between her thumb pointing finger.. Slipping the Cigarette into the mans signature hat before pushing her weight to one hip, spinning on her heel and more directly observing the group who looked back at them as if a line had been drawn in the courtyards thin layer of scattered sand. 'Friends of yours?' She figured with that kind of obnoxious magnetic pull on peoples nerves, he must've said hello in an odd fashion to a lot of people in the small time he had presumably been here. Blowing a final cloud of smoke towards the other individuals, pushing the remains from her mouth with the jab of her tongue then into the ground with her raised and pushed down boot. A certain humanoid canine came into view by ears, then muzzle, it wasn't so much the orange haired previous acquittance that was the alpha dog at all.. It was this guy being eye balled by the surrounding newcomers. Which in light of it all seemed rather fitting.

'The Genius, the Fox, the Grandson.. And that's just to start.'

Voorn's chuckle resonated about the spacious vessel dorm, the manifest of new meat so to speak lit up like fireworks with the kind of names that all seemed to fall into open season at the same time and place. 'Are they strong?' The slightly more perked than usual tone emitted from the other side of the room, cross-legged on the thick window frame the curious blade maiden perched, starring off into the waves as her hair mimicked their movements with the winds aid. 'Well, their parents are, either that or their reputation proceeds them without their hand in it.. Much like yourself, with such a charmer for a father.' The well-deserved cockiness radiated from the high standing soldier, stroking his chin in humour after Coraline had turned to fire blank stares at him in rapid succession. 'Just make sure you know where these ones are, that way you can keep ahead of them.. with names and appearances like that backing them, most people would be expecting talent, and in turn promotions.' She sighed, rolling off her seat and towards the rooms exit with numerous stretches.

'Got that Cora? Mark them, or you'll be saluting to them.'

'Thanks for the technical input.' By which she was commenting on his opening line of what she thought was friendly conversation, giving a light wave before strolling off towards to group ahead of them. It seemed mid-day and immediately after drop-off wasn't the time to start practising. From who Voorn had described, only one was really obvious by appearance alone, and considering she seemed to be attracting odd forms of attention just be standing around.. she may as well drop the quiet and 'to-herself' attitude for the moment. Save the training for the twilight hours, and the introductions in five.. Four.. Three.

'Red?' His nickname, or at least appointed name in conversation's past, was a lot easier to remember than anyone else's. Her hand extended, pushed between whoever stood in her way for whatever reason, shoving one side of hair into her cap, as to avoid blocking her vision of the interesting marine. She stood in a natural yet intimidating manner, weight shifted to one side with her non-used arm resting agaisnt the handle-ends of her two blades. 'Ren.' That was it, no pleasantries to reinforce or pad it as a memorable name or greeting.. And the moment he had or had not shook her hand, she waltzed off. Off to the wall, not too far from where they were in regards to distance, and not a single person on it at this kind of day by the looks.

Quiet places were something to note, at least in her case.

[Cirrus]

There was a subtle, unwritten paradigm in which all those in the marine courtyard had found themselves, Yan noted, his contemptuous eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the many gathered, remaining decidedly unimpressed and uninterested in whatever they had to offer. So far as he could see in the faces of the crowd there was no one who emanated a similar aura to the girl he faced, a similar drive, dark as pitch like a threatening black hole, drawing in those around it, crushing and squeezing and stretching and tearing those inside it like a Rottweiler with a ragdoll. There were the alphas, those whose faces were no doubt now burned inside the memories of the others like a brand, marking them as the ones to watch. And then there was the rest; the fodder. ‘A little harsh perhaps, but the truth always is…’ He would do well to affiliate himself with the alphas – he was one himself, of course, but of a different sort; if the other distinguished marine recruits were bright sparks, he was a sunrise: a softer, less feared kind of light, but if you stared too long you’d suffer arguably worse damage. A Roth was always a snake; currently, Yannick was an adder, flicked forked tongue out in the grass, tasting the air for prey; his father a rattlesnake patrolling the seas, emitting a shaken banshee’s cry, daring piracy to rear its ugly head in its vicinity; his grandfather a python, vice grip over the family legacy, vice grip over Yan himself…

Predators didn’t think too highly of predators.
They thought even less of prey that protested.

Yannick’s beanie-hatted head whipped round, almost cracking the air like a whip, eyes filled with a slave driver’s ire hidden behind obnoxious, glazed mist, as if in some far away land a war was raging, and that same heated, hated conflict blazed beneath the sea-blue of the Brain’s irises.

“Yeah right buddy, she’s better than any--” The boldly spoken words stopped the moment Yan had turned around.

“Uh—never mind. Just passing by... gotta’ check in and all. Keep it up? I’ll see you all around later~” ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’ He mused upon finding and dealing with the distinctively haired loudmouth there and then, if only for a moment, but restrained himself to simply exacting further damage to the stranger’s public standing with a sharp quip. And so he said,

“Yeah, you’d better run!” Accompanied with the ubiquitous chicken gesture, and a smirk; he knew how to work the crowd, and a couple of jeers and mean-spirited laughter followed the departing marine before dying down and the focus returned to the hidden-haired pessimist and his ‘cohort’. The blade maiden had opted to lighting a cigarette and maintaining the same stony-faced expression. Or perhaps she was ruminating over some concealed topic, the smoke she exhaled just wisps of secrets, dissipating and poisoning those around them. Yannick’s face produced a frown – ‘“tar deposits build up in the lungs, flooding it and hampering performance in the field; the odour is horrendous and does nothing but pervade these negative effects to your comrades, both physically and spiritually – smoking is rarely a happy occurrence, especially on a mission…” or so goes the handbook.’ – but she looked smart enough to know that. And so she must have been smoking to relieve stress: no matter how hard she tried to hide it, something or someone was getting to her… His frown didn’t disappear though; his success was intangible and the enfeebling aroma of burning tobacco was all too real as it choked his nostrils. He clenched his fists and thrust them in his pockets, holding his breath – it was all he could do to prevent a coughing fit and bringing his house of ridicule all down on him. As chance would have it the smoking swordswoman declined any offer of a cigarette for him, and spoke.

“Hold onto this, as long as it's not on me y'know..” And with that she tucked the death stick into Yannick’s beanie, thankfully unlit, turned gracefully and subsequently walked away.

He followed.
If something had piqued her interest then it was his business too.
‘Wise move… annoyingly wise move,’

She hadn’t taken the bait – it would seem he’d misjudged her character slightly, though that couldn’t be helped, considering this was their very first meeting. Although being quietly incensed wasn’t really his style – she had, after all, publicly ignored him – there were far bigger fish to fry; he couldn’t let his bubbling cauldron of emotions spill over when there were so many people in the lair, so to speak: the only outcome would be catastrophe for any future he had with the clearly talented swordstress. And so he stayed close, ignoring the smoke as best he could while keeping his eyes open and his mind sharp: something was beginning to happen. He glanced at the girl, who’d introduced herself as Ren to her first victim all those minutes ago, and saw her extinguish her cigarette on the floor with an ingrained motion; she did it without thinking – how old was she to have been smoking for so long? In all the ‘commotion’ he hadn’t got a good look at her face… And now wasn’t the time either. As he’d anticipated, something was about to happen.

The crowd moved with them and the words of a conversation danced themselves across the air and resounded in his ears blaringly, the information they conveyed was at once alarming and fascinating, and though this time Yan’s eyes didn’t flare dimly with interest, his tongue slipped under his teeth, subconsciously, to keep him from saying anything.

“Giant fox.” He didn’t believe it – though his father had told him tales of the unimaginable, they’d all taken place in the Grand Line, in the New World: even if this did exist, it shouldn’t have existed here! The negative nerd was rooted to the spot, his eyes giving him nothing else other than there was indeed a giant fox, standing upright, talking with eloquence and surprisingly, composure, despite the spectacle he was at once transformed into. ‘Hmm… maybe he has a Devil Fruit?’ wondered the tactician, before quickly rescinding that thought. ‘No no, he wouldn’t have taken this abuse… and why would he use his abilities so early on – this is a social event in a marine citadel, there’s no risk of attack… and even then, aren’t Zoan forms huge? If my power was so disappointing I wouldn’t exactly show it off…’ It wasn’t like he had the chance to ask him anyway.

The fox had had enough, and pushed past those untactful enough to poke and prod at him like a specimen. He headed directly for another marine as if she offered sanctuary. ‘His handler perhaps? Have we been in the presence of a superior this whole time?’

“Young master, I feel I must apologise on their behalf even if they themselves are not sorry. I would not want you losing faith in the Marines.” And Yannick’s attention was diverted again as another called after the anomalous fox. There were too many voices in this crowd. The man who’d spoken was a smartly and solemnly dressed marine… with a cape. It was odd to see a recruit in atypical clothing; even Yan had donned some variation of the uniform today. ‘Special permissions for special people, I suppose. But who talks like that anyway? He sounds like he’s fifty or something, banging on about faith in the marines… brainwashed already and not a day into active service – I guess they’re getting better at basic training…’ The beanie-hatted marine glanced to his right again, expecting to see Ren also reacting to the scene.

He didn’t.

The crowd hadn’t remained as transfixed as he’d been; their eyes too were on the blade maiden and her flagrant actions. It seemed as if she already knew the fox, for the first word she spoke to him was a name. Red… When the whole world pushes down on your shoulders because you’re different, it is the colour of your rage; when abuse pervades even into the body of justice, it is the colour of your welts; when your assumed humanity is swept from beneath your feet, you realise it is the colour of your fur; but when all are stripped bare to a list of morals and ethics, it is the colour of the heart…

It was irrelevant. Dogs only saw in black and white.

Ren introduced herself to the fox with a simple word. She marked him out as different before walking away. On this occasion Yan neglected to follow her. The fox had something… or was something special – special enough for the laconic lass to spare a few words anyway. He had to investigate; if he held her secrets then he’d be turned on his head and shaken until they all fell out, little tokens so he could play her like an arcade game, get her on his side.

Band together the predators and what do you get?
Blood, sweat and tears.

Approaching the canine custodian of justice, the Brain made a point of looking down the two inches he had over the giant fox before bending his knees in a faux-squat, going eye to eye with the target of interest. He stared for a while, his expression still a frown. And then he stopped frowning, his face losing all seriousness as he rubbed the back of his head – and whilst it wasn’t quite the carefree, smiley expression one would expect to go along with the gesture, it was as close as Yan was ever going to get.

“I guess she’s in to you – how’d she know your name anyway? Have you two met before?” Oop – he’d forgotten his introduction: assuming the fox couldn’t see faces as well as he could, and there’d be no visual clues save for er, the distinguishing beanie he wore, he’d have to help out as much as possible when it came to recognition; associate a name to a face, as it were.

“I’m Yan – and you’re uh, Red, wasn’t it. D’you have any idea when what we’re meant to be doing is going to start? From the looks of it… it could be any time – there’re no clues if I’m honest.”

[Deleted]

“What’s going on?”

Blake turned; the questioner had almost purred the question and had no hesitance in getting his attention, physically prodding his shoulder. The mocha skinned hand belonged to an exotic looking young lady; she was fairly tall for a girl and had a mane of long purple hair. Her eyes glimmered, almost golden. In truth the answer was one the young recruit didn’t have, besides not being able to shake the feeling people had changed how they were acting since he’d returned from signing in, he had no idea. Still the Roth kid didn’t seem too upset, the whole incident was being eaten up by another.

“Whooooah~!”
“Oh, jeeze.”
“I've never seen anything like it!”
“I was told we'd see some strange things, but this takes the cake.”
“A dog! A giant dog!”

“Fox. Giant fox”.

The entire populace of the training yard seemed to have converged on a single person. It was true; Blake could scarcely believe his eyes as they confirmed a bona-fide oddity. Fruit users were rare in the Blues but what else could explain such a marvel? Turning back to the young lady who’d asked him a question, he sought a reply as not to appear rude.

“Uhmm, I guess there’s a talking fox?” he said slowly, not quite allowing the truth his senses reported to override his natural sensibilities. Still as the profile of the creature became ever more visible it became harder and harder to question. Pushing his way past his undesired entourage the humanoid fox closed in on Blake and his new female acquaintance. He walked with a military confidence and stranger still, seemed a fairly snappy dresser. Before Blake was able to formulate the correct reaction to the circumstance, two familiar faces and one new one had closed in around them, also keen to address the fox.

“Young master, I feel I must apologise on their behalf even if they themselves are not sorry. I would not want you losing faith in the Marines.”

The speaker’s visage matched his voice and sentiment. He was almost the definition solder, he dressed militantly, his hair was black and slick, eyes cool and yet intense. Oddly enough, it seemed a few of the people around him had taken liberties, as he himself had, with the uniform. Still this young gentleman had taken it upon himself to wearing something entirely distinct, his marine getup was black and not white and his hat too, was distinct from the standard issue. What he was apologising for Blake could only guess, perhaps it was all this unwanted attention.

“Red?” the ‘samurai’ girl interjected, giving a name to the furry young celebrity.

“Ren,” she concluded briefly, Blake made sure to make note of both names. Then it was his turn to speak. The Roth.

“I guess she’s in to you – how’d she know your name anyway? Have you two met before?” Something about his mannerism irked the red-haired rookie. He didn’t seem to filter himself and his curiosity came across almost intrusive. What’d he care if they knew each other or not? Was it merely he liked to be the centre of attention?

“I’m Yan – and you’re uh, Red, wasn’t it. D’you have any idea when what we’re meant to be doing is going to start? From the looks of it… it could be any time – there’re no clues if I’m honest.”

‘Yan Roth, huh? Well then.’ If any knew the young man’s warlike heritage they didn’t show it and he seemed less insane than stories would have led Blake to assume. Perhaps he was prejudging him unfairly. He’d asked a good question, if they day had been left free for them to get their bearings; it really seemed to be having the opposite effect. What were they supposed to do? Exploring could be a good start.

“Hey,” he started, talking to no one in particular. Giving a nod to the group and something between a wave and a salute he decided he may as well throw his name into the mix. “I’m Blake... Blake Gower, pleasure to meet you all. I’m not really sure what we should be doing either, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Winchester, the real Winchester.”

He let the suggestion hang for a little, like an open invitation, it was true he was quite keen to see this so called rogue half of town. The stories really captured his imagination. He’d had little experience of thugs, thieves and pirates first hand.

Ready to shake any hand willing (a firm handshake, of course) the young redhead made a point of not addressing the fox specifically. Some of what had been said had may suggest he was a superior standing, the same went for the smoking sword lass, Red and Ren - those had been their names. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to brownnose, especially on a hunch and frankly both seemed to have had their fill of unwarranted attention. His confidence was returning, strangely enough. Even with such colourful individuals around him, the confusion in people’s faces and admission of directionless had made him feel for the first time, on equal footing to his new comrades. This was his chance to make a good impression after all; soon he’d be fighting alongside these strangers.

“I mean... what do people do for fun around here anyhow?” Cheeky grinned; the bo-staff equipped recruit swept a stray crimson bang from his face. There was no point standing around wide eyed all day, if not one else cared to, he was sure he could find something to fill his time with.

[Harusame]

[/i] Her head shivered around to her back and she saw it, the giant fox. It walked on its hind legs like a human and wore clothes. His face was in a sort of scowl; probably from all the attention it was being given. And Saffira thought only one thing, he is so cute. Her eyes marveled at the sight of the humanoid creature. Hade had talked about weird things out at the seas, and this took the cake for Saffira considering she hadn't traveled much.

'Uhmm, I guess there's a giant talking fox?'
'A cute one.' She whispered.

She wasn't attracted to the fox sexually; it was more like a newborn baby. A sight she adored. She had to restrain herself from jumping on it. She followed the puffy-jacket kid towards the fox. In fact, everyone went towards the thing; he was like a human-magnet.

Saffira’s hush was too abnormal for her, but she didn’t know what to say. Her mind didn’t even process the words that were being flagged around by some beanie kid and a swords woman. But, she did realize they had all introduced themselves. Finally, her mind came back into focus and she examined everyone.

The beanie kid who was named Yan seemed sort of…up-tight. Maybe even a bit evil, like he would spring at anyone at any second. Saffira was a bit hesitant to go near him since his aura was so negative, but she knew people weren’t bad for no reason.

The girl, who she hadn’t gotten the name of, seemed to be the sort of girl who hides from the world. A bit dark and gloomy but again, Saffira knew she probably had positive traits.

Then there was Blake Growler, the red haired kid she had talked to first. He seemed the most normal out of the bunch. Blake seemed easy-going, mellow and calm. She would get along splendidly with him.

Her attention went to the fox again. He seemed to be a respectable person, fox to be exact. But honestly, she wasn’t sure about him. All she knew was h was a awesome looking giant fox. She wanted to glomp him down so badly. Saffira was quiet until she realized, she hadn’t introduced herself. She opened her mouth but at the moment, screams were heard from the door, She turned her head to the door and saw Kuffu, bounding towards her from the entrance.

’Damn it Kuffu.’

[/ul][/font]

[Raab]

"Uhh..."

This...this, by any stretch, was certainly not the introduction our young furry friend had prepared for at all.

One by one, each of these young men and women [who proved to be some of the most personable recruits Red had ever had the pleasure of meeting] came to make their acquaintance, as a duke or duchess might show respect to their presiding king; never had they seen or heard of the foxy trooper, yet they felt all the more compelled to at least state their name with all the bells and whistles that accompanied a proper and respectable first impression. It was the first time Red had experienced any sort of mutual respect, and it left him uneasy. He prayed more than anything that it wasn't some sort of cruel and twisted joke crafted by these newly-docked recruits; even if it was, the group's sincerity and war-time awkwardness seemed all too real for people pulling a prank.

It was infinitely more peculiar for unlike the rest of the recruits that seemed to funnel through these barracks on a daily basis, each and every one of these particularly eccentric individuals were their capacity for individuality, a sort of "stand-out-ish-ness" absent in the many droves of cocky, "wet-behind-the-ear" boys that liked to call themselves marines. There was something different about this lot, everyone from the "Samurai Sister" to the "Black-capped Blue-blood"...hell, even this "Pretty Pansy" an air about him, although his attitude towards his station seemed remarkably similar to the average lot.

"Ren, Yan, Blake..."

Short, monosyllabic names...this was going to be cake. Easily memorable, if anything.

"And...'Cheetah Girl'...and...'Cappy'..."

Not the most creative nicknames, unfortunately, though they certainly were obvious enough to make an impression on Red's weak ability of remembering names and faces.

"Like, uh...Ren...that swordy-girl over there knew..."

Somehow.

"I'm Red. Or that's what people call me, at least."

It was increasingly obvious that introductions and first impressions were not Red's bag, and that he was scrambling for words at every mental turn. He usually had little more to do than serve as the verbal punching bag for the waves upon masses of lilly-livered land-lubbers who had enlisted on a whim or at the wish of their fathers and mothers. Abuse and ill-will was the name of Red's game; cordiality and camaraderie...the fox might as well have been speaking another language.

Maybe it was in his best interest to lighten the mood with a joke?

"Because of all the blood I spill...like when I fight...cause blood, it's red and...yeah..."

With an awkward chuckle and a silent audience, Red found his "joke" of sorts had suffered a crippling defeat at the hands of poor delivery and miserable context. Perhaps jokes weren't they way to go, especially as someone as characteristically uncharismatic as our foxy friend.

"The bandana...it's red. That's why I'm Red."

Picking up his bandana between thumb and claw, the foxy fighter modeled the cloth in question, a plain red bandana tied loosely round his furry neck. It was nothing special, not to anyone else, at least, though it held a certain amount of value to Red; while he wasn't exactly sure what that value was for certain, he knew he would be hard-pressed to part with the simple accessory and that he would protect it at all costs.

Letting loose the lightly-frayed end of the old kerchief, Red decided to close out his increasingly uncomfortable and ill-planned introduction.

"That's me. All you gotta' know, anyway."

Completely disinterested in the group whom he had royally blown any companionship with, the creature retreated to the far wall with his tail between his legs [though in this instance, it was quite literal seeing as Red had a tail to place between his legs, though he was completely unaware of the fact]. Not realizing that the first girl, the swordy girl, had taken up a spot on the shaded wall, the young fox slid down a few meters before plopping himself down onto the ground, waiting until just after getting comfortable if his presence was welcome.

"Mind if I hole up here, ma'am?"

Although the woman's answer had no bearing on the fox's staying or moving from his resting place, Red felt that it was at least polite to ask whether or not it was fine if he sat in such close proximity to the young woman. It was odd...but then again, so was a talking vulpine.

[Deleted]

“Young master, I feel I must apologise on their behalf even if they themselves are not sorry. I would not want you losing faith in the Marines.”

The trigger phrase that set it all off, these few meaningless words that on their own are powerless but when pieced together in just the right way they ignite the hearts around you, at least that’s how Bastiaan saw it. The entire flock of Marines present on the court seemed to turn their heads in unison their gazes all going Bas’s way. Some looked excited and wonderstruck, others quizzical and intrigued, the minority frightened. Bastiaan had never thought himself a people person but now seeing his effect on people for the first time he started to reconsider his choices.

“Uhmm, I guess there’s a talking fox?”

And then Bastiaan remembered his present company. They weren’t looking at him hell they probably wouldn’t even if he started doing handstands and party tricks; it seemed this particular vulpine was a rarity indeed. But still his furry comrade was drawing a crowd as many a Marine started to comprehend what they were seeing and started to timidly approach. Well all apart from one pair who Bastiaan hadn’t even seen approach, their presence only being revealed by a female hand darting across Bastiaan’s field of view. The sudden intrusion of the limb startled Bas as he flinched moving himself back a few inches.

“Red?” the girl spoke first naming the fox-man hybrid, Bas would be sure not to forget that.

“Ren.” And then she was gone, swooped in and out like an angel blanketed in nicotine hardly saying a word. This just seemed to make her more impressive. Bastiaan would certainly have to keep his eye on her.

Of course then it was the lackey’s turn to exchange pleasantries, at least that’s what he looked like. Same height as the girl and not much heavier he had a face riddled with plasters so Bastiaan could only conclude he was the big boys punching bag though what he was doing hanging around a woman of this calibre was still a mystery. The boy introduced himself as Yan, yes boy because just by looking at him you could see he wasn’t a day over seventeen, and went about questioning the fox called Red about today’s activities which to be honest Bas should have been paying attention to but his boat ride had been bad at best and he had made peace with the fox so he simply retired himself back to his bench letting the pair have their conversation unimpeded.

Stretching his limbs Bastiaan reached instinctively to his side for his blade which since he had some free time he had decided to check over. His hand grasped nothing but air though as it suddenly dawned on him what he had done, he had attached it to his luggage so he didn’t lose it on the journey but he had forgotten to take it back before handing his luggage in. Now bladeless and apparently friendless Bastiaan started to feel a bit depressed and defeated until another new arrival piqued his interest.

“Hey, I’m Blake... Blake Gower, pleasure to meet you all. I’m not really sure what we should be doing either, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Winchester, the real Winchester.”

The red haired man had a point, they weren’t really doing anything and what he proposed sounded interesting yet blasphemous. You can’t just walk out of a Marine base! Especially one in a place like this, we’d be fish food outside these walls! Going into thinking mode Bastiaan’s brow furrowed as his mental debate raged. That officer did say we didn’t have much on today... We would be doing a good thing... Pirate scum need to burn... They can’t punish us for simply helping the community.

No there has to be some rule against it! And that was that, Bas had made up his mind, he couldn’t jeopardise his whole career just on the prospect of beating up some hooligans. He would wait it out and report this Gower guy to his commanding officer as soon as he could, they would deal with him accordingly. Looking quite smug Bastiaan folded his arms and turned away from group just waiting for his chance to arise.

Do it. There it was the nagging voice at the back of his mind. Do it. He had to block it out, believe in justice and regulation. Luck is on your side. Bastiaan’s fortitude started to waver ever so slightly as he let the voice in. If you didn’t take a chance you’d still be in that hellhole. NO! Block it out. You’d be dead if you didn’t take a chance...

...

Ah fuck it.

Turning back to face the group while letting out a heavy sigh Bastiaan’s eye locked on to the man he wanted.

“Señor Gower! I’d like to have a word with you if you’re really interested in seeing the wild side of Winchester.”

Finally realising that he hadn’t actually told anyone his name yet Bastiaan added a little nugget of information at the end with a bow of his cap,

“The name’s Bastiaan by the way. Bastiaan Fisker.”

[Tori Tori Chopper]

Shck Shck~

'Ugh, not now..'

Shck Shck Shck~

'.. Crap.'

Sucked dry of its life-blood, the decorated and unusual Zippo lighter produced nothing much than smoke and sparks, not even enough to satisfy one last breath of fumes from the cigarette she didn't even know she had. A hiss signalled her defeat and dismissal, the lone stick of poison flicked off the wall and down the impressive drop between the bases rocky protection and the ground below it, which was an interesting distance considering the base itself remained at ground level. Was there really need for such extreme walls? What was so chaotic on the other side of the island, not even close to the marine base that required its defences to be of such intimidating stature, of course this wasn't so much Coraline's concern as was the lighter that refused to budge from its stance of inoperable condition.. Thus making its refilling a high-priority after taking in the impressive sights. The wind was strong enough up here to nullify her senses, the constant tangled mess of black scribbles which occupied her mind simply out of aggravation without any reasonable source or output left to pasture in a place like this. It jumbled her mental state, enough for her to seek refuge in silence more often than not, mainly in attempts to block or push away what Cora herself considered an emotional dent that doesn't belong.

The side of piracy on the island seemed to be the kind of location that never slept, smoke trails and ambience of ruckus and foul-play travelled even to her in whispers and reminisce of its former volume, it was like a lure to people like them.. An invitation to do your job and prove your worth, it was probably why so many marine never made it off the island, or even made it through their first week. It all felt so cryptic, a feeling that she was seriously over thinking her situation just because of the pedestal her guardian had placed it on. These running contenders to match, opponents of justice in their hundreds a few yards away from her, though whole temptation and cold thinking had to eject itself, or so she tired to practice with the sharp exhales of for once clean air agaisnt the opposite breeze. Her arms folded, the lighter left to drop down agaisnt her trouser leg on its short and solid chain while her mind went blank, void of all happenings and concerns was her mask she'd rather do without, but in reality it was something she eagerly practiced. She angled her swords, dropping to the ground with over-lapping knees to nearly collapse into a cross-legged state, her arms remaining close to her chest and her eyes slowly closing as if unable to resist the temptation of relaxation.

'... Hm.'
The shuffling sounds that unsettled the noted surroundings perked her ears.

'Hmmmm...'
It shuffled in search for a place to rest, Her ears and rose eyebrows tracking which side of her it was on.

'... I guess.'
The voice was none other than the person she had introduced herself to, possibly seeking refuge from the manic courtyard, possibly unknowingly making her quiet spot a plus one scenario.

She admittedly tensed, the presence of another while she was seemingly off guard was unnerving to say the least, forehead
scrunching up and her posture lowering as if focusing her muscles was going to make the humanoid fox vanish from her vicinity. It only seemed to make things worse, with the voice originating behind them of a familiar tone beckoning for Coraline's attention seemed to just spout from nowhere. She tried to ignore the constant yet casual shouts of her name, before finally the wisp of transportation and high speeds from the solid footing of the much taller man set down on her side opposite of where the Fox had taken as his own. 'Ren, The least you could do it say goodbye to your Dad.' Was he trying to make this the most obvious relation known to man?! All she could do was stand up, letting out a single letter of objection before having long and lanky arms trap her agaisnt his abdomen. 'I'll miss you too little lady.' A constant F lingered in her breath while it was forced from her body with the hug, finally being released only to shield the redness of her face with one eye rubbing hand. He didn't even have anything constructive to say, he just left the moment he had pulled a fast one on her, leaving the blade maiden to jam her hands into her pockets and escape from the recently introduced company as quickly as possible.. Puffs of steam pushing out from her head left and right in haste to vacated the area, free of assumed judgemental individuals and clingy Guardians.

The positives that came with the annoying parental figure departing the base and leaving Cora to her own devices was that he was the only one who could get past that impressively layered armour, trigger this degree of response. She could brush off a little hug and name calling easily if she knew that was the last of it, but her presence within the area that had no doubt been publicly noted by the mans loud announcement would have to not be returned to for some time. Her shadow-sparring has been interrupted, her medication for lack of a better term halted and dismissed by outside variables.. Only one thing remained as she walked closer to the bases gates in her slightly aggressive walking pattern. A whole city of trouble lay just around the corner, and there wasn't a single opening activity in sight for anyone today at least, she didn't aim to cause trouble as much as hope to scout out her hunting ground for the duration of her stay.

Or at least that's what she told herself while mapping out a route into the rebellious side of town.

[Cirrus]

“I’m Blake... Blake Gower, pleasure to meet you all. I’m not really sure what we should be doing either, but I wouldn’t mind seeing Winchester, the real Winchester.”
“A pleasure indeed, motormouth.”

Yan hadn’t forgotten his fellow marine’s interjection earlier, snidely sniping in detrimental comment in response to his perfectly amiable introduction. Irrespective of how salubrious it was to hold a grudge at such early stages of his career there was a nigh-on-violent hate that surged in the pit of his stomach when he gazed at the ponytailed man before him. Of course, this could only be vented through the contempt in his eyes, and so as the beanie hatted brainbox stared down the older marine, willing him to just die or something. He noticed the bo-staff, ran through the encyclopaedic knowledge he had of the weapon, tried to correlate a fighting style to body type, found he had too little data to go off of, found himself becoming ever more prone to antagonising Mr. Gower…

But he extended his hand after a silence, willing to shake.

He really was a snake in the grass; despite his less than benevolent intentions towards the quasi-stranger, Yannick had to take into account that Blake was just that: a stranger. He could prove useful, or at least, less annoying with time – it paid to be rational about these kinds of things. If the Roth’s tactician was going to play chess, he’d have to have some pawns; no matter how much you dislike the rooks and bishops you never simply throw them away until they’ve exhausted some sort of purpose.

He didn’t smile, though.
His acting wasn’t that fantastic.

“I mean... what do people do for fun around here anyhow?”
“Stay alive, I guess – this is a place of conflict, there’s not really much fun to be had.” Yan’s tone was less than understanding, to say the least, but in all fairness he had a point. Was there really such a thing as leisure in an island dedicated to close encounters? You just had to take one step, move just one inch to the other side of the wall to be suspect to all the dangers of Winchester Island. It was true treachery; things that could end your life flickered and flared like shadows dancing under light – the World Government sponsored citadel here on the island was the torch, the flame, the candle dying in penumbra, the lonely sun in vast black space. And you know what they say about space: no one can hear you scream. Drowned in a body-bath of pirate swords and guns and axes and hate, you wouldn’t even be missed here on Winchester – written off in the books as another unfortunate casualty, another one who wasn’t careful. ‘And then you have this lout, talking about fun…’ Okay, so Blake had done enough to earn his ire, but it wasn’t like Yan was going to do much about it – the guy was armed, and although the teal haired tyrant also had extra means to protect himself, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of starting a shootout in marine orientation – it wouldn’t look too good on his record, at any rate.

“Señor Gower! I’d like to have a word with you if you’re really interested in seeing the wild side of Winchester.” A slightly familiar voice served as the killing wind to his murderous, fiery thoughts – it was the man from before, with the peremptorily affixed ideals of marine glory in his brain and the similarly attached cape on his back. He’d turned chipper in the time that had passed, it seemed; but all Yan was concerned with was the fact that he’d focused his attention on Mister Gower. What was it about him that lured others? He was a nobody. Well, almost – surprisingly unbeknownst to Yan, the Gowers weren’t too shabby in terms of reputation either. It just went to show how the murky clouds of heaven could besmirch the gaze of those enthroned; how emissaries of the empyrean had lost the plot; how the Chinese whisper had gotten out of hand. From the summit of the mountain the hardest thing to do is look down; from the base of it, all you ever do is look up. The Roths were champion breed in the relative competition of the rookies that represented aspiring marine families; the Gowers, well, underdogs – mutts and mongrels – no wonder Yannick found it particularly easy to look down his nose at Blake…

But the situation was what the situation was; the caped crusader was aligned to the bo-staff-toting rookie, and that was that.

“The name’s Bastiaan by the way. Bastiaan Fisker.” He introduced himself and Yan took the perfect opportunity to do the same.

“Mr. Fisker, I’m Yan and this is…” He turned, expecting to see a humanoid fox standing dutifully beside him. But his eyes found empty space. Red had faded away, leaving nothing in his place.

“Er, this was Red – that fox you were talking to earlier. He’s gotten off somewhere...” The tactician promptly turned – after all, he wasn’t particularly interested in Blake or Bastiaan; Red was imperative to finding Ren, and it was her, the most physically talented of the bunch so far as he could discern, that he wanted to be around. Mere proximity would allow him to shift into her good books and sift into her team. Taking a gamble, Yan assumed she’d rise as one of the leaders of the pack, and it would do wonders for his lifespan to be on her side. And so he walked away, nose scrunched up in both disdain and for a purpose; he was trying to sniff out that odd fox – hey, who said the intelligent couldn’t be silly?

Besides, he’d claim it worked as he whipped his head around, his contemptuous eyes catching sight of red highlighted against dull grey… maybe that fox was more to this place than he realised.

He found him awkwardly against the wall beside Coraline, not so much sharing a smoke, rather sharing a silence; the unfriendly swordswoman wasn’t saying much, it was sure to say, and it was no small wonder that she was in the process of just leaving the space with a hint of frustration about her when Yan arrived. He nodded a silent ‘hey,’ to Red before standing against the wall beside him.

“You’re quiet for a talking fox, d’you know that?” He said, half-heartedly hoping to start a conversation, though he wasn’t really listening for a reply: Yannick’s eyes had been pretty firmly locked on Ren the moment she started to depart, and they’d followed her trail, her beeline to the exit as his brain placed 2x and 2x together. He glanced at the fox, not really caring if he’d seen her do the same because at that moment it was frankly irrelevant; he needed him to be with him, he needed him to follow him following her out of the marine camp and out into grand old evil dangerous perilous life-threatening Winchester. Whatever kind of restlessness burned in the girl’s bones it wasn’t conducive to letting the beanie-hatted brainbox join her in her exploits.

“She’ll die out there on her own, Red… We have to go after her.” He sighed, taking the flintlock that he’d taken such pains to hide under the back of his hoodie out of its holster, pulling off the safety and striding out into the real world, hoping that the bravado of the action would serve as a slipstream to take more than just a bipedal fox with comedic impairment as his backup.

Because that was a joke in itself.

[Deleted]

Blake’s brand of cheery self confidence mixed with a hint of clumsy optimism had not seemed to sit well with the young Yannick Roth. Still the two recruits managed to exchange pleasantries, albeit unpleasantly and for now be on their separate ways. Both too had held their tongues, Blake more so than his younger, more cynical and brighter counterpart. Something about that kid unnerved him; it was almost as if you could see the gears turning behind his un-emotive eyes. As they split company the sharper observer may have noticed the dispersing of the wave of tension, already there existed some undercurrent of subtext between the two. Still they'd shaken hands as men and for now that was that.

“Later kid,” he muttered to the back of the hateful youth as he traipsed after the more reserved of the rag-tag group. Pausing a moment a look of irritation flashed across the warm features of the redhead. “Hey! Wasn’t going into town my idea?” Having attempted to seize some minor control over his situation, it seemed it had immediately been taken back away from him, nonetheless already in his mind a scheme of sorts was forming.

“What the hell?” rarely did one have to perform two animal related double takes in such a short period of time, but indeed the courtyard had a very much less sentient carnivore in its midst. The wild eyed girl who till this point still remained nameless greeted a cheetah, a cheetah of all things, in very much the manner one would greet their dog. Was this a marine facility, or a zoo? Having a half a mind to ask this very question yet again the attention of young Blake was pulled away from him. At this point it was easier just to go with it. After a talking fox a person’s willingness to accept the odd expands somewhat.

“Señor Gower! I’d like to have a word with you if you’re really interested in seeing the wild side of Winchester.”

The speaker was none other than mister militant. Blake wanted nothing more than to loosen him up a little, he seemed the rigid type. Nonetheless, he spoke warmly enough and next to ‘the Roth’ he was a delight. Introducing himself as Bastiaan Fisker he immediately held Blake’s attention. Why was it he didn’t have to wear anything close to the correct uniform?

“Well met Baastian,” pausing he shot the other trio, Red, Ren and the Roth brat a slightly less than gracious glance. He had no ill will toward the quiet two, but already he felt a puppet in a game. Were there two sides now? A fiery ambition that the young Gower didn’t know he had was rearing in him, it was decided. “I am interested, do you know it?”

Leaning in slowly he beckoned toward the cheetah girl. Slightly odd though she may be, he imagined anyone that bizarre had to be offset with an equally strange skill set. Still, the feline predator unnerved him a little.

“As I see it, today we have a choice. We can get some rest and ready ourselves for tomorrow, or we can set ourselves apart from the pack,” his eyes flickered toward the cheetah,
“So to speak... But uh-- I’m willing to bet that my knowledge of wanted faces is one of the best on this island and bounty hunting is an established marine pastime. So I say, we set ourselves apart, rope a couple of low-lives and really set ourselves apart. What d’ya say?”

Striking what he considered a heroic pose, his hand slipped subtly to his hip as he gazed out profoundly toward the gate. Clearly he was resolute in his decision; although it was also clear he was eager for company. The nerves in his stomach were suppressed by his urge to appear in a good light and just a hint of one-upmanship. Plus just as Lieutenant Commander Moore had said, mischief was in his blood. All that remained to be scene was who would come with him and if perhaps Baastian would take the lead, for despite his theoretical knowledge, he’d never been on Winchester before and his experience on the field was next to nonexistent.