Nostalgia and Departure: Ice Nine

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Well, damn. How about that? Another blizzard, great. Freaking great.” What else could go wrong? Absolutely nothing. Nikolai was gone, Lieutenant Thatcher had finally dispatched, and now any hope of pursuit was gone. It turns out, as far as Vincent had heard, Thatcher’s superior wanted to see the giant man that was causing such a ruckus in the small town. Ensign Junpei was to keep command of the small Marines that remained on the island, though that command was to change shortly, or so the rumors went. And let’s not even mention that damned Jorgen. Stupid puny, skinny, worthless, insignificant weasel. Who the hell was he and how did he manage to just vanish off the face of Ice Nine? Did he simply drop down and die? Well, did he? Good. He deserved it, damn punk. Showing up like that, making such grand claims, and then disappearing without so much as a trace.

And so now, in another déjà vu like manner, Vincent ‘Wildcat’ Vitkas, the monster of Ice Nin, the five-million Beri bounty head, terror of all who came across him, the orange destroyer of Marines… was sitting in the dampness and coldness of the abandoned shack that was currently operating as his home. The feeling was quite nostalgic. Only a short period of time had passed since that meeting, roughly a month or so. That meeting was, of course, the fateful encounter between Nikolai and Vincent. That day, too, was another stormy day like today; though, nothing could compare to the storm of that day. The intensity was unreal, though Vincent liked to think that he himself was toughening up to the cold. That day, also, led Vincent to hole up in a small shack like cabin. Ah, if only Vincent had a few bottles of that fiery spirited drink that led to such a beautiful bond between the two men. However, for all of his wishing, the orange haired, wanted man had nothing but a flask of bone chilling water. Irony sucked, huh?

Well, due to this blizzard and all, Marines weren’t out looking for him. Though, the reduction to their forces, after Thatcher’s departure, may have had something to do with that. After all, the last time they saw Vincent, due to nature playing another one of her cruel tricks on him, a merchant vessel had blown up, almost as if by magic. This was, of course Jorgen’s doing, but he had remained completely undetected during their brief and momentary partnership. And so, as far as the Marines knew, Vincent was even more dangerous than they had anticipated, despite the bounty they had already given him. No, they wouldn’t recklessly tear up the city searching for him; especially not with Ensign Junpei in charge. The man was no Thatcher. He had been playing it safe in these last few days. Marines continued to patrol the streets as usual, but it was the docks that Junpei made sure to secure. And yet, there wasn’t a strong sense of urgency, there was no spring to their step, no energy in the search. While Thatcher had a score to settle with the Devil Fruit wielding pirate, Junpei’s prey was being taken to a Marine base somewhere in the North Blue. Whether he felt as if he had no quarrel with Vincent or that he did not want to put himself at risk by fighting the young man, Vincent wasn’t sure. But, most importantly, Junpei did not want to lose the seat of power he so enjoyed. And with the injuries sustained from Nikolai, the Marine was content to let his Marine grunts search on their own.

It would seem, then, that now was as good as a time as any to head out and check out what was going on around town. Only the hardiest citizens of Ice Nine could endure the torture that nature threw at the small island. Though, with the snow jacket Vincent took from the store owner, he figured that he’d be fine out there. Besides, he needed something to eat, and badly. Now then, what was going around the docks?

[Harusame]

The ex-marine wobbled down the path of Ice Nine. The weather battered his face and skewered with his eyesight and senses. How long had it been since he left town? Minutes, hours, days? He couldn't tell exactly where he was or where he had been on foot. All he knew was that he was not a marine anymore. This 'justice' the marines had boasted about, it just wasn't right. They did things according to gaining power, not justice. If anything meant them loosing power, they wouldn't do it. Lying about pirates 'crimes', terrorizing citizens and blaming it on others. All marines weren't justifiable, and he didn't like it one bit. Relocating himself would be okay but he couldn't walk up to a random marine and say "I don't like my division. Let me stay with you."

His persona felt as if it was being drained. All he saw was white, all he felt was cold, and this situation was driving him mad. Snow, snow, snow, snow, SNOW! DAMMIT ALL! Snow was damp, cold and stupid. He could have been walking under the morning sun, smiling and drinking milk. That would have been way better than becoming a fugitive and running into nothingness. Because right now, he felt like he was walking in a alternate dimension where nothing existed. Like a twilight zone, encompassed outside of Ice Nine. The feeling made his stomach sick.

But what made him feel more sick was going back. Those sea dogs didn't realize their situation. They would all soon realize what the 'World Government; truly was. But for them, it would be to late. Their brains would probably process in 20 years, 30 years. Who knew what would become of those poor officers.

Estabon's thoughts were interrupted by something he caught with his eyes. In the snowy blaze, he saw a black spot. At first he thought it was in his eye but with a closer look he realized it was shed. He wobbled through the snow and collapsed in the shed. "This will do." Estabon went out like a light.

[Lord Bromosalino]

“Well now, isn’t this nice?” The amount of sarcasm put into that one phrase seemed to seemingly drip like an actual physical and tangible substance from the fairly tall individual’s mouth. The blizzard had picked up in full swing, leaving the man stranded out in the despicable tundra. Vincent Vitkas was tired, not in the physical sense, but he was tired nonetheless. He was tired of the snow, the cold, the ice, the town, the island, the people, everything. Coming to the North Blue was a mistake. Nikolai was right; there wasn’t a single person here of any worth, any strength, that he, Nikolai, was alone in terms of strength and valor. Vincent, as strong willed and stubborn as he was, would not listen, and choose to pursue the feeling that his gut gave him. How the hell could there not be any strong men on such a God-forsaken island!? Well, is there no one? All the rage inside of him had finally spilled out from inside of him, and from the overflow of who he was, his mouth had finally been let loose. His scream, however, was lost by the howling of the winds, mocking him once more, reminding the orange-haired pirate that nature was the only thing here of any strength. Nikolai was gone and Vincent had lost his reason to stay on this island, but he could not leave so easily.

Trudging his soaked feet through the freshly fallen snow, Vincent sought to return to his little shack and prepare for the storm to pass. He had food and water aplenty, and the shack itself was fairly hidden among the busy hubs and businesses of the town. And with this storm continuing to wreak havoc on the town, no one would be out today, confirmed by the fact that only Vincent seemed to stand out here in the… well, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. The snow, wind, and ice did a great job of placing a veil over his face. Now then, back, left, right, or maybe even straight ahead? Whether he had been walking towards the docks or just in a circle was a mystery to the man, and now he truly began to regret the fact that he had decided to make this venture. “Screw it, this’ll do. I don’t give a flying rip if this is the Marine’s own building.”

Whatever building this was, Vincent Vitkas wasn’t about to make any qualms about it. He was tired of trudging and hoping that his feet would lead him back to his own shelter. Who cares if he would have to deal with the storm and cold? He didn’t, that was for sure. He had his snow-jacket with him, and that was good enough for him. He was tired, remember? But there was something else, almost like numbness. He was tired of being tired, if such a thing could exist. All Vincent wanted to do, in this moment, was to simply stay put, huddled and curled inside his jacket and the fur-lined hood, and wait. Perhaps for the first time, Vincent Vitkas, pirate, conqueror, and wanted man, content to sit still and wait rather than rushing out and simply doing. But still, this was just… nice.

[Harusame]

*SNORE*

"Milky Milky..."

*SNORE*- "Huh?"

Estabon awoke, staring into the flurry of the snowflakes. He sat up and wiped his eyes. For a moment, he didn't realize where he was. Looking around he felt confused and lost. But then something clicked in his mind and he remembered. This was the shack he had found. Somehow, he survived and had slept a good bit. His mind was now relaxed but he was still cold and thirsty.

*guuuuurglopglop*

He held his stomach and tensed. He hadn't had milk in a long time and his system was feeling uncomfortable. No milk meant no energy. And no energy meant no strength. And sitting here meant eventually dying. Either from hunger, form cold, or..from boredom. With his hand on his chin, he evaluated what he should do. Wait until someone found him? That could be the navy...No, he had to leave this shack. He had to leave and go back to town. He needed food and sitting down wouldn't help his hunger. Of course he had to dodge marines and dodge the local residents, but it would be worth it.

"Guess I gotta get some food."

Estabon got up and started trudging the opposite direction he came from. Driven by hunger and the feeling of survival, he went on.

[Lord Bromosalino]

Whether hours or simply seconds passed by, Vincent could hardly tell the difference and so he didn’t bother trying to find out. All he could do, or rather wanted to do, was just sit and wait out the blizzard. Without freezing, of course. A task that was certainly much easier said than done. But with the level of numbness and indifference that Vincent had reached, maybe it was best that he just sat and let his idle mind wander, wander away from everything that happened in the last few weeks, and from everything that had not gone as planned. The whirling and rushing snow that was continuously being whipped up into his face had become nothing more than a nuisance to the man, who probably looked quite strange with his orange hair and blue face. Well, if there was anyone around to see him, that is. But of course, due to the blizzard, not many people were out and about. In fact, Vincent could only make out a few silhouettes here and there, all in the distance. Though, by the shape of the figures, they all seemed to be making their way towards a shelter of some kind. Like the young pirate intentionally thought, not many people were very keen on being stuck in a blizzard of this magnitude.

Time passed, and one person had even walked past Vincent and, he could only guess, gave him a queer look as he wondered why any person would just sit outside during such inhospitable conditions, even if he was wearing a hooded-jacket. Fortunately, the stranger continued with his own business, rushing and pushing through the knee deep powder. And so, Vincent was left alone once more, his thoughts serving as his only company. It was there and then that the aimless wandering of his mind rested upon a single question; what was a pirate? The question seemed to beg Vincent to really search himself, disregarding any shallow answer. No, there was more, there had to be. Vincent was young, yes, but years before, when he had first made the decision to become a pirate, what compelled him to such a decision? What had forced him to such a rash and unusual decision, especially considering the man’s background?

Vincent Vitkas was, after all, the son of Charles Vitkas, a Marine of the G1 Marine Base, Captain Rank. The man was, in all reality and in every way, no joke when it came down to his character and skill. And though the two Vitkas men had had a falling out prior to Vincent’s departure to Karate Island, a decision that would lead him to this moment and now eight years since he had seen his family, Vincent couldn’t help but hold some degree of respect for his old man. His mother, a Marine nurse, too had her ‘little boy’s’ love as well. So why, why did you become a pirate!? That was the question that continued to swell inside of Vincent, screaming, pleading, needing an answer. Was it simply to go out and conquer, to take whatever he wanted? Well yes, that was certainly a part of it. But, was that it? Surely not, for even within the Marines, conquering and taking was an underlining part of who the Marines were. Then what was it? As cliché as it seemed, it really was the freedom that came. Unlike those who did it for adventure, however, it was the freedom that came in the form of a challenge that appealed so much to Vincent. Adventure was, and always was, just a byproduct that came with it. Yes, it was the challenge, to be the underdog and to rise above everything else, and then, only then, to take what was and always was his. The question, now then, was had Vincent lost that drive, that overwhelming desire to overcome any obstacle? Reluctantly, and with some frustration, Vincent had to concede that in the darkest and deepest parts of himself, he had.

Pushing himself upright, though a good deal of time was spent keeping himself steady on his tired legs, Vincent’s toothy smile flashed in the midst of the dying storm. There was a cure for Vincent, he simply needed a challenge. He was going to hunt down Thatcher, if for no other reason than to beat him into a bloody pulp for screwing everything up.

The new motivation seemed to spur life back into the orange-haired pirate, and even nature seemed to back him up, the blizzard calming down to nothing more than a light snow falling by this time. All that was left was for Vincent to gather his things, steal a ship, figure out where the hell Thatcher was, and finish it. Sounds simple enough, right? Yes, if it wasn’t for the whole steal a ship and find/beat Thatcher thing. Still, with a reaffirmed conviction, Vincent’s mind wasn’t on those small details; his mind had been switched to the ‘go’ setting. With the elements around him calmed down from their previous frenzy, Vincent was able to easily find his way back to his little shack, though making his way back took some time as people were starting to move out in number once more. But, eventually, he made it, only to stop outside the door, hesitating. Something wasn’t right, the door was open. Vincent was too careful to leave them open, could he have been found? No, whoever might be looking for him wouldn’t have been so careless. Something wasn’t right. What was going on?

[Harusame]

"D-damn town, w-why'd you have to b-be so f-far."

Estabon finally reached the borders, after a freakishly cold trudge through the white blankets they called snow. His skin felt like it wasn't there. In fact, he was tempted to check if he was just bones and organs right now, walking to town. With a half-hearted sigh of relief, he entered the town. All around civilians bustled and laughed, with no worries or difficulties. It sickened his stomach, which churned with envy and sorrow. He was a bit jealous of their freedom, but he also felt bad they didn't understand life for what it was. What it could be. It was a sad sight to watch, so he lifted his hoodie over his head and hid his face. His objective was to get some food, and he would do that. For a while, it seemed he was in the clear. No marines, no civilians recognizing his face. He was so close to a shop he knew, that is until he heard a familiar voice.

"That Estabon, leaving the marines cuz' he thinks we are 'unjustifiable.' What a smart-ass. Tried to talk me into it right before he left. I thought it was a bunch of baloney, Gahahahaha!"

"Did you tell him that?"

"Nah. Let the little lad think what he wants, I don't care."

Estabon felt hurt. That was the voice of his fellow marine and so-called friend. Fredrick used to listen to whatever Estabon said and would encourage him. But right now, the former-marine realized he was only nice to him because of Estabon's father. Just because your father is a marine, you don't get actual respect. He realized he had gotten pity respect. Like respect passed down from father to son. It was unreal, unsatisfying, cold even. He trudged up to the corner and got a glimpse of his old pal. The one that 'liked' him. He decided listening to their conversation could benefit in some way. Without a sound, he loitered on the wall and acted like he was just resting. This would be interesting.

"Well Fredrick, let's see what you have."

[Lord Bromosalino]

What was going on? Someone had definitely been here. There was no way that it was Vincent Vitkas himself who had left the door open in such a careless manner.

Wait a minute, wasn't it Vincent who just a moment ago decided that he needed a challenge of some sort? Hell if there were Marines or Bounty Hunters in there, well that'd be just fine with him; they could potentially give the 'newly resurrected' pirate the test he needed to check just how motivated he really was. No more hiding about in the shadows, whatever was in there would earn his fury and wrath. Head raised, shoulders squared, and his confidence soaring, the wanted orange-haired pirate pushed aside the flimsy door, stepping directly into the center of the small room with a single stride.

...

Nothing? Then what was... they must have been here before, that was it. Someone was here, of this Vincent was beyond sure. But who was it?

Sniff, sniff

He could definitely pick out another smell outside of his own, all thanks to his zoan fruit. Nose raised high into the air, the now transformed human into jaguar began to pace the room, smelling the floor, chair, and desk. It was the floor, specifically near the entrance, that the smell was the strongest. It was here that the the smell was prominent and Vincent, while in his Jaguar form, was able to pick it out; coffee. Interesting smell, but it did give Vincent these two little clues: he had not met this person before and this person, as far as the situation was concerned, was working alone. The smell was stretched out, in a sense, like the person that had been in here had been laying stretched out on the floor. Sleeping? Maybe, but that only begged the question; how long had Vincent been away in that storm? The possibility of this person being lost and blindly stumbling into the shack by pure chance during the storm was there, but with the remoteness of the shack, it was a small chance.

Hm, what to do now? While he had gained a slight amount of knowledge about this person, it wasn't enough for him to just go out there and track this person down. Even assuming that Vincent could walk around town in his jaguar form, which he very well couldn't do, what would he do then? Just punch whoever it was and ask them what the hell they were doing in his shack? As if, that was the un-needed attention that Vincent was looking to avoid. Let's see, he could wait, right? But there was always the chance that they would bring reinforcements and overwhelm him with numbers. What to do, what to do?

Eventually, after a few moments of pondering the possible outcomes and different scenarios, Vincent decided he'd wait, but not in the shack, somewhere outside where he could see the person approaching but they wouldn't be able to see him. The roof of his shack? Well, he could dig under the snow that had fallen there, but he'd prefer not to. That alley to the left was probably a bit to accessible and Vincent wasn't one to be bottle-necked in any way. Maybe there? It really wasn't the best choice, but he'd be concealed the best with a pretty darn good view. The place in question was the rooftop of a fairly close by building, one that he could reach easily reach with a little bit of effort. The stone material used for the building provided natural handholds and footholds, and within no time at all, Vincent was able to make up to the roof. Crouched, white hood pulled over his distinctive orange hair, Vincent waited. Would the person come back? And if they did, who the heck were they?

[Harusame]

[/color] His ears perked up as he heard this. Estabon had totally forgotten about his old friend. He remembered when a seaman came to report his comrades betrayal. And, he recalled the feeling. He didn't feel sorry or remorseful for not stopping Vincent or hunting him down. He felt envious of his pals freedom. Many would say pirates are sad and depressed and restraint since they are hunting down constantly. But from this marines perspective, the sea dogs were even more so free than the law. Estabon had met countless pirates, and most of them had a smile on their face. Even when they were surrounded, probably eight to two hundred they would laugh. They did what they wanted when they wanted ad it no one could stop their fun.

"Those two were never destined to stay in the marines. I guess they were born to betray the law. It disgusts me to think they became pirates. Pirates. Not even bounty hunters. I mean, how could you hunt down something for so any years then join it?"

"I dunno what went through the scallywags heads but what's done is done."

Estabons brows furrowed. And he asked a question himself. How could you be so happy bitch.[/justify][/font][/ul]

[Lord Bromosalino]

Confounded snow. That’s it, it was decided. If…no, when Vincent got of this island, he’d never set foot on a damn snow, ice, cold island again! Seriously, this was just getting to the point where it was not even annoying anymore; it was so much more than that. There was such an intense hatred for this island, so much in fact that it transcended just the weather. It was the people, the events of the last month, everything about this island. It really was time to leave this island, for good. No more waiting around, no more hiding in the shadows until his opportunity had passed; the time to act was now. So then, what was his move? Vincent really didn’t need anything more than a simple fishing boat to traverse the North Blue. After all, he had done it before in nothing more than a little row boat, a dingy that was hardly in any shape to cross from one island to the other. It could be done, as long as there was a will, a fire. And believe you me, Vincent Vitkas had that fire back now.

Thud

The snow and powder down below cushioned the man’s fall, quieting any potential sound. There was nothing for it; Vincent might as well make his move now. Lieutenant Thatcher was gone; sailing off somewhere to transport Nikolai to some Marine prison. Ensign Junpei wouldn’t be much of a problem, especially if he was still nursing his wounds. The storm had already passed through, also, leaving a gentle powder to fall over the island. It was really a wonder that anyone could survive in this frozen hell, or even want to stay here for that matter.

White, lanky fingers tapped an equally pale and frozen chin. The dull green eyes that had had no fire or life in them had returned to their normal vibrant look. Vincent was ready…well as soon as he decided on a course of action that was. “Ah, forget it. Just head to the docks. Whatever happens, happens. Right?” Sore feet pushed through the snow, and the going was certainly slow. Every few steps ended with Vincent stuck in the snow, at least up to his waist. Good thing he had the snow jacket. Things would have really been a pain in the…well, anyway. He had the jacket, and for that he was at least grateful. One step, find his footing, next step. Time and time again, Vincent pushed himself through the slushy mess, though it really was tiring work. Still, once he reached the inner parts of the town, the going would be easier.

“Ahh tatata. That was close!” A sudden gust of wind had nearly knocked the fur lined hood off of his head, revealing his blazing orange hair, an instant give away to the fugitive of the island. Tightening the two strings that hung down from the hood, Vincent continued moving towards the docks, confident that his face was hidden well enough. The docks would be busy, with the storm having died down and all. The busy hum-drum of the docks would ensure, or at least the wanted pirate hoped, that Vincent’s presence would go unnoticed, for the most part. It was time to leave this god forsaken island.

[Deleted]

Eventually, after a few moments of pondering the possible outcomes and different scenarios, Vincent decided he'd wait, but not in the shack, somewhere outside where he could see the person approaching but they wouldn't be able to see him. The roof of his shack? Well, he could dig under the snow that had fallen there, but he'd prefer not to. That alley to the left was probably a bit to accessible and Vincent wasn't one to be bottle-necked in any way. Maybe there? It really wasn't the best choice, but he'd be concealed the best with a pretty darn good view. The place in question was the rooftop of a fairly close by building, one that he could reach easily reach with a little bit of effort. The stone material used for the building provided natural handholds and footholds, and within no time at all, Vincent was able to make up to the roof. Crouched, white hood pulled over his distinctive orange hair, Vincent waited. Would the person come back? And if they did, who the heck were they?


And so now, in another déjà vu like manner, Vincent ‘Wildcat’ Vitkas, the monster of Ice Nin, the five-million Beri bounty head, terror of all who came across him, the orange destroyer of Marines… was sitting in the dampness and coldness of the abandoned shack that was currently operating as his home. The feeling was quite nostalgic. Only a short period of time had passed since that meeting, roughly a month or so. That meeting was, of course, the fateful encounter between Nikolai and Vincent. That day, too, was another stormy day like today; though, nothing could compare to the storm of that day. The intensity was unreal, though Vincent liked to think that he himself was toughening up to the cold. That day, also, led Vincent to hole up in a small shack like cabin. Ah, if only Vincent had a few bottles of that fiery spirited drink that led to such a beautiful bond between the two men. However, for all of his wishing, the orange haired, wanted man had nothing but a flask of bone chilling water. Irony sucked, huh?