Blue Suit Blues, Adventure on the Isle of Ice!

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Heyyyyy!

Hmmm if only I could find the ship captain.

HEyyyyy!!

He’d take me somewhere better than this place...

HEYYYYY!!!

Hmm.

Rubbing his weary eyes the land bound sailor slowly gazed upwards, his eyes wanting to return to the brochure he held in his hand, Marineford looked lovely this time of year. A man of senile age hunched over him, his decrepit frame blocking out the sunlight that Bastiaan (the name of this moseying Marine) had quite come to enjoy during his short time parked upon this fruit crate which despite first appearances was quite easy on the buttocks. Stretching his legs out in the most dignified way possible to relieve the cramps he had built up while engrossed in his read Bastiaan gave the man who had garnered his attention a good look over before deciding he was no one of importance and returning to his read.

“HEY I’M TALKING TO YOU!”
SLAP!
“Kids these days...”

The man who wanted attention was not so gentle this time round giving Bastiaan a thwack on the cap for ignoring his efforts. Bastiaan who was neither amused by the turn of events nor particularly happy about the man’s physical attitude but nonetheless decided the give him the time of day.

“Sorry sir, it’s just an interesting read is all.”

He stated holding up his brochure which the man then took giving it a good eyeing over. He had pale skin this man, just like the rest of the people on the island, and fair blonde hair which could be argued to be more grey than anything. Standing in loose shorts and a t-shirt with a pair of open-toed sandals he looked more like he was going to the beach than doing his daily rounds in this fridge box of a place.

“Hmm... Marine are ya lad?” he said breaking out into a large grin.

“Well... I guess I am now, just enlisted a few weeks ago.”

“Aye, you look like the type. Anyway I’m here to deliver a note.”

“What about?”

“See for yourself lad!”

Handing a confused looking Bastiaan a rugged brown envelope that looked like it had been used one too many times the man turned and went on his way without a goodbye, simply a renewed spring in his step as he went to tell his mates about the foreigner wandering about town with a face paler than the whole of Ice-Nine.

Getting a feel for the new object of intrigue Bastiaan ran the envelope through his fingers feeling the coarseness of the paper that felt more like card and the frayed damp edges which conjured up the thought of a blocked writer chewing the edge for inspiration about how they should phrase this obviously important message. Opening the envelope and taking a glance at the letter this image quickly fled from Bastiaan’s mind.

UR CLOTHES WON’T BE READE FUR ANOTHER FEW DAYS MATE!
TURNS OUT THE DYES HARDER TO GET OUT THAN WE THOUGHT, HAHA!
YOU’L HAVE TO MAKE DO TO TILL THEN,
<3 B.B
(Big Bertha)

Ugghhh... Why must this woman continue to screw me over. Big Bertha, the owner of the Luv Me Clothes Laundromat and Cleaner Service was reputed to be the best clothes cleaner in the whole of Ice Nine, turns out she’s the only clothes cleaner in Ice-Nine. Most people prefer to do their own but how was a foreigner like Bas to know? So when he left his clothes with the plus-sized woman with a guarantee of freshness why would he have thought anything of it? It was only later when he returned did he find out she wasn’t the bee’s-knees she appeared to be, she can’t even see her knees! This leads to Bastiaan’s current predicament, his clothes even his bloody cap have been changed, no longer the suave mellow purple they used to be his clothes, his iconic set have been dyed every shade of blue under the sun. Cerulean, sky blue, dark blue, powder blue, you name it his clothes are a shade of it. Now the colour of a multicultural swimming pool Bastiaan has been stuck on this island waiting for his primary wardrobe to fixed, all the while he has been bored out of his skull due to the lack of Marine Base on the island, no base means no superior officers and no superior officers means no assignments. It really was a dull place Ice-Nine, even with the lack of a Marine Base the island was constantly swarming with home-grown defenders which put even the most stalwart pirates off.

I hate my life. Ever since coming here I’ve had the worst of luck and now I can’t even leave...

I should have just taken my leave at Marineford...

And with that he returned to looking at his brochure, well he tried to until he realised he’d been relieved of it. That sneaky old codger hadn’t given it back. Gripping his sword in frustration Bastiaan did what any self-respecting man would do in this situation, he screamed like a bat out of hell.

“AGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHGGGGGGHHFFFHHH!”

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The waters of the north seemed relatively calm and peaceful; not even the smallest sign of Pirate like activity. The small Marine vessel gently floated upon the well controlled waves effortlessly. It was said this ship was heading straight for the island known as Ice-Nine. Famous for it's winter-esque sport activities all while remaining infamous for the unrelentless icy winter embrace of mother nature. However, The young Marine thought nothing about this cold or these winter games. Honestly, he didn't even really want to be stationed upon such a hellish hunk of land mass. But, from the intel floating around the ship like some type of phantom. It seemed one of the Marine captains specifically ordered for him to take the long journey to Ice-Nine. "Fu*k, yo! This blows!" Ezekiel shouted from the top bunk; doing what it is that he does best; absolutely nothing. The male resided in one of the many bedrooms scattered upon the ship. In this room resided four other Marines who had no other choice but to listen to this excessive complaining. "Do you believe one of the Captain's has it out for you, Zeke?" The man on the opposing bunk asked; his voice drenched in a heavy coat of curiosity.

Held firmly within Ezekiel's right palm was a palm-sized rubber ball. The male lazily tossed the toy up and down; constantly catching it within the same hand as his eyes aimlessly stared at the ceiling out of sheer boredom and displeasure. "Of course I do. I'm not exactly 'number one Marine' now am I? I wouldn't be surprised if Captain Fredrick gave the order. Fuc*in' di*k. Makes it his life goal to torture the sh*t outta' me." The four others fell silent to such hostile words; they couldn't believe Ezekiel would say such things, and so freely at that. The male on the bed under Ezekiel spoke yet again, "Fredrick is a good man. You'd be wise to respect him, Zeke." Ezekiel couldn't help but miss the next descending throw; the rubber ball grazing the side of his arm as it rolled down the mattress, bounced four times upon the wooden floor, and rolled out into the hallway. Ezekiel rose his upper body off the plump white pillow and throw his head over the railing; looking directly down at the Marine below him.

"Dafu*k I look like respecting a man such as himself. Fredrick is the damn impediment to the word coward, weakling, and power hungry jackass. That last one was three words, but you're catchin' my drift!"

He hopped out of the top bunk and came to a well controlled bouncy landing. "He may be a 'good man', but there's a very very very fine line between justice and pride. Most of these Marine chumps gladly exchanged their pride for 'justice'. Not me; fu*k that! So, until Freddy boy starts actin' like a real man. He can go choke on a di---...." One of the other Marines interrupted Ezekiel, "Enough... We get it, Zeke. Still, you shouldn't say such things... You yourself are an Marine after all." Ezekiel cackled something furious as the ship came to an abrupt stop; it seemed they have finally reached their destination. "You're right; it's the cabin fever, what can I say? We all have our different interpretation on the word 'justice'. So may the one with best one make it to the top and actually make a difference." And with that, The young Marine departed from the cabin and made his way to the main deck. But, before doing so, he changed into the proper wear to cope with the unyielding weather condition of Ice-Nine.

We have reached our destination, I repeat. We have reached our destination!

Popping out from behind the door, Ezekiel rushed over to the front of the deck, leaped upon it's frosty metal surface and eyed the island that was indeed Ice-Nine. The other Marines didn't pay this much mind; for it's Ezekiel, and he does stuff similar to this on the daily. Whenever he exhaled, he could clearly see the carbon dioxide drifting upwards above his head before dissipating into nothing. The young Marine wore a warm big red puffy jacket, mittens, ear warmers, black baggy shorts, and the traditional samurai clogs. Leaping from the edge, he landed directly on the port and behind a few of his brothers in arms. Placing both arms around the shoulders of the Marines on both sides of him, Ezekiel put on a smile and asked one simple question.

"So, who's ready to go pick up some chicks?"

They said nothing and merely laughed. Suddenly, one type of banshee-esque shirk overtook the entire port. Luck was indeed in Ezekiel's favor; the ear warmers blocked most of the shrill shirk, but it was still rather annoying to say the least. Placing his eyes upon the source of the sound, he spoke.

"OI, SHUT UP!"[/style][/td][/tr][/table]

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Damn... I didn’t know I could do that. Looking around slowly to see if he had attracted any attention Bastiaan was met with a few dozen confused looks from the patrons of the dock, all of them had a hint of worry in their eyes as they turned and quickly went on their business not wanting to be seen in the company of a pale-faced banshee. Bas let out a weak cough in a pathetic attempt to pass off his outburst as nothing more than him trying to clear his throat. It didn’t work and he sheepishly pulled his cap further down his face in an attempt to cover up his reddening visage. Why did I have to do that? Can’t I just deal with these things internally like any normal person...? I hope no one important saw that...

"OI, SHUT UP!"

Fuuuuc.... Bastiaan thought as he heard the first vocal complaint to his outburst, surely more were to follow. He looked around taking in all the sights around him, every god damn sight apart from the complainer in question. Now that he looked at it the docks of Sleet Town were actually quite nice, a bit repetitive but nice nonetheless. As far as the eye could see there were buildings of brick, red and circular, some bigger than others but all of them selling different wares. Some sold household utensils; some sold pygmy polar bears, it really was a place to find anything (well apart from a decent adventure). Bastiaan almost became too absorbed in his findings, momentarily forgetting about his current predicament; luckily the words of another observer drew him back into reality.

“For god’s sake Zeke we’ve just got off the bloody ship! Don’t go making trouble already!”

“Uhhh yeah he’s right Zeke, try and behave yo-self for once man.”

Casually turning around in an attempt not to draw another round of unwanted attention Bastiaan looked at the men standing just a few feet away from him. Two were dressed in standard winter uniform, both obviously Marines, both fairly well built and of a fairly pale complexion who didn’t look any different from your standard average grade recruit but, the man in the middle of the pair was an entirely different creature. Fairly skinny but wearing a big puffy jacket (not standard issue) and samurai clogs he looked well out of the ordinary. The most obvious conclusion would be that he was on leave like Bastiaan himself given his clothing but judging by his formally dressed companions this didn’t seem the case, not that it especially mattered what he was wearing at all. Bastiaan himself didn’t favour red, he was a purple guy. Maybe he’s of rank given his choice of clothes... Or maybe he’s not a Marine at all. Still they mentioned a ship, a Marine ship at that looking at those two. Maybe this could be my way off this island.

Re-adjusting his cap and placing his hand on his sword he started to walk towards to the trio trying to look as gentlemanly as possible in the process. Stopping about a foot away from them he addressed the group with the full intent of making a fine first impression.

“Hello comrades, what brings you to these cold waters? I’m wondering if I might have a word with you chaps and might I say that’s a lovely jacket young sir.”

Quickly flashing a salute and a muted smile he turned and walked back to his crate, deftly moving a few more just lying around into a rudimentary circle before returning to his seat himself. He made a patting motion on one crate adjacent to him, a signal for them to come and sit with him. Bastiaan the charmer that he was found his plan most ingenious, he was appearing as what one more socially inclined would call the ‘ultimate acquaintance’. Ultimate acquaintance, I like the sound of that. I wonder if the head office will let me put that on my CV? Returning back to the real world Bastiaan looked at the still vacant seats beside him, maybe his new ‘friends’ hadn’t understood his covert signal. Whatever the case it seemed a more vocalised instruction was needed.

“Sirs we can talk here if you like, please come and take a seat.”

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Pretty apparent the two other Marines didn't fancy the little outburst that came from Ezekiel. It's not like he cared, however; honestly, he never cared for such minor inconveniences. With that being said, the young Marine still couldn't let such words go unacknowledged. So, with two swift hands, Ezekiel found himself slapping both of his brothers in arms upside the head. "You do realize who you're talkin' too, right?" The young Marine asked; pulling in the other two Marines closer in a whispering-esque voice. "I don't start trouble, trouble starts me. It's the Ying to my Yang, the peanut-butter to my jelly. The A to my B." He couldn't help but exhale a jolly cackle as the witty and clever analogies left his person. The other two Marines laughed a little as well; leave it to Ezekiel to make the best out of a messed up situation. "Now, about picking up those chicks. I suggest we hit up the local bar or markets. Females flock around those places like geese, ya' know?" Still whispering, the other two Marines simply nodded as they humored Ezekiel and listened closely to the game-plan.

Oddly enough, the trio of Marines paid no mind to the approaching male. Even when he spoke they didn't notice; they were to busy doing their own thing at the moment. "First things first. We need to ditch the squad, yo. People are lookin' for any chance they can get to snitch on me." The Marine suspiciously eyed around the immediate area. It seemed the other Marines no longer held any interests in this dock. So they began migrating someplace else; probably towards the islands local Inn. Ezekiel looked back at the other two Marines who he held in tight headlocks and spoke yet again; still whispering as if another was eavesdropping. "Alright, they seem to be doing their own thing, so we should too. Lets head out, fella's." He spoke, pointing in the direction of an near by and narrow alleyway. The two Marines tiptoed towards the alleyway while Ezekiel gave lookout; whistling something catchy and avoiding eye contact with just about everyone that passed him. Suddenly, he heard it; the talking of yet another male. This one coming from a small distance and over by some empty crates. With a rose eyebrow, the young Marine looked over in the direction and spoke.

"What? Oi, do I know you, bro?"

As Ezekiel pondered over this thought, the hushed sound of whistling came from the alleyway. This whistle coming from the other two Marines and indicating that they safely made it out of sight without getting noticed. Ezekiel cackled, looked at the mysterious stranger on the crates, and strolled off in the direction of the alleyway; the samurai clogs upon his feet making a very subtle sound at the climax of each step he took.

"Actually, hold that thought. I have other business to attend to, later, bro."[/style][/td][/tr][/table]

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Weird, it seems these Marines have no sense of direction. After having a little group talk between themselves and being released from the headlock the puffy maybe-Marine put them in they started to head towards an alleyway the complete opposite direction from Bastiaan’s makeshift arrangement but not before exchanging a mischievous look with each other. Whatever they were planning to do Bas wanted no part in it and he was actually quite relieved that he had spotted these mischief makers so early, he wouldn’t want to be seen socialising with such people. No he only wanted to get on their ship and for that task he only needed to charm an officer like the one possibly standing before him. The way he handled his men, Bastiaan had decided, made him look quite the authoritative figure especially as he saw no obvious complaints to this treatment. An iron hand is the best way to discipline the soldiers under your command says Bastiaan’s academy instructor and Bas was in no position to disagree with the statement, it certainly seemed effective in this instance.

As his underlings started to creep towards to their objective, the alleyway, the commanding figure in question started to fully take in his surroundings, his eyes sweeping buildings and glancing over Bastiaan as if he wasn’t even there. He had an almost serious look on his face like he was seeing something that wasn’t there. Maybe he was looking for someone in particular. A hidden sniper, an assassin in the crowd the possibilities were endless! All this covert activity and observation intrigued Bastiaan. Could there be something going on that he didn’t know about? He hadn’t yet recognised the red jacketed man’s face yet but if this was really something serious then maybe it showed his skill that he couldn’t be recognised. Now the man had Bastiaan’s full attention and it seemed Bastiaan had finally garnered his.

"What? Oi, do I know you, bro?"

The hell is this. Bastiaan was dumfounded that not only had the man (who now seemed greater than he first appeared) addressed him directly but that he had addressed him in such a crude and unrefined manner. This man really was a mystery. He was either really laid back or Bastiaan had severely misjudged his character but regardless the man most likely wanted an answer to his none rhetorical question. As he started to open his mouth another revelation hit Bastiaan, maybe he was undercover. Acting the part of a rude, crude Marine is the perfect cover to slip into an island undetected especially one like this which is so welcoming to the Marine core. The only thing that had given him away was the covert action of his comrades which to be fair wasn't really his fault. Only somebody like Bastiaan who was paying close attention to the group would have noticed that. A brief look of smugness spread over Bastiaan’s face, Damn I’m good, before he returned to his standard tight lipped look of neutrality.

Just when the words that would reveal whether the man knew this bro or not were about to roll of Bas’s tongue a muffled whistle caught his attention and that of the man to as they both looked to see where the sound was coming from. The samurai clogged Marine let out a cackle like someone had just told him a joke that only he had gotten the punch line of before giving Bastiaan in all his blue glory a final look over then turning towards his subordinates and strolling off towards them, his clogs making a familiar sound every step he took.

"Actually, hold that thought. I have other business to attend to, later, bro."

Oh shit he’s getting away. The man had really left an impression on Bastiaan and he wasn’t going to let him slip through his figures so easily, especially when he could provide a way off this iceberg of an island. Standing up and patting down the back of his trousers in an attempt to get as much dirt off as he could that had accumulated while he was sat on the crate Bastiaan then checked his blade for any marks, he had a feeling he’d need to use it by the end of the day, and started after the man staying quite a distance away though, he didn’t want to appear suspicious and get caught by the Marine before he had a chance to explain himself. This would a great chance to follow in his masters footsteps and launch himself into Marine stardom. This is why he must follow the man, learn his secrets and help him save the day. Besides,

Headhunters never lose their targets.

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