Making A Scene (WW Epilogue)

[Aubs]

The cool sea air was wafting over the deck of their ship. Beside him stood his ever faithful yet estranged First Mate Justin. His friend stood a bit shorter than himself, dressed in his usual black peat coat and blue jeans. His tan cowboy boots were poking out just beneath the cuff of his pants, and the bottom of his yellow sash was sticking below the fringe of his well-worn coat, the jolly roger of the crew visible just barely. That low riding hat he had become known for was covering his haunted eyes, while the bandoleer across his chest gave him yet another eerie trait. “It’s almost time Captain, are you ready?”

“I hope so, we only have one chance at this Justin.”

“Don’t worry Aubrey, if anyone is crazy enough to make this work, it’s us.”

SPLASH

Arms slashing out in front of him, Captain Aubrey Meador of the fledgling White-Wing Pirates jumped out of his bed with a start. Breathing heavily the scene came to him slowly as things blurred into place. He was in his room, the former captain’s quarters of the ship they had stolen, the Flight, made by their own Sean Simpson. And before him stood the one and only Justin Weeks, his Marine turned traitor first mate who looked much less impressive than he had just moments before in the dream Aubrey had been having. Our hero tried to swat at his friend once more as his voice came back to him, hoarse at first.

“What, what do you want that was so important?”

Needless to say he was less than impressed with the answer he received…

---

Now fully dressed Mr. Meador stood outside on the main deck of his ship. The sun was high enough that it was near midday and the air was fresh enough to mean that they were well at sea by now. Their Navigator assured them that it would not be far between this island and the last. Little did they know how valuable that would be for them. A few of Aubrey’s esteemed crew were present also, most notably the man standing next to him, once again Justin. Donner “The Cannon” Vark was also a few feet away, fiddling with one of the new cannons that had been fitted onto the ship before the left Saisho a day or so before. Donner was still a bit sore from their adventure there but his mind was working at normal pace from the looks of the adjustments he was making to the bore sights on the impressive weapon. Marius “Cross” Ozera sat on his little perch as well, right at the bow of the ship looking out at the water’s vast reach in front of them. Marius had been with Aubrey since the beginning of his pirate adventure only a month or so ago, but in that small amount of time he had proven himself to be a man of immense skill and character. Where the others were our hero had only guesses, like Ren at his wheel and Kallie still napping. But for now he had more than enough story to cover as the crew past the time between this island and the next, that is to say what time they had before Aubrey sprung the next piece of his master plan on them. It wasn’t the brightest idea he had ever had but it did seem like something his unique crew would enjoy.

“So Justin, just what they hell happened with Babet, all I saw was an explosion.”

---

Unknown to our little crew of misfits, the scene was changing around them quickly. The report had gone up to the Vice Admiral in command of part of the Peace Route that the White-Wings had attempted to take over Enko no Saisho by inciting a rebellion amongst the marines and slaughtering citizens. By all accounts it was a disaster, sinister and terrible (and horribly embarrassing for the Marines). The Wings didn’t know that they had been blamed for the event, meaning they didn’t know just what was coming for them. You see, the Peace Route was supposed to be impenetrable. For all of the safeguards that protected the world that were based on this route, from blockades to many marine islands, World Government research facilities and famous kingdoms completely loyal to the government, there was also the combined arms of the Marine bases to account for. Three of those bases, specifically from the islands of Saisho, Arabara and Veldesh were all overstocked with Marines whose mission it was to protect the beginning of the Peace Route, all within a day or two of eachother. This strategy, called the Net was a quickly deployed blockade of ships meant to stop all sea-traffic until the threat had passed. Before long a line of ships full of Marines would seal off the way forward and screen every ship that sought to pass. And this plan had just been activated, for the first time in years. The Wings needed to slip past it before all of the pieces were set. However, Aubrey had other plans.

They didn’t know who was in charge of Babet, and they didn’t know why they wanted to take over that island. So, as far as he was concerned someone was out there pushing around the people, and he wasn’t going to have it. But as he had always planned, in order to bring the people to arms they would need a symbol, or at least a martyr. That’s where Aubrey came in, and his next move would have to be bold enough that the attention really turned onto him. He would play the distraction of a lifetime, and it would work, it just had to.

But first he would have to survive the knives coming from him, many he didn’t even know about. Pirates didn’t come onto the Peace Route, so the fact that his little band was made them the perfect scapegoats for the darkness that was only hiding in the corners of this place. Even if they were really just small fish in a big sea, the White-Wings were now in the middle of a churning storm that had been waiting for something to attack for years.

And Aubrey only wanted to make it worse.

---

[Weeks]

As Justin walked into the Captains quarters, bucket of seawater in hand, he had a look of disgust on his face. Aubrey had been sleeping for long enough, injured or not. Justin was sick of picking up the slack as acting Captain, it was about time Aubrey actually did something as Captain rather than sleep. The Captain seemed to be dreaming peacefully, a stupid smile on his face as he pulled the blanket closer.

Feeling no regret whatsoever about what he was about to do, Justin flung the bucket over Aubrey, a great splash pouring over every inch of the bed and soaking into the mattress and sheets with ease. Aubrey in turn flung around, hopelessly trying to hit Justin any place he could, yet all the first mate had to do was step back and let his friend’s tantrum subside.

“What, what do you want that was so important?”

Justin was already steamed, and the comment certainly did not help his temper at that moment as he crossed his arms defiantly.

“I still have glass shards in my ass from the fight with Babet, now get up before I throw you overboard.”

It took Aubrey a moment to cloth himself, seeming to be a bit dizzy from the slosh of seawater that had so brilliantly been placed on every inch of his body. This of course pleased Justin, he felt no shame in it, knowing that he was most likely the only person on the ship besides Kali who could get away with something so recklessly impulsive.

Aubrey may have taken his sweet time in getting dressed, but Justin had been up for hours now, making good use of his new wardrobe that he had bought in Enko no Saisho. A black Pea Coat, perfectly fitted to the young man so as to broaden his shoulders and perhaps make him look slightly taller and most notably, less skinny than he was worn proudly. Under this he wore a white dress shirt. His pants were a pair of boot cut navy blue jeans, and since he had simply forgotten to buy new footwear, he had simply put on his black Marine boots. He had left his weapons in his room, with simply no need for them at the moment.

Once outside, Justin made for his smokes, quickly reaching into his inside coat pocket to pull out his pack and lighter. He took a deep drag, feeling much better than 5 minutes ago, enough that he could react normally now to anything Aubrey said or commanded. Justin had gotten enough revenge for now. The crew had begun to congregate around the captain now, apparently curious as to his condition. Justin however made for the railing of the ship, distancing himself slightly from the herd. No one on the crew seemed to enjoy secondhand smoke as much as he did.

“So Justin, just what they hell happened with Babet, all I saw was an explosion.” Said Aubrey suddenly, Justin’s eyebrows perking up as he heard his name.

For a moment he considered simply quipping another of his smart comments to the Captain, but instead, this time, he relished the opportunity to tell the story.

“You may want to sit down…” he said, taking a deep drag before he began.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I know you.” said the man, his curly smile etched over his pale face.

“No you don’t.” Justin replied, his eyebrow sticking upward questionably.

“Yes I do…your Justin Weeks.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Am not.”

“Justin Weeks, the petty officer.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell…” replied Justin, looking away as if trying hard to remember a name like that.

“Your name is written on your shirt collar.” Babet stated very matter-of-factly.

“…No…” Justin lied.

“Besides, I know your face.”

“No you don’t.” Justin denied yet again.

“Don’t start. Your Shepard’s boy.” Babet insisted, sounding rather annoyed now.

“I aint his boy and you don’t know a god damned thing about me.”

“Justin Weeks, born on Goa Island, one brother, older, Parents are Mike and Lorain.”

“That’s interesting.” said Justin, lunging forward.

The Bayonet of his rifle shimmered in the dawn sunlight, thrusting forward with deadly accuracy and efficiency. The strike was solid, yet Babet has been catlike in his reflexes, his shield of glass causing the blade to ricochet off. He quickly followed up with a forceful punch to Justin’s chest. Though not painful, Justin backed off, for now, content with letting Babet stay out of arms reach.

“Yes it is. Reports said you had been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?!” replied Justin, insulted.

“Yes, and that pirates were holding you for ransom.”

“I came with them of my own accord.”

“So you admit that you’re Justin Weeks.”

“No…I mean…yeah?!” said a flustered Justin.

“As clever as the reports said.” grinned Babet.

"Reports?"

“Oh yes, we’ve had our eye on you for a long time.”

“Who the fuck is we?”

“CP 1.”

“That bunch of baby killers? Heard you guys had a few employee changes after an incident involving a school.”

Babet only smiled a silvery strand of slightly crooked teeth. The streets around them were starting to brighten up, the lamps running out of oil and slowly starting to die. The cobblestones below them were still ice cold from the night, but they would surely be warm to the touch in only a few hours.

“Oh so it’s true? I figured that was just some scuttlebutt. Never figured you guys would off a school full of kids for the ‘greater good’.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that. You presume too much.”

“Not really, the only thing I’m presuming right now is that you’re an asshole.” remarked a now snarky Justin.

“Charming.” Replied Babet, rolling his eyes.

“Well thank you yah skinny prick.” Smiled Justin, tipping his hat.

“You’re failing to see the bigger picture here.”

Babet pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes in frustration as he tried to make his point more clear.

“I don’t think you know who you’re dealing wi-“

Babet was cut short by the heel of Justin’s boot, slamming into the bastards jaw and sending his flying backwards into a brick wall. Babet was stunned, but Justin was instantly surprised by his ability to take a hit. The kick had not been fatal, but Justin took this moment to pull his revolver from its holster, loading a fresh batch of ammo into the wheel.

“Shut up. I hate it when the villain talks too much.”

“Very well.” seethed Babet, picking himself up and dusting off.

The fighting was not instantaneous, but the end of the conversation was. Babet seemed very confident considering he had the body of an accountant. Justin however, knew that his glass making skills would be troublesome. Not only that, but Justin had been awake now for at least 36 hours, and his body was bleeding and tired. He was covered in a black substance, most likely from the explosive force of 25 barrels of gunpowder from the ship battle a day before. Justin was not as his best, let alone the fact that over the last week, he had lost his Geppou and Kami-e. The situation was not ideal.

Regardless, Justin made the first move. He lunged forward yet again Babet coming to meet his attack, his shield slamming into the butt of Justin’s rifle. This time the ricochet was to Justin’s benefit as he criss crossed his feet to put his body into a spin. As his arms whipped around he had a clear shot a Babet’s chest, yet he was prepared, and a long sword of glass erupted from Babet’s clutched fist. The blade of Justin’s rifle slammed against it, and though the glass of glass had been broken, his bayonet sailing past Babet’s evil grin.

In turn, the pale faced accountant shifted his body, slamming the shield against Justin, forcing him back once again. Not giving up, Justin trust his bayonet into Babet once again, but only to have it bounce off, and the whole rifle left his grasp. It flew into a wall, bayonet first sticking out like the perch on a birdhouse.

Babet made a charge forward, a brand new sword already in his hand as he began to slash and jab towards Justin. It was the work of a novice, and Justin was able to shift his weight back and forth, using his feet to maintain distance as he put his dukes up. Bobbing and weaving in a boxer’s fashion, Justin waited for his opening. Out of Babet’s eyesight he quickly stepped forward onto his foot, feeling the cracking sound of at least one toe. Quick with the follow up, Justin planted a forceful Jab into Babet’s Jaw, finally taking that toothy grin from his face.

Stunned, but certainly not out, Babet charged in once again, this time tossing the shield at Justin who caught it. Babet made sweeps at the former Marine’s feet, instead, finding that Justin had made a quick hop up, planted hit feet onto the shield and kicked out at Babet, the force driving home with wreaking ball like force.

Babet flew backwards once again, finding that this time he was able to plant his feet and stay upright. As powerful as the kick has been, his own glass had helped to spread the force of the attack evenly. Not pleased, Babet once again ran forward, this time, two beautifully crafted swords in each hand, overly long, but seeming light as a feather. Babet kept his distance now, out of arms and legs reach of Justin, whom for the moment had been put onto the offensive. With large sweeping motions he kept Justin as bay, but he knew this would never end the battle, it was simply a delay for now. He wasn’t quick enough to know what Justin would do next.

Justin hopped up once again, twisting his body as he did so, kicking each sword away before his body did a three sixty turn. Once back on his feet, and Babet not quick enough to bring his swords to bear once again, Justin made another kick to Babet’s center. It drove home, pushing Babet back once again.

Babet was now visibly frustrated, but certainly not down. Justin was more than surprised to see the skinny man take so much punishment, or was Justin simply this weak? No, the blows had tremendous power behind them, no normal human would ever be able to sustain punches and kicks like this forever, certainly not the way Babet was.

Justin made the charge this time, making for a flying air kick, only to find it his biggest mistake yet. Babet in nearly an instant had formed another great shield of glass, as big as his body with the consistency of a brick wall. The kick into it had tremendous power, but Justin had only managed to put a small crack into its surface before Babet pushed the glass wall over on top of the Sniper. It shattered onto him, our hero able to feel every splinter enter into his body, and the larger shards cut into his flesh like hot knives, then leaving only icy pain in their wake.

“You think I don’t know how you fight?” panted Babet, giving Justin a moment of respite, despite his better judgment.

Justin could do nothing at the moment, only drag himself away from the pile of glass shards.

“I told you, we have been watching you.”

“Sound like group stalking…” he said, picking a shark of glass the size of his hand from his arm.

“Know of a policeman I can report that to?!” he yelled, charging once again, only to find Babet’s hand surrounded with enough glass to dwarf Justin’s head slamming into his stomach.

Justin was down for the count for now, Babet finding enjoyment in tormenting the young man.

“Courier for the Armed Goa Express in your younger days, had a horse called Nipper, sound familiar?” exclaimed Babet, the glass fist sliding off his hand and shattering into several million pieces.

The Former Chief couldn’t breathe for the moment, all he could do was listen, wondering how on earth Babet knew all of these things.

“The horse is only notable because of its particular breed. A Rare Big Plains Mustang from the Red Line, one of the fastest in the world.”

The Sniper on his haunches, gathering as much strength as he could before the next round would begin.

“But you enlisted with the Marines after a certain incident, first as a medic, then into interrogation after you started saving pirates and asking questions during treatment, a bold tactic I might add.”

Babet paced back and forth slowly, his eyes gazing into Justin’s soul as he did so, not even blinking.

“Time and time again you gave us information that picked up notorious pirates all over the east blue. In fact, it decreased high seas crime by no less than five percent in a one year period, just from you.”

“I know.” commented Justin dryly.

“They gave me a medal for it.”

“A steel star with pear center…not bad for basically a new recruit.”

“Who are you?” asked Justin finally.

“Lieutenant Babet, formally CP 1.”

“The hell do you want from me?”

Babet only smiled a toothy grin, now he was getting somewhere.

“Oh it’s not what I want. It’s what I can do for you.”

“Funny…I recall using that line a lot as an interrogator.” said Justin, finally able to get to his feet after his short rest.

“Well this time it’s true.”

“What could you possibly have that I want?”

“Cecelia Marshall.”

Justin felt a tingle of remorse and anger run up his spine, at first very subtle, but the more he thought about it, the less he liked that Babet knew about her. He hated it so much in fact that he couldn’t help but feel his entire body beginning to feel red hot.

“I was planning on telling you about her a long time ago, but that Shepard, he made sure that CP 1 never got close to you. Him and his damned connections.”

“Shut up.” was all Justin could reply.

“She’s on the Grand Line you know.”

“Shut up!”

“Would you like to see her again?”

“I said SHUT UP!”

Intense furry was the only way to describe the anger seething through Justin Weeks at that moment. No amount of pain or sleep deprivation could have stopped him in that moment as he ran at Babet, his speed and strength renewed in almost ad instant. With lightning like speed he made a run at Babet, jumping into the air and slamming his heel into the bastards chest, then his left, then the right again, on and on until Babet had sustained no more than five ultra-quick, ultra-powerful kicks. He was slammed against the wall once again, his grin wider than ever as he watched Justin lunge for the accountant once again.

“What’s the matter Chief? Feeling a bit vulnerable?!” he shouted as he just barley dodged Justin’s kick to his face, watching as the wall around Justin’s foot began to crack.

“DON’T SAY ANOTHER WORD!”

“How about your parents? Are they still struggling to make ends meet on that pitiful little farm with you gone? Or did your alcoholic brother come back to take your place?” mocked Babet, daring the sniper to make the next move.

“You-“

Babet had miscalculated Justin’s speed. In an instant, with pure rage behind every movement, Justin made an overpowering kick to Babet’s chin.

“Don’t-“

And another kick slammed into Babet’s chest, putting him off balance as the wind was knocked out of him.

“KNOW ME!”

And with a quick hop upward, Justin made a flying kick into Babet’s shield, shattering it to bits and sending the prick backward as he slammed into a wall, a great thunk echoing through the streets.

“You don’t know a god damned thing about me, or my life! Don’t you dare to presume to know me you evil fuck! If you say one more word about my family or friends, I won’t even leave a body to find!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Who’s Cecelia?” asked Ponte suddenly, stopping Justin in mid-sentence as he recalled the banter between Babet and himself.
Justin remained silent for a moment, pointing out to the imaginary Babet somewhere in front of Aubrey. Justin had taken to pantomiming the event somewhere in the midst of the story and for the first time he was at a loss for words.

“No one.” he replied flatly, shooting Aubrey a look that wished for him not to speak.

“It was this girl we lived next to for years. Her and Justin had a thing for each other.” commented Sean, a smug grin on his face.

“Dude!” exclaimed Justin, his hands outstretched, the young man looking utterly defeated now.

“Well you did! Everyone knew. She was super cute, played piano.”

“DUDE!”

“Did something happen between you to?” asked Sean, now more interested in the current topic than the conclusion of the story.

Justin remained silent, not making another sound as he leaned back against the railing, shooting his friend a look of disapproval.

“Thanks for interrupting the climax of my story Sean. Maybe you can tell the guys about that time we nearly burned down the school to.” Remarked Justin, his voice full of sarcasm, something Sean never really choose to observe.

Sean opened his mouth to speak, but Justin stopped him with a conclusive “DON’T”.

Marius, more than the rest seemed to understand what Justin was feeling above all the others. Something had happened between the two, something not conclusively bad or good. He was sure that there had been no closure in the relationship for both, and had caused a rift between the two now that they had went their separate ways. He decided to give the First Mate some relief, understanding that this was not something they should be pressing.

“So what happened next?” he asked, letting Justin collect himself as the Sniper lit up another smoke.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Babet lay upon the ground, yet Justin looked on in awe as the pale prick smiled, apparently not feeling the pain that should have been several broken ribs. In fact, Babet seemed to have taken the hit as a sign of his victory. As the accountant of a man picked himself up off the ground, he rubbed his jaw, grinning from ear to ear.

“I know one thing…” he began, pulling his open collared shirt to the side, reavieling everything Justin needed to know about the course of this fight.

“You can’t use Geppou or Kami-e anymore.”

Justin felt his legs shake, he had been duped. From under Babet’s clothing, he could plainly see a thin sheet of glass armor, perfect in its construction and more than likely featherlike in weight. Every hit that Justin had landed on Babet’s chest had been absorbed and deflected enough to keep his opponent safe. Justin was now nearing his limits, and Babet seemed to be ready for a few more rounds. This fight would have to be decided soon, they both knew it.

Justin however was unable to take the initiative this time. Babet was now ready for the killing blow, assured that Justin wouldn’t have any more tricks up his sleeves. As he grinned, the armor under his cloths began to grow, forming over the rest of his body, thickening to the point where it was nearly impossible to make out where the human part of Babet was anymore in the dim light. As Babet grew another foot and his arms became as thick as lamp posts, Justin had no idea of what to do at this point. All he could do now was wait for an opening to exploit, something that he now saw as wishful thinking.

“What’s the matter chief?! Feeling a little exposed?!” mocked Babet, using his right arm to hurl glass orbs at the young man.

Justin dodged easily, keeping his eyes on Babet, but this was not to his benefit. As he heard the glass orbs clinking across the ground, he also heard a crackle, then an explosion, and suddenly he was on his knees, feeling sharp pains all over his legs and back. The orbs, glass grenades as Babet called them, had done their job. Justin could already feel the blood oozing out of his pours slowly as the microscopic fragments imbedded into his flesh, causing lightning bolts to skyrocket all over his nerve endings. Babet made for a lunge, but Justin was still not done, leapfrogging away and tucking into a roll.

“Make this easy on yourself Chief, no need to die in more pain than you are already in!”

Justin had no comeback, and tried to leap away onto the nearest roof, only to find Babets hand smashing against it already, slamming away his footing. Justin fell back to the ground, Babets left arm backhanding him back into the square once again.

“To slow! You running out of steam?”

He was right. Justin could feel every inch of his body feel heavy now. He was already beginning to shut down, but his mind had not yet given up. He made one last effort to escape, knowing now that brute force wouldn’t take down Babet. He needed something to break the weak link in his armor, the man himself. Just as he remembered that the solution was near, Babet lunged forward, grabbing his enemy into a vice like grip, and pulling him upward, Justin’s entire torso pinned from the might force of Babet’s grip.

“You came on the line with a gun and a few above average kicks?! You don’t stand a chance here! Even that steel friend of yours is nothing but a sub-par pirate here!”

Justin tried to retaliate, shaking his body from side to side, trying to slip away, only to find that the armor was razor sharp at the edges. The more he moved, the more he could feel his body cut to ribbons.

“You’re just a pawn in this game and your friend sacrificed you. The game is over, and once I’m done with you, I’ll take care of the rest of your crew.”

“No…” said Justin defiantly.

“YOU WON’T!”

As Justin made one last shake he felt his fingers slip to his holster. In one smooth jerk her pulled his pistol out, using his wrist the flip up the muzzle and target Babet’s arm from underneath. The Revolver banged away in succession so fast that they could hardly be distinguished. The desperate last ditch had worked as he felt his body slip away from Babet’s grip, rolling away on the glass covered ground, causing more pain to ripple up his spine. Babet himself was put off balance as the armor around his right arm fell apart, sending him stumbling to his left.
This would be Justin’s only chance, and he picked himself up as fast as he could sprinting along the glass covered ground for his rifle, still lodged into the wall bayonet first. Freeing it with a single mighty tug he turned on Babet, who still seemed to be trying to right himself after his sudden fall. Justin would give him no respite and he ran at the bastard, holding his rifle over his right shoulder and tossing it like a javelin. Though the bayonet had not been effective against the shield, Babet’s glass seemed to have become more and more brittle throughout the fight, meaning that though his mecha-armor had protected him from harm, it was breaking away slowly but surely. The rifle itself found its mark right dead center in Babet’s chest, pointing out proudly as it waited for it’s master to return. And return he did, grabbing hold of his trusty weapon as he hung from Babet’s chest. Unable to think of an appropriate one line, Justin simply pulled the trigger, the massive bang shattering through Babet’s armor and piercing through his shoulder inside.

The armor itself fell apart almost instantly, and Babet along with it. Undeath a pile of his own glass, he could feel it cutting against his skin. His own armor had been his undoing in the end, yet he felt a hand thrust into the pile, bloody and shaking, pulling him through the cloud of knives. Before he even got a word in he felt a punch smash into his nose, a great crack signaling that it had been broken almost instantly.

“WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT ME BEING A PAWN!?” screamed Justin, picking Babet up by the collar with both hands, only to twist his body and toss him like a rag onto the street.
Babet, his shoulder shot, cuts all over his body, and nose broken lay beaten. Justin could already see him trying to worm away, but it was a fruitless effort, one that Justin was more than willing to exploit. He walked over to the man, limping and fighting the urge to collapse himself. Yet as he made it to him he picked up the defeated lieutenant once again, lifting his feet off the ground.
“Listen here you little shit.” Began Justin, his eyes full of fire.

“You’re going to listen to what I have to say, and then you’re going to tell every person you come across. If there is one thing I’ve learned from this fight it’s that I don’t like people telling me who I am. I decide that for me, not you, or anyone else.”

Justin could feel his legs and arms shake in defiance, the extra weight would not be held for very long, but the adrenaline pumping through his body from the incredible pain was giving him the boost he needed.

“I spent my whole life doing what other people said and it’s been so god damned boring. I like being able to choose where I can go, what I can drink and what I can say, It’s why I didn’t join pricks like you, always nit picking everyone’s good time. So I want you to send them a message for me.”

Justin took a deep breath, feeling beads of blood run down his foreheads as the blood began to seep from out of his hair.

“I’m going to chase every single one of you wearing this uniform and make you wish you had killed me right here. You going to witness the swath of destruction that I leave behind me as I blow up every Government building and every Government ship that I come across. I’ll be known as the destroyer of your world and if you’re smart, that scares you. I’ll get a bounty so high that it will make Roger and Dragon look like a couple of girl scouts, little princesses who sailed little boats in their spare time. You’ll ban the very mention of my name, and that will only make my legend grow.”

He could feel his fingers begin to burn, he would have to finish up soon.

“When you wake up, I want you to come looking for me. And when you do, you better bring the whole fleet, because I want to sink every single one right in front of you and the whole world.”

And with that, Justin was done speaking. He let Babet go, pushing him forward to put some distance between the two. Babet, barely able to stand could only shoot the dirtiest of looks at Justin, holding his shoulder to keep the blood from pouring out, but it was pointless at this point.

With a mighty wind up, Justin pulled his leg back summoning every inch of power he had as his battle cry echoed through the streets, slamming his foot forward into Babet so hard that the man simply disappeared from view. Justin, confused for a moment could have sworn he heard a distinct pop echo through the streets, with a cloud of white smoke wafting out to sea where Babet had once been. With one final triumphant smile, Justin felt his legs buckle, and his body fall to the ground, unable to stand any longer.

[Doc]

"What do you do with a Scurvy Pirate?"
"Load the cannon up and fire it,"
"What do you do with a Scurvy Pirate?"
"Make him walk the PLANK!"

Ren awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed. His breathing was heavy, forced, like he was running a marathon and was fighting to get oxygen. For a brief and terrifying moment he couldn't seem to catch his breath, and the thought of suffocation drifted into his mind. But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind, he finally managed to inhale. He clasped his hand in his face, taking several shaky breaths as he tried to calm down. The song that had jarred him awake was a song he and his brothers used to sing back when they were kids. They would always sing it when one of them overslept, yelling out the last word as loudly as possible to scare the sleeper awake. As he pulled his hands away he realized that he was sweating, noticing at the same time his sheets were slightly damp. As his breathing began to steady, he gave his head a hard shake, sending droplets of sweat that clung to his hair flying. No need to freak out, no need to act hysterical.

First things first, where was he? Opening his eyes, a quick glance around told him that he was in his cabin on the Flight. That was good, that meant that he was on the ship, and the slight motions he felt were of the ocean, so they were obviously sailing. Instead of calming him down, it filled his head with even more questions: We're sailing again, but where are we going? Is everyone alright? Did everyone make it to the ship? Why aren't I steering? He pushed the questions out of his head with a great deal of reluctance, and instead focused on events that led up to him being in the cabin. He remembered fighting on the docks of Enko no Saisho, battling against some strange plant monsters... Donner was there, he struck one of the beasts down before collapsing...he had rushed forward to help him and then...Nothing?

For yet another brief moment, Ren began to panic. He had never had a lapse in his memory before, not like this. Even the few times when he'd passed out or been knocked unconscious, he'd been aware of the draining feeling of his consciousness right before. This time, it was as if his memory was a movie reel, and right as it was getting to the good part, someone had cut the reel prematurely. He suddenly had visions of aneurisms or brain tumors, something that might be able to affect his memory in such a manner, which only pushed him to a greater sense of panic. He threw back his covers and hopped out of bed, planning to pace the floor a few times to try and give himself a moment to think, when his legs gave out on him. No sooner had his feet touched the ground, his legs gave way and his knees met the deck. He didn't realize earlier because of his state of panic, but he felt extraordinarily drained. The only time he'd ever felt like that had been when he'd had the most intense of training, and he had been depraved of sleep for several days. Which meant something had occurred that had caused the same type of strain on his body.

"Alright, ALRIGHT! Keep calm and visualize..." Ren said, trying to regain his composure. "You can do this. It's just like anything else. Mastery of the mind is like mastery of the sword..."Somehow the logic(or lack thereof) of the thought seemed to snap him back to his senses. He calmed his breathing again, placing both hands on either side of his head as he willed himself to remember. He could see it clearly, Donner dropping to the deck after delivering a mighty blow...He had rushed forward, meaning to cut off the other beasts before they could reach his downed comrade. He swung out wildly as they came in all directions, just trying to hold them off until the ship pulled close enough to give them aid. Then he saw it, something blue. He couldn't see where it was coming from, but it was a hazy, light blue that seemed to appear from nowhere. He couldn't place the origin, but-

“DUDE!”

The sudden noise snapped him back to reality, and he was back on the ship. The voice was familiar, loud and at this particular junction, very annoying. "Oh god damit Weeks..." Ren muttered, as he started to pull himself to his feet. His legs were still a bit shaky, but after a bit of experimenting, they could hold his weight. After taking a few careful steps, he surmised he was fit to move about. Closing his eyes, he raised his right foot up about a foot off the deck, before slamming it back down. The resulting visions he received back told him that he could still see things in his mind's eye, and that the memory lapse hadn't effected it. As he made his way to the door, he spotted his two swords leaning against the wall near the door. For a brief moment, he thought about leaving them, but decided against it. Scooping them up, he kicked open his door and went down the hallway, placing his weapons at the small of his back as he did so. It didn't take him long to reach the deck, where the majority of the crew was grouped, Weeks at its center. He appeared to be regaling them with a story of some kind, judging by his wild gestures. He confirmed it as he drew nearer, popping open an eye to glare at him in annoyance. His annoyance quickly subsided as the story continued and Ren found himself immersed in it before long. When Weeks seemed to reach his conclusion, Ren spoke up. "Two things. You'll forgive my ignorance in asking I hope, but first, what is CP 1? I'm not familiar with Marine jargon. And how on earth did you manage to get away if you passed out?"

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

[/font]

Kallie let out another high pitched sneeze, the umpteenth addition to a fit that had plagued her for more days now than she cared to account for. She dabbed at her nose with a bit of tissue, the box of which had become something of a constant companion as of late. The White Wings had been on something of an extended vacation after their involvement in the town’s internal battles, though it was more out of medical necessity than anything else. Good ol’ Metal-Head probably looked the worst when he was dragged in, an act which took several men to perform due to the fruit user’s ridiculous weight. She had wanted to make a joke about putting him on a diet, but at the time she couldn’t muster the energy to say it out loud, and given the fact he was unconscious she doubted he would have been able to properly appreciate her humor. And while her injuries had not been quite as gruesome as the captain’s (Though, it’s tough to beat having a gaping would in your chest), her had still been pretty rough coming in. Unlike the rest of the crew, she still hadn’t recovered from their adventures crossing Reverse Mountain, and that was before the whole riots thing even started. After skating around the city with what she later found out was a fractured fibula, fighting with crazed gunman, being jumped by an acid-leaking plant monster, being nearly crushed by another plant monster, and then jumping off a building, she had been pretty much restricted to bed rest for the entirety of their stay here. Still. As much as she hated being locked in one place, the group’s mutual convalescence gave them plenty of time to socialize, as compared to the rather terse conversations their action-packed lifestyle up until this point had allowed for since arriving on the illustrious Line. It was great fun.

Unfortunately, while her wounds had all but healed, it appeared that her body had fallen victim to a different affliction entirely. Though a runny nose seemed like a nit on gnat, it was still annoying to deal with dang it! But today, that little problem was going to be solved. Kallie had managed to procure the ingredients required for the legendary Nautilus family “Cure-What-Ails-You” potion, which was also known in some circles as chicken noodle soup. While not exactly a spectacular cook, pouring chicken, noodles, and vegetables into a pot of broth boiling and then stirring was a feat well within even her limited capabilities. After pouring some of the contents into a bowl, she had taken her meal up to the deck where she could enjoy it in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The vibrant young miss had donned a comfortable white sundress, which as the name suggested was rather perfect for this particular weather, with a low enough neckline for her small vestigial wings to peak out from the back. Shoes had been eschewed in favor of going barefoot, which was usually more fun that actual footwear when you weren’t going anywhere for awhile. Her hair had gone unmanaged for the better part of the past month, and lately she had taken to tying it into a long ponytail that seemed to be inching its way down between her shoulder blades. She was still on the fence about whether or not to cut it back to its usual length, but that was neither here nor there. For now, she had bigger issues.

Since the WW’s current vessel was originally of the Marine persuasion, its deck was rather Spartan as far as amenities went, and as such lacked any real seating. Upon reaching the top of the stairs she almost shouted a greeting to Aubrey, Ren, and Weeks (The fancy coat for which her namesake of him had arisen still someone in one piece despite their recent adventures), but they seemed carrying on a rather serious conversation, so she decided against it. Donny too was otherwise engaged, rather focused tinkering with the cannons. Mar-mar (Marius. She just liked saying that one) seemed focused on staring into space. In fact, it seemed like pretty much everyone was engrossed in their own activities. So rather than bother them, she settled down at the bottom of the staircase that led to the helm, reclining against the wooden banister as she enjoyed her savory meal. The meat was tender and the vegetables fresh, but given that she couldn’t really taste much at the moment, so her ability to critically evaluate the food’s quality was rather limited. Still, the warm broth felt good going down her throat, and something about the high fat content of the noodles felt oddly comforting. After she had consumed her portion in its entirety, she out an audible sigh of satisfaction, her stomach radiating contentment. Kallie leaned backwards and shut her eyes, just taking a moment to enjoy basking in the sun.

It was all very serene, listening to the soft waves lapping against the side of the boat, the creak of the mast as the unfurled sail tugged them forward, the faint cry of seagulls riding the fickle currents high above them. Despite her mildly uncomfortable position, it would have been rather easy for her to drift off into sleep. That is, if she hadn’t noticed something a bit odd. Were she not already attuned to the sounds of the surrounding ocean, she might not have picked up on it, but the caw coming from up above seemed to be getting louder. Or closer, as it were. Which wasn’t that odd, in the scheme of things, so she decided to ignore it for the moment in favor of relaxation. But the singular sound did continue to grow until it seemed almost right on top of her, at which point the noise finally ceased. Galvanized to rise both by a mounting curiosity, as well as the slight crick that was developing in her neck, Kallie opened her eyes. What she found, to her surprise, was a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her.

“Agh!” The Shandian gave a startled shout, shooting up from her reclined position with such urgency that she nearly sent her soup bowl flying. Whipping around quickly, she got a good look at what had been looking at her.

It was a seagull. Well, sort of. Suffice to say the bird was to seagulls what lions are to housecats. It stood all the way up to her chest, with a head nearly the size of her own, and a beak as long as her arm. A winding serpentine neck lead down to a smoothed body, most of which was concealed beneath not one, but two pairs of huge wings, which it kept wrapped around itself almost like a blanket. Its feathers were white with the occasional stripe of blue, though travel seemed to have brown it coloring a bit. The crest of its chest, where one might expect a tuft of darker tinged pinions, was the symbol bright red heart, which in no way could have been naturally occurring. All this was supported by a pair of stubby long-toed feet, each of which ended in a curved talon. Though one eye bore some manner of grievous scar, which was shielded from sight behind a black eyepatch, it only served to intensify its stare. But perhaps the strangest thing of all, which is a rather tough thing to say about such a creature to begin with, was the fact that it was wearing a backpack. Yes, a large brown backpack, with straps specially designed to secure it by wrapping around its four ‘shoulders’. From the looks of things, the animal seemed entirely used to this particular fashion statement.

Rather than be bewildered by the bizarre bird, as one might expect in this sort of situation, Kallie squealed in delight, immediately launching herself at the creature and wrapping her arms around its neck like a child hugging the family pet. Despite its rather intense stare, the gull allowed the physical contact. In fact, it seemed to rather enjoy it. After finally detaching from the animal, the red head immediately began addressing it. “Mikki! You silly bird. How did you find me?”

The feathered beast said nothing, as one would probably expect, instead only cocking its head to the side in confusion. Unperturbed, she continued.

“I know Papa had sent you on deliveries to the Grand Line before, but I didn’t think you could actually follow me… I guess every sea’s the same to you, right boy?” The bird, now identified as male, crooned softly as she scratched his neck, rather enjoying the woman's minstrations. “Ooo! That’s right. Do you have some mail for me?”

The loud 'caw' that came from his beak could be nothing but an affirmative.[/font][/ul]

[donnervark]

With neither sight or specter of his old Captain, Donner managed to get some much needed rest. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but when he woke it wasn't to chains and bars...but to the list and pitch of a ship at sea. A quick but sluggish glance around showed him a small cabin, with a wardrobe at one end, a desk opposite his position, and a door right next to it. The cabin apparently had belonged to an officer of low rank based on the coat-of-arms on the wall to his left. Since he wasn't in chains Donner assumed this was The Flight, or at least a friendly ship. The sudden elation caused by realizing he'd survived made him want to leap from the bed and shout, however as soon as he so much as twitched he felt the severe strain he'd put on his body.

"AAAAAAAAAUUUGH!!!" The loudest groan ever heard by the blue's exploded through the cabin he'd been placed in as Donner shifted himself to the side of the bed and swung his cramped legs over. Hardly a leap, though slowly but surely Donner stretched his body on the way to the wardrobe to the right. His clothes were a mess, as bad as his old. For the moment he tore the sleeves off a Marine bomber-jacket and ripped a pair of slacks into shorts. It was at that moment he noticed how large most of the clothing...in fact how large everything in the room was. The bed was half again larger than a normal King size, and the pants he made into shorts were considerably too big. Curious, more than anything the pair of black plated hand muskets crossing the Coat of Arms. But Donner had other things on his mind. He needed to get fresh air.

It took several minutes to find his way out, due to his needing to lean heavily on the bulkheads, and the lack of light. That was solved when he stepped outside and was slapped in the face by the invigorating smell of sea salt on a gentle breeze. It was the dead of night, the sky full of stars as the moon sparkled across a calm sea. Even though it was certain death because of his Devil Fruit, it felt like freedom. Though as he turned around he realized why it was so calm. They were still in port!

"What?!" He was startled at first. But quickly put it together. He didn't know why but it had to be safe for them to be here, otherwise they wouldn't. And until someone was up or around to explain things, the mission would continue. The city was still a mess, though it seemed they weren't rebuilding this night. Instead a candle shined from nearly every window. Further proof of the strength of the citizens of Enko no Saisho. They mourned, and kept going.

As Donner settled down against the mast and started working out the kinks in his muscles he drifted off in thought, his eyes drifting among the candle-lights. A lot of different things criss-crossed through his attention. Of course a lot of things had changed in the past few days. He had everything he needed to put it together, at this point all they needed was time. Maybe it was just the setting but he eventually drifted back off to sleep with a feeling of....certainty maybe? As though he knew he was on the right course. There was no coincidence in these people saving his life, and taking him to an island where he would meet Maple again.

The next few days were spent the only ways Donner could. Getting himself up to full strength, obsessing over the Flight's weaponry, and trying to make further sense of the situation. A few times before they left port he managed to slip into a bar or two in stolen uniform to catch drunken banter and fish for information. This was difficult because the sailors weren't drinking quite so much as they might have a week before. Whether by order or by choice, more soldiers were choosing sobriety.

Eventually he gave up and turned to fishing his own memories for clues as he did maintenance on the cannons his new crew purchased. Thankfully they heeded his expertise...but how could they not? He was Cannon Vark after all! A pair of Thomas-Auges ten-pound cannons on each side, and a Schirre' twelve pound long barreled cannon with custom rifling for enhanced accuracy. The Schirre' he mounted on the aft deck to use against pursuers. While he judged himself to be the best option for the fore-cannon. Donner could imagine equipping the ship with a great deal more, assuming they recruited enough men to arm them all properly. Such was the majority of his time, save for when some of the other crew needed him. The only person he avoided to any degree was Ren, simply because he wanted more time to think things over before being forced into explaining. Maintaining the guns kept him occupied most of the time though, and maintaining the guns was exactly what he was doing when the Captain finally woke up, and what he did throughout Week's speech. Donner paid attention to every word, very interested in this Babet now. He was connected to Maple, so every bit of information was memorized. At some point he knew he'd have to join in, but for the moment, he would stay on the side until he was called upon. While he was friendly, telling his life-story wasn't something he cared to do on any type of basis.

[Aubs]

Eventually Aubrey did sit down on a small crate to listen to the long and winding tale of Justin’s fight with this Babet. It must have been a sight in person, too bad he was only getting the secondhand version. The first thing that popped into the captain’s mind however was not the fight with Babet, but the words he had said. Now even though Aubrey had known Justin since youth, they hadn’t seen each other in something like 10 years. He knew next to nothing about Justin’s service record, and the two men hadn’t really caught up on all the history of his best friend either. But, despite all this the wannabe did feel a mixture of pride and anxiety at the words Justin had used to Babet. It did make him wonder though just how strong Justin really was. He had just become a Chief Petty Officer, which in the Marines was an important rank on a ship, but not really in the organization. He had skills as a medic as well, which the crew made use of frequently. But to hear about Justin being an interrogator of all things, and apparently a very good one, well that was strange.

Aubrey knew firsthand what fighting Justin was like, he had taken a bullet to the head after all. But now Justin didn’t have access to his fancy Marine fighting style thanks to a back injury during their escape from Lougetown. He was still a formidable opponent, some other Marines had found that out already, including Babet, but he was severely weakened. And yet Aubrey knew that the crew needed Justin, growing hatred of the World Government and all. Aubrey had a plan, but he alone couldn’t accomplish anything, he never had. But with Justin he might stand a chance, if only because his friend was so wildly unpredictable. Justin “Traitor” Weeks. Was his friend really capable of watching the world burn by his own hand?

The better question was…was Aubrey willing to release that on the world?

Back in reality though Aubrey and Justin were no longer alone on the deck. Ren and Kallie had arrived during the story. While Ren looked no worse for wear, one eye popped open to watch the First Mate Kallie looked slightly ill, if not in her usual high spirits. Ren’s clothes were damn near in tatters though, they would need to get him knew clothes soon or he would be in for health risks at sea. The Navigator had a few questions for Justin’s tale, but Aubrey was distracted instead by the large bird that landed on the railing of the ship. While he was immediately alarmed, the fact that Kallie seemed to know the bird made him relax a little bit. Kallie was an oddball, and not exactly human, so it wasn’t a complete surprise really. Why not?

When the bird began cawing back at the redhead Aubrey assumed that it must have something in its backpack, that’s when the rookie remembered that Kallie was a delivery woman of all things. In the short time that Aubrey had known Ms. Kalliope he had learned that she defied what most would call normal. If nothing else she gave this crew a light that they wouldn’t have otherwise. They ranged from born pirates to traitor marines, even peaceful shipwrights. Without her here they might even be a boring pirate crew, but with her they had a reason to remember the hope they were trying to bring. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he turned away to face Justin once again in his story. Donner was paying attention now, though he had a slightly distraught look on his face. Perhaps he too would have to talk about his adventure on Saisho? Though despite his rather extensive injuries he looked to be recovering quickly. The Devil Fruit he ate must have made him hardier than our captain had first expected. The two of them had spent a good deal of the time on Enko no Saisho together unraveling the mystery of the rebellion. It made Aubrey realize that he was very fortunate to have that man on his crew.

Sighing and leaning backwards the rookie looked up into the air, letting the sun pound down on him for a minute while Justin regaled them some more. The day was clear and powerful, the breeze from the sea sweet. The island that served as their “final” destination today must be enjoying pleasant weather, which was good considering the storm that the crew was bringing with them. Aubrey was secretly waiting for Marius to call out what he knew was coming. Despite the conviction to run as fast as the Flight could take them, the captain had already made his move, for better or worse. The paper from Saisho had been fairly specific about their next mission, even though it hadn’t meant to be. Part of him worried about not telling the crew ahead of time. He knew that at least Justin would be upset, but he had plans for that. However, this opportunity didn’t come every day and the White-Wings needed to capitalize on it. Was it dangerous; yes. Was it stupid, kinda yeah? The crew didn’t know that the Marines were building a roadblock in front of them. It didn’t matter that they were nobodies, this was the Peace Route. One did not simply come onto the Peace Route, it was the safe haven for Marines in the Grand Line, and they were going to keep it that way.

Would the Wings respect that? Well of course not!

But that didn’t mean that the powers around them would listen. Even now as Aubrey plotted his next move and the crew took a moment to reflect on the wild ride they had taken so far the next enemy was already making themselves known. In the distance a massive ship loomed, it would eventually take all their attention. Beyond that even though was a small band of foes intent now on beating the Wings.

Why couldn’t it ever be easy?

---

[Weeks]

As Justin completed his story, he felt a strange mixture of annoyance and gripping anticipation. The story it seemed, had not had the effect he was planning on. Every word was true, he had made sure not to leave a single part out, but for some reason, he did not receive the overflowing sense of sense of accomplishment he had been counting on. In fact, his audience had become dead silent, as if deep in thought, either contemplating if Justin was telling the truth, or simply pondering the details with intense concentration. Ren was the only one to break the silence.

"Two things. You'll forgive my ignorance in asking I hope, but first, what is CP 1? I'm not familiar with Marine jargon. And how on earth did you manage to get away if you passed out?"

Justin's jaw opened slightly, smoke escaping from teeth and upwards past his ears as he looked lost for words. This was certainly not the reaction he had wanted. He had thought that this would have merited a pat on the back, or perhaps even a handshake, even a thumbs up would have done the trick, but no, his cremates seemed to be wondering about the facts of the conversation. Resisting the urge to slap every single one of them out of their incredibly annoying silence, he instead simply decided to inhale his cigarette deeply, and take the edge off from his ever growing irritation.

"Well..." Justin began, tapping his foot impatiently, looking out to sea rather than make eye contact with his stick in the mud friends.

"CP 1, or Cipher Pol 1, is just the first in an organization of eight different agencies currently working for the world government. They don't answer to the Navy, they answer directly to the government."

He made it a point to take another drag, and remind himself that perhaps this was a good question after all. In fact, Justin remembered at that very moment that it was perhaps him alone who knew the most about the inner workings of the Navy and the Government. Of course, there were things even he didn't know, but working with the Navy for five years certainly had its advantages.

"Cipher Pol 1 facilitates the needs of intelligence collection in East Blue, but they don't exclusively fight pirates, in fact, it's more of a secondary role for them. What they do is they actively seek out political threats, and any citizens or other people who would go against the will of the government. Of course, they still have to follow the law, they can't go around executing people on sight." he continued, his face becoming more serious and his heart rate dropping as he went over the details in his head.

"Apparently they tried recruiting me once, but I never heard a word of it until Babet said something. I suspect my old Commander had something to do with that. He once told me a story about how Cipher Pol 1 was under investigation for...well...let’s just call it a mass murder."

Justin made a distinct shudder as a chill ran up his spine. Just thinking about what he had heard them do was enough to make anyone's guts turn over in their stomachs.

"The story goes that a man who took ten years to circumnavigate the red line returned home to east blue to become a teacher. Well, he had seen so much that his view on the world, and the government for that matter, had changed. So he started teaching his students that they should start thinking about the world in bigger terms, make up their own mind and see the facts for themselves before trusting the government. So during class one day, the doors to the school mysteriously become locked and barred up from the outside, and the school burns down with the teacher, and all the student’s inside."

Justin stayed silent for a moment, tossing his cigarette overboard and pushing himself off the railing to stretch.

"It's just a story though, I never really saw an actual report about it. As far as I know CP 1 just goes around arresting people for speaking their minds or capturing rebel spies. No one really knows exactly what they do, they tend to work in covert groups and never in uniform. What I do know is that they are completely loyal to the government, and that they report directly to Mariejois."

Justin was now the one who was Silent as he went over the information in his head. If Babet really had formally been part of CP 1, then he certainly would know that Justin knew this information. In fact, it was a fair bet that this particular crew was perhaps one of the largest threats currently operating on the Grand Line. Forget that they were a rookie crew, the Wings were in territory that was supposed to be perfectly safe in every sense of the word. Justin knew a fair share about the route, in fact, he would have to sit down with Aubrey at some point and explain the situation to him at some point. For now however, they could sail on with relative ease. With any luck, the Navy might get it into their heads that the Pirates would simply sail to the next route over. In fact, that would be the smart thing to do. On the other hand, Justin himself had openly challenged the might of the entire Navy, they would most certainly laugh at the idea, but Justin knew them well enough to know that they would never take a threat like that and ignore it. No, they were going to meet the White Wings head on at some point, the only question was when.

"As for how he got out of there, I carried him out. I cradled him in my arms like a women. He has really soft skin you know."

As Sean commented on the second question, Justin could not help but grit his teeth and feel a new surge of anger run over every inch of his body. Could he really have picked any other way to humiliate him than say it like that?

"DUUUUUUDE!"

"Then again he does have his Mom's face. We used to do this thing where he would put his hair behind his ears and-" began Sean again, using his hands to pantomime how Justin used to have long hair down to his shoulders.

"THAT'S IT! I'M GETTING MY GUN! MOVE!" he commanded as he pushed between Ponte and Marius, his feet stomping on the deck as he made his less than proud exit from the group.

Yet he was stopped only a few feet shy of the ladder to the crow’s nest where his quarters were, his eyes lingering on the massive bird that had landed next to Kalie what seemed to be some time ago. As Justin froze, one could visibly see how his face contorted in his confusion, scrunching up to the point where it looked like he was about to sneeze.

"Um...there is a giant seagull on the ship." he muttered to himself, having to speak the words aloud to know that they were true.

The bird however, had become just as interested in Justin, as Justin had become with it. They locked eyes, both of them seeming utterly unable to move for a few moments as they sized each other up. The Seagull however, Mikki as Kallie had called it, seemed dead set on making more than just eye contact with the confused looking Sniper. As it walked a few paces forward, Justin raised up his hands, forming them into Karate chops and raising his left leg up to guard his waist.

"WHOAAA, WHOA! BEGONE FOUL BEAST!" he hollered, more than likely gaining the attention of the rest of the crew (as if he hadn't done that already).

The Seagull simply tilted it's head to the side, looking slightly confused (and insulted) by the First Mates comment and composure. Before things escalated any further, the Bird tossed over a parcel that it had been carrying in it's mouth, the circular box clattering at Justin's feet.

"Oh..." said Justin finally, looking up to the bird as he normalized his stance once again.

"Oh...you...you brought me mail..." he stated, picking up the hat box from the ground, surprised instantly by how heavy the box was.

Mikki nodded in affirmation, still looking slightly insulted by Justin's comment about it being a "Foul Beast".

"I uh...sorry..." was all he could manage as he threw the box over his shoulder, and clamored up the ladder and into the crow’s nest.

Once inside, he let out a heavy sigh, wondering how on earth a Seagull had known to deliver mail to him. In fact, he was so wound up that he simply placed the package on his desk, making for the bottle of Whiskey on the end table next to his hammock to pour himself a glass.

Sean had done a marvelous job at creating an ideal room for Justin. The shipwright had not disappointed, and he felt right at home. Though small, only being a seven foot by seven foot room, it was large enough to fit in a writing desk, end table and hammock to comfortably fit one person. The room, having to be built in a circular fashion being attached to the mast was certainly a show of Sean's craftsmanship, who had completed the room in less than three days. What had stunned Justin more was how Sean had been able to put in the desk and end table without him noticing, as well as the bottle of finely aged whiskey that he must have acquired on Enko no Saisho. Justin however, had made no complaints thus far. The room was well above the troubles of the rest of the crew, and two circular windows, one port and one starboard gave him a wonderful view of the sea. The way he had entered was a simple trap door with a locking mechanism, witch Justin had urged for. Justin hated it when people didn't knock, and the lock was simply a little extra security to maximize his privacy.

As he settled in, he sat down at his desk, sipping from his glass of whiskey as he leaned over to the end table once again to set down his log book in front of him. To calm his nerves, he always felt it necessary to write down his troubles. Flipping to the next empty page, he inked the pen, and began to write.

Making A Scene

If you had to asked me when I was 18 "what do you want to do with your life?" I would probably said something like "I want to be a reliable adult who can retire in comfort". The truth is, at the time, I had no idea of what I wanted to do at that age. The only thing I did know is that I didn't want to burden my parents anymore. Sure, I had helped out around the farm, and have done my share of sweating and bleeding in an honest day's work, but I had never amounted to anything doing it. I had never had the drive for school, or working on the farm, or in any of the shops. I never had the drive to do anything but ride Nipper and shoot at mountain bandits. I had some great times on that horse, I even made some pretty good money riding all over the island. I think the thing I enjoyed most about it, was that I didn't have anyone telling me what to do, or where to go. Sure, I was delivering packages, but I decided when to get there and which road to take. I think I was looking for two things. Adventure, and of course, a way to tell Cecelia how I felt. Of course, when I told her that, it was too late, and the only thing I could do to fill that hole was go off an another adventure.

I fought a man named Babet, apparently he had been keeping tabs on me for years without me knowing about it. He knows about Cecelia, where I'm from, my parents, Nipper, everything. He made me remember a lot of things I had repressed over the years, things that hurt too much to think about. I have to say, I've had a hard time this last week dealing with it all. Apparently Brendan and Cecelia are somewhere on the Grand Line, I'll have to make it a point to find the two of them at some point, but I have to make sure it won’t put the crew in danger. As much as they annoy me, as I'm sure I annoy them, they are the first real friends I've had in a long time. Of course, Aubrey and Sean go without saying, but Donner, Kallie and Ren are starting to warm me up a little bit more.

Donner is certainly a gifted man when it comes to firepower. I've never personally seen him use his Devil Fruit yet, but Aubrey tells me that the man packs the power of cannons, quite literally, in his arms. Who knows what he could come up with in the future? I can't say I know much about him personally however. The man is troubled, I can see that in his eyes. I'll have to make it a point to figure out exactly what is bothering him. My guess is that it has to do something with the Marines, without the obvious fact that he's on this crew. No, I think something happened to him. Seeing the way he looked at me while I talked about my fight with Babet, it looked like he was dealing with something very personal.

Ren certainly seems to think less and less of me as time goes on. I think he's too serious for his own good however, as many of the other crew are. I've seen how he handles a blade though, and to be honest, I think I would have a lot of trouble with him in a fight. We keep surprising each other however, like how I showed him how I can use a lasso. I think he's as interested to see how I fight as I am him.

Kallie however...is the real...let’s just say character of the crew. She's not stupid by any means, but she might seem that way by outward appearance. She's certainly a grown women, the hips...they do not lie, but she must have grown up very sheltered. I have made it a point to watch my language around her as much as I can, but I will admit, I do love seeing her face look like a curious puppy whenever I use language that is more innuendo than foul. Though I'm not too sure about this innocent girl having a hand directly in what we do...I have to say, having her around boosts moral like I have never seen. She speaks from the heart and always gives the morally right answer to anything. She's a good kid, and quite honestly, I more or less feel like she's a baby sister.

Hopefully I will get some time to bond with them soon. For the moment I have made it a point to distance myself in order for them to get acquainted with living on a ship. It's not an easy life, but I think they have had ample time to think on our last battle and understand where Aubrey is taking us. In fact, fearless leader has not told me his plans as he has just woken up. I made it a point to pour seawater on him and let it soak into his mattress. The next time he tells me he has "got this", he better not pass out for another week.

I'm positive I still have glass shards in my ass, last night I had small blood stains in my underwear. I threw them overboard to spare myself the humiliation that Sean would bring. I have been going commando ever since...

[Doc]

Ren listened with mild interest to Justin's explanation, a part of his mind still wandering in a what seemed futile attempt to recollect what had happened on Enko no Saisho. From what he gathered, the Ciphor Pol as a whole was like the Government's own personal shock troops, who didn't answer to regular authority. The description made each Ciphor Pol sound like it had a different objective, and they were independent of the Marines, but no doubt held authority over them, since they only answered to the Government. It sounded like a problem that would have to be dealt with in the future, especially if they continued on their current course. Even though he was not well versed in the specifics of the Government, he knew that they could not let things stay as they were. The commotion caused on Enko no Saisho would no doubt result in the White Wing's name popping up. It was only a matter of time before things escalated, and they had to deal with some serious Government firepower.

"Apparently they tried recruiting me once, but I never heard a word of it until Babet said something. I suspect my old Commander had something to do with that. He once told me a story about how Cipher Pol 1 was under investigation for...well...let’s just call it a mass murder." And suddenly, Justin had earned his full, undivided attention. As he explained further, Ren cracked open an eye to scrutinize Justin carefully. As odd as it sounded, this information cast Justin in a different light. To be recruited for such a thing, even only attempted to be recruited, for a group like that was surprising information. He honestly didn't doubt that the Government would resort to such methods. He'd seen men do horrible things in the name of "justice". Upon Sean mentioning his "heroic" rescue of Justin, a spark of an idea occurred to him.

He tapped Ponte, who cast him a quizzical look as he beckoned him closer to speak in a low whisper. "Do you remember anything from our last day in Enko no Saisho? Specifically when you guys came to the docks and picked up Donner and myself. Anything... out of place?" Ponte screwed up his face as he thought back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Out of place? No, not really. We came, grabbed you two and the load of gold, and we hightailed it to pick up everyone else." Ren frowned, but wasn't so easily dissuaded. "Are you sure? Nothing at all that you can recall?" Ponte stroked his chin, cocking his head to the side. "Oh...well...In truth, we thought you guys would need help. When we were pulling up, you two were surrounded by those weird beasts, but you took care of them yourself somehow. It was funny though...Seemed like you had some kind of lingering something or other on you, something blue." He'd said the magic words: It was starting to come back to him as well now, now that he'd heard it. So he wasn't just imagining things!

"I knew it...But why can't I remember? And how the hell did I wind up out for so long..." Ponte shuffled his feet, but didn't speak. Ren opened an eye and glanced up at his face. He couldn't make out facial features well unless he used his eyes, and what he saw surprised him. For the first time since he'd known him, Ponte looked guilty. "Yeah...No clue how uh...that could have happened..." he said, pointedly looking away. Ren opened his other eye to fix Ponte with an accusing gaze. "Ponte," Ren said in a voice of false calm. "What did you do?" "Well..." "I will gut you like a fish and then hang your entrails around the ship like tinsel. Speak." Ponte gaped at him. "Would you really?" Ren's glare was answer enough. "Ok, ok. Well the thing is, when we pulled around, we thought you were getting overrun, so we...kinda...shot a cannon...over there..."

For a brief spell, Ren looked astonished. "You shot a cannon at me?" "No no, not at you! Heavens no! Just uh...really close by. I mean, it wasn't that bad," he added hastily. "We thought you needed the help. The explosion kind of... threw you a bit. I think you hit your head." Ren swerved his murderous gaze away, his left eye closing as his right narrowed in thought. Explained that way, it made sense. But that still left the minor details. He'd have to find a place to sit and meditate. Hopefully he could recall the finer points, but if not...
THAT'S IT! I'M GETTING MY GUN! MOVE! Justin barreled past, shoving past Ponte and Marius. Losing his balance slightly, Ponte bumped into Ren, snapping his attention towards him. "...Sorry." Ren dismissed it with a wave, turning away for a moment. He'd need someplace quiet to think. It suddenly seemed imperative for him to remember, though he had no way to know for sure if he could.

Walking past Ponte, he said aloud "I've got something to take care of. I'll be at the helm if you need me." He almost blundered right into Justin, who had gone stock still and was staring at something. Inching around him, he opened an eye and followed his gaze. Somehow, at some point in the last few minutes, a bird had found it's way onto the ship. It was having a staring contest with Justin, as far as he could tell. It made a move towards him, and Justin reacted as only he could. WHOAAA, WHOA! BEGONE FOUL BEAST! Ren shook his head, walking past them to make for the helm. "How rude. Granted, that is the second biggest Flamingo I've ever seen..." A short time later, he opened the door to what was basically his second cabin. They'd fixed the table that was at the center point of the room, and the large shelf that lined the back was still packed with maps. The table held a few instruments and the current map spread out across its length. The map was marked all over with signs for the incoming current, possible wind patterns, and anything else Ren thought might be useful to keep in mind. A solitary chair was pulled up to the table, a small cushion on it's seat.

The wheel was at the forefront of the room, a large porthole directly in front, and one on either side of the room. Here, he felt most at ease. He exhaled a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding, before stepping further into the room. A quick glance at the map and a longer glance out of the starboard porthole gave him a general idea of where they were and where they were going. He wouldn't need to do much for them to keep their course. Which meant he had a bit of time. Pulling the cushion from it's perch upon the chair, Ren dropped it on the floor in the corner, plopping down onto it a moment later. Drawing both of his swords, he sat Indian Style on the floor, his naked blades resting on his crossed legs. Taking a few deep breaths, he curled his hands into fists, pressing them together just in front of his sternum. He cleared his mind, and tried to remember...

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

The tawny sun-stained leather of the courier beast's rucksack looked as worn as well-traveled as the creature who so comfortably wore it. It wore splotches of faded material where the wind had whittled away sections of its surface, with several side pockets seeming to have been torn off entirely. And stranger still, just around its edges lay a thick layer of coarse grey material which smelled strongly of ash, which lead one to wonder just what sort of places the avian had traveled to. That was the unfortunate risk of using such a method of delivery. If anything ripped and fell, the bird usually wouldn't notice until landing. And even if he had, what is he going to do, go back and get it?

But fortunately, throughout whatever adversity it had faced, the main flag remained firmly secured, tied down as it was by a robust system of interlocking straps and buckles. It made opening the pack a mildly time-consuming endeavor, but one Kallie was more than happy to engage in.

Finally undoing the very last restraint, the enthusiastic pirate flung the flag open, revealing a treasure trove of letters, packages, and every variant of postal entities in between. Each was marked with the appropriate name and location of the person for whom it was to be delivered to, and not much else. Digging through the jumble with a child-like fervor, she rooted back and forth until a glint caught her eye. Pushing the other bits of paper aside the Shandian removed a brightly wrapped red box, slightly heftier than the rest, which bore her own name in exquisite penmanship. Her face split in a moment of brilliant glee at the sight, accompanied by a short wiggle of a dance with the object in hand. It was a gift! A gift from home! She had held a small glimmer of hope that this had been the case, as she rarely saw her industrious beaked friend unless he had something for her. Any thoughts of sickness and soup had long since been ejected from her mind with this new chain of developments. What could it be? It was a big ol' thing. Snacks? Nick-knacks? A delivery? No no, delivering a delivery would be redundant! A present? Was it her birthday? No. Well, she didn't think it was. Was it? And more to the point, can you mail cake?

Regardless, she had neither the patience or desire to speculate further when the solution to her question was literally in her hands. But she pulled the flag closed so she could move to examine the newly acquired goods Mikki let out an objection, twisting himself around in a move that made his cargo rustle loudly. He looked back at her with his one good eye expectantly. "Huh? Oh, is there more?" The unusually clever critter rose and lowered its head as if in confirmation. However when she tried to sort through the jumble again he took a step away. It took a few more moments of quiet contemplation for her to understand what he was trying to communicate. "...But not for me?"

"WHOAAA, WHOA! BEGONE FOUL BEAST!" Came a bellow from the deck. Glancing back, she saw Justin standing defensively, his gaze set directly on Mikki as if appraising him for threats. Which struck her as totally bizarre. Didn't they have Trade Gulls where he grew up? Fancy-Coat Island would have to be a boring place for that to be the case. Maybe he was just afraid of birds?

If that was indeed the case, it was plain to see the opposite was not true in the least. Even as she opened her mouth to identify her friend, the burly fowl pulled an about-face. Hopping up onto the railing with its sizable talons, it matched the shout directed at him with an irate squawk of similar magnitude, an elaborate crown of feathers bristling around its head in a clear expression of discontent. Spotting the sudden flare of tempers, Kallie placed herself in between the impromptu staring contest. "Hey! No. None of that. Mik-ster, this is Weeks. He's a super good guy!"

Whether due to the woman's testimonial or some other factor, the bird slowly settled its ruffled feathers in both meanings of the phrase, instead taking to examining the well dressed pirate with a measure of curiosity. Or perhaps thought. It almost seemed like he recognized the name.

After a few moments, it stepped down to the end of the banister, still unwilling to take its eye off the human who had apparently offended it. But it still had a job to do. Rearing its head back slightly, it made a sound slightly reminiscent of a retch. The rounded pouch-esque portion of its strange beak shrinking inward as it reared its head back, and spat out a small circular box onto the floor which bore a label addressed to Weeks. Oddly enough given where it had been stored, the package was neither damp nor coated in fish bits. In fact, it seemed in relatively pristine condition. "For him? Oh. But still, ho- Oh nevermind." While she was still rather curious about how he new that this particular gentleman would be on the same ship as her, she was acutely aware that her attempts to question the bird on the matter would result in nothing but him cocking his head at her in confusion, so she let the matter drop.

After offering a mildly confused apology at the misunderstanding, Justin wandered off with his mail in tow, and Mikki finally allowed her to retie his pack without raising a fuss. Looking up, she saw the rest of the crew had gone back about their own business. Everyone seemed a bit glum, which in turn made her a bit glum, since she had no one to talk to. Of course, said glumness only lasted as long as it took her to remember that she had a perfectly good four-winged bird to talk to, and a present from home to open on top of that! Scuttling back up the stairs, she plopped down across from the wheel with the box in tow. Her pet followed loosely behind, stopping to sneakily (Or at least as sneakily as something not well adapted for land travel is capable of being) lapping at the remaining contents of her chunky soup with its long tongue. Engrossed as she was reading in the note on the box, Kallie did not notice.

'From the desk of Nautilus T. Love...'

SPOILER: Click to show

Sorry for the delay folks. But finals are all but over for me, which means I'm back in action!

[donnervark]

Donner's mind was many places as Justin finished his explanations and headed below-decks. So much so that the incident with Kallie's giant seagull went largely unnoticed by the Cannon-man. His knowledge of the Navy and World Government was limited to operational information. He knew their methods, how they thought, how they fought, and how they were organized. But this Cipher Pol organization. He knew next to nothing about them. The name rang a bell, but with the sheer size of an institution as large as the World Government, names could come and go like fruit-flies.

He stood for a few minutes, arms crossed, eyes drifting along the horizon as his thoughts wandered. But like the gentle breeze licking at his orange hair, his memories did little more than tussle his current line of thought. Kodaku, if that had even been his real name, did not seem like the sort of man who would work for or with this Cipher Pol 1. He had been a Rear Admiral, and a nasty one. Power hungry and zealous to an extreme. Not the sort to share information or goals with others. Donner growled at his own inability to work through the matter at hand. And putting his fists on the rail, not ten paces from Aubrey, he made a decision.

“Captain. I've got something I need to take care of.” It was direct, and not entirely friendly either. Donner was an observer, a marksman trained to spot details and pull them out of the chaos. But he was hopeless at handling those details save with brute force. A fisher, a soldier, and now a pirate. There was little tact required for any of those professions. Perhaps it was time to start thinking harder, start making a difference. Dodger and Kodaku had trained that out of him. Maybe Aubrey could drill it back in. He passed his new captain, stopping with a deep breath and putting his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. “Keep an eye out. When I get back I think I have some explaining to do.”

He headed to his quarters first, suddenly unable to keep wearing the jacket he'd made use of. He switched it for a white tank top and shorts similar to the ones he was wearing when this whole thing started. Over it went a tropical patterned button up shirt that he kept loose. It felt good to be back in his old style, as interesting as the swap had been. Stopping to think, he grabbed the hand cannon’s off the wall. They were massive, too large for a normal person to fire. Whomever had owned this room must have been a real bull. He assumed they wouldn’t' be a problem for him however and snagged his old pistol brace as well. One might wonder why a man who could produce cannon's from his body would want pistols. The truth was he hated relying on his powers. And given the choice he'd prefer to make use of his surroundings first, then fall back on his abilities. As he closed his door he moved a hand to his chest, right in the middle. Donner had hid it well but that spot still hurt something terrible. The muscles were sore constantly, and his whole chest was tender. Even his arms were sore from the exertion on Enko no Saisho. He somehow doubted he could use his cannon's anytime soon. So the pistols were more than anything a means to address his doubts. Still, he had business to attend to. In a few moments he arrived and knocked on Justin's door. The man seemed to be writing at his desk, but Donner was first and foremost a blunt guy, and sat down on the floor with his legs crossed.

“Let me just start by saying we have something in common.” Donner leaned back on his hands. “Both of us used to work for our current enemies.” He let that sink in, and waited for a response, then continued. “Given our recent adventure, and current situation, I felt it might be a good idea to try and combine our knowledge and maybe figure out who the hell is trying to stamp us out.” The Cannon man gave Justin a look, not hostile, but very serious. “What I'm about to tell you is immensely personal, but extremely relevant. Everyone is probably going to know eventually, but from one ex-marine to another, I hope to keep it a secret until I know how to explain everything.” He took a deep breath and let himself get comfortable.

“I was a teenager at the time the Marines killed my uncle over the Devil Fruit you've seen me using. I originally thought I could use it to fight back, but that did not work out as planned.” This was already harder than he thought, and he was worried it might show. So Donner steeled himself, putting on the best poker face he could manage. Just talking about it brought back painful memories he would prefer remained at the bottom of the ocean....

“Donner RUN!” Bennon shouted as he jumped in front of Donner. His uncle was strong but lean, wearing the simple clothes of a fisherman with a brilliant mane of orange hair that flowed down past his waist. All Donner saw was orange at first. Then came the gunshot, and red followed. Bennon stood for a few moments as Donner wiped at his face. Was this blood? His hand was covered with it. Wide eyed he looked back...

Donner snapped back into the conversation at hand. Now wasn't the time. “You see the area was under the influence of a Marine Rear Admiral whom everyone referred to as Kodaku. I don't think that was his real name, just a moniker. Once at his base I also heard him referred to as Vitche and he was a mean bastard. He had a bounty on Devil Fruits and Devil Fruit users. A large one that ensured people always turned them over. If they didn't, or tried to sell them to another source, those people ended up dead. You see he thought Devil Fruits were to powerful to 'waste' on civilians, and I was added to a program designed to “rehabilitate” Devil Fruit users into productive assassins, soldiers, and lackeys in general.” Talking about this alone was as hard as talking about his Uncle, but the memories were pleasantly suppressed by ones of Maple. She was the only reason he made it through that nightmare.

“Me and one other individual came together to help each other through. We decided to use the Marines to train us. In doing so we made them believe us to be successfully rehabilitated and ready to serve. It took a year of hell to do so but we made it through. We even participated in a number of missions, to prove our loyalty, the whole time planning an escape. The only problem was we needed a ship, and no ships save the Rear Admiral's private fleet ever came near the base.” For a moment Donner adjusted the straps on his pistol brace. The guns were larger than he was used to, so they needed to hang lower. He took the moment to address any questions Weeks may have had, and once finished, he continued.

“To keep this from becoming a life story, I will summarize. Our escape came in the form of a Pirate named One Eye Dodger. Dodger was captured, having sacrificed himself to let his crew escape. I was detailed to watch over Dodger's cell while my friend stood watch at the lighthouse. I managed to convince Dodger that I wasn't a real Marine and that together we might be able to escape.” That had been a good time at first. Everything fell together so perfectly that it was like a dream....

“Goodnight!” Dodger hissed as his massive fist clobbered a helpless Marine upside the back of his head. The man crumpled so fast it impressed Donner how much strength this Pirate had. Most of the Marines on the base were out scouring the surrounding sea for Dodger's crew, so only a skeleton assortment of sailors remained for defense. Those few the two of them made short work of.

“Donner. I've handled the lighthouse. Five flashes just like you said. I hope it works.” Maple's voice over the Den Den Mushi was calm, yet a slight quiver was noticeable. He wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement, certainly it could be a bit of both. He himself was both on fire and frozen at the same time, equal parts fear and hate fueling his resolve while sobering his momentum.

“It will kid. That's the signal we always use. If they are out there, and they are, then they will head this way.” Dodger's confidence was inspiring, and Donner felt completely at ease in his presence. Was this what it was like being around a real Captain? He reminded Donner of Bennon in a way.....

“But everything went wrong.” Donner had to take a deep breath for this part, seeing as it had haunted him all these years until Enko no Saisho. “My friend, Maple. She was able to tap into the entire base's security system from her position. Just as myself and Dodger were scaling the wall she noticed that someone found Dodger's cell empty, and me gone. Before I could even try to come up with an alternative, she blew the island's power plant from her security station and started a fire in the lighthouse. That drew everything Kodaku had right for her, and saved us.” He shook his head. “For so long I had thought she would be executed.” That was an understatement. He tortured himself with the thought. Every conceivable outcome played over and over in his head, burning her sacrifice into his very soul. It had come to define him entirely....which is why learning she was alive was like a punch to the face. He locked eyes with Weeks.

“Now comes the interesting part. While we were on Saisho Maple found me. She let me live, I think because she is still somewhat in control. However she has to be indoctrinated, brainwashed. Kodaku had to have perfected his system. That is the only explanation. Maple was stronger than me, a lot stronger. Enough that he might have overlooked her crime in order to save a valuable asset.” It made sense. Kodaku was ruthless, but he wasn't one to waste something he could still use. “What was surprising though is that she didn't kill Aubrey. She explicitly told me to go back home, that she was going to kill our captain, that the White Wings were going to be stamped out like any other wannabe pirate crew.” He took another moment to answer questions, as he was getting to the end of his story.

“I know you have a history with Aubrey, so don't take offense to this. But if Maple wanted us dead, if she was ordered to kill us, we wouldn't stand a chance. So why? Why are we, why is Aubrey still alive? I don't know as much about these secret World Government organizations as you appear to. And I know this Babet has to be tied to Maple. So is there anything you can add? Does any of this make sense to you?”

Donner hoped Justin could make sense of it. Hoped they could make any kind of sense of any of it. “Knowing how the Marines work, I feel like that whole incident on Saisho was a staged affair. Someone made it happen. Babet has to be a little fish. But Maple? She could eat Babet alive based on what you told me. So why is she following him? Why would he have command over her? Something is going on, and someone is behind it. Now I know its been a long time, and Kodaku was a Marine. So it can't be him.” He rustled his hair with a growl. It was all too complicated for his tastes. He liked a straightforward fight. Not all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. He needed a target. Maybe that was what he was hoping for, something to point his guns at. At the moment all he had was a Lieutenant that could be anywhere, and an old friend that could want him dead at any moment.

Not an ideal situation.

[Aubs]

The crew seemed to have an energy that the captain just couldn’t match at the moment. Still lounging on a crate he continued to think, even as things around him happened. “Ethan, Xavier, Dad, Rowan; what am I doing? They are going to catch us, I know it. Can we really stop them?” Another long sigh, a brooding one at that. He remembered the burning of Grey Terminal when he closed his eyes. He remembered the smell of burning refuse and dying people. How had they done it, how could they throw away so many for no reason. Sometimes it still kept him up at night. He had been a fool, and he had gone to see what was happening, when his father final found him it had been too late, he had the taint on him, he knew that the world was a worse place than he would have ever imagined. Back then the death had scared him, now it just made him angry. This is what drove him even now, the thought of innocent people dying well-being oppressed, only for the sake of someone else’s success. Steeling himself, and wrapping his being in this conviction the wannabe pirate shifted slightly in his seat and brought himself back to reality just in time to see Donner Vark walking past him.

A curt moment if anything. Very reflective of some inner confusion. It caused Aubrey to think, what did he really know about Donner? He was a former pirate who had somehow managed to make it into the Grand Line and been captured by Marines. Because of some strange Devil Fruit he had nearly destroyed the ship he was held prisoner in. He had proven himself skilled and powerful on Enko no Saisho, but had revealed very little about his past outside of tid bits. Perhaps these cryptic words meant that the man wanted to discuss his past, but considering how quickly he moved off the deck and towards the innards of the ship the Captain assumed it was not to be discussed with him. Eventually it would all come out he supposed. Even now Donner didn’t really know much about Aubrey. He might think that the man was trying to be just to all parties involved in this strange master plan he concocted but didn’t explain, but he didn’t know just how strong, or how determined our hero really was. Perhaps he would see soon enough.

The cannon now out of his mind Mr. Meador turned his thoughts instead to his Navigator Ren, the Blind Swordsmen. He had found Ren more or less out of necessity, who had been trying to steal the same fancy ship from Lougetown. He too had proved loyal insofar. Who was he in the long run, Aubrey didn’t know. But one thing was certain, it was that as a combatant the man was worth keeping around. Aubrey had known that they would need to find a real Navigator before the line really swallowed them, but even as such Ren was a superior Helmsmen. He had, with literally one eye closed sailed them over the fabled Reverse Mountain and through a battle where they were vastly outgunned and outmanned. But Ren wasn’t going to plan routes and confer with him on the best course of action to avoid the long term enemy, he was going to be the one that saved their asses in a dogfight. As his new Helmsmen walked away as well, another thought fluttered across Aubrey’s mind.

They needed a Jolly Roger. The White-Wings were a real crew now, with enemies and allies, goals and objectives. But lord knows he wasn’t talented enough to make anything decent looking. If there was one person around that was however, it was their friend Ms. Kalliope. A talented artist, she would be the one person around here skilled enough to make a true Jolly Roger for the crew. Chewing on his lip for a second Aubrey came to that conclusion, and made a mental note to tell her when they had more time. For now though, let the crew relax. It wouldn’t be long before the next act opened of this never-ending drama.

---

It was a few hours later, after the sun was drifting past its zenith and now on the downward slope of his daily jog across the sky. It was then that the signal finally came, a very short reply from Marius, who had patenitly sat on the bow of the ship and waited, even while Justin and Donner spoke, as Ren reflected and Kallie read. “Aubrey. Ship to the front.” The words weren’t even that loud, but from the shade of his crate-seat the Captain rose up and began to walk forward, the stiffness in his body slowly oozing away as his movements became easier. To the front was a towering ship, obviously a cruising vessel by the absurd size. It was without question the Entitled, the ship that he had heard about on Saisho weeks before.

A World Noble-owned vessel, operated by servants and defended by more servants. It was heading to its next port, in Veldesh, the quickly approaching island. Aubrey wanted it. The easiest way to disturb the World Government must be to pick on their chosen children. Let the Nobles remember that they were not invincible. Just how big would the defense of the ship be, he didn’t know. This was the Peace Route, it was supposed to be safe for this kind of thing. All he needed was a chance to get on board and to start the rebellion he was certain was waiting for him. You could whip a man every day, and that might lame him. But there was always one amongst the flock who was just waiting, waiting to show that he wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a living breathing human, and he would be treated with respect. At least, Aubrey hoped there would be somewhere there like that.

Man, he really didn’t know what he was getting himself into did he?

Screaming at the top of his lungs, and stamping his powerful just enough to shake the boat strangely, the Captain of the White-Wing Pirates gave his command.

“All hands on deck!!! Enemy to the front!!! Prepare to board!!!”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

[Weeks]

The sudden appearance of Donner was a little more than surprising. Justin had been so deep in thought with his log that he hadn't heard the large man thumping up each of the pegs up the crows nest. Once the trap door opened however, Justin looked much like a deer in headlights as his head whipped around to look to his new guest. Donner made himself at home quite quickly, sitting on the floor criss crossed as Justin pushed back his chair in the confined space to the back wall, making as much room for the large man as possible.

"Something you needed?" asked Justin suddenly, slightly annoyed by the sudden intrusion, but mostly happy to find that one of his crew mates seemed to be making an effort to communicate, finally.

"Let me just start by saying we have something in common."

"Alright."

“Both of us used to work for our current enemies.”

"...Yes..." was all Justin could muster at the moment, wondering just where Donner was going with this.

“Given our recent adventure, and current situation, I felt it might be a good idea to try and combine our knowledge and maybe figure out who the hell is trying to stamp us out.”

"Sounds reasonable." nodded Justin in return, placing his hands on his lap as he began to listen intently.

"What I'm about to tell you is immensely personal, but extremely relevant. Everyone is probably going to know eventually, but from one ex-marine to another, I hope to keep it a secret until I know how to explain everything."

Justin said nothing, only gave another slight nod of affirmation. He of all people knew the value of keeping some things about oneself personal. The slip of the tongue about Cece and Sean's comments had set him on edge. He had lost himself for a moment when replaying his story to the others, but he was glad to see that Donner could be a trusted member in the crew who would not judge or pry into his personal life.

“I was a teenager at the time the Marines killed my uncle over the Devil Fruit you've seen me using. I originally thought I could use it to fight back, but that did not work out as planned.”

Justin felt a slight twinge of regret run down his spine in that moment, knowing that it had been people like him, intelligence personnel who had been part of things like that. Not only that, but the constant feeling that something had always been wrong about the burning of Edge town was starting to feel more and more governmental in nature. Perhaps that was one of the many reasons he was now here, to cleanse his soul of his perhaps sinful work.

“You see the area was under the influence of a Marine Rear Admiral whom everyone referred to as Kodaku. I don't think that was his real name, just a moniker. Once at his base I also heard him referred to as Vitche and he was a mean bastard. He had a bounty on Devil Fruits and Devil Fruit users. A large one that ensured people always turned them over. If they didn't, or tried to sell them to another source, those people ended up dead. You see he thought Devil Fruits were to powerful to 'waste' on civilians, and I was added to a program designed to 'rehabilitate' Devil Fruit users into productive assassins, soldiers, and lackeys in general.”

It certainly sounded like the World Government at work.

“Me and one other individual came together to help each other through. We decided to use the Marines to train us. In doing so we made them believe us to be successfully rehabilitated and ready to serve. It took a year of hell to do so but we made it through. We even participated in a number of missions, to prove our loyalty, the whole time planning an escape. The only problem was we needed a ship, and no ships save the Rear Admiral's private fleet ever came near the base. To keep this from becoming a life story, I will summarize. Our escape came in the form of a Pirate named One Eye Dodger. Dodger was captured, having sacrificed himself to let his crew escape. I was detailed to watch over Dodger's cell while my friend stood watch at the lighthouse. I managed to convince Dodger that I wasn't a real Marine and that together we might be able to escape. But everything went wrong.”

The story, as incredible as it sounded, was certainly the truth. Justin was an expert at reading people, knew all the ques of liars and made it a point to call out bluffs when he saw them. Donner however, was slowly turning into an emotional wreck. Though certainly not gushing, the man was in deep pain, something that Justin himself could relate to. He made it a point o remain as quiet as possible to let the man speak, and recall every detail as best he could.

“My friend, Maple. She was able to tap into the entire base's security system from her position. Just as myself and Dodger were scaling the wall she noticed that someone found Dodger's cell empty, and me gone. Before I could even try to come up with an alternative, she blew the island's power plant from her security station and started a fire in the lighthouse. That drew everything Kodaku had right for her, and saved us.” He shook his head. “For so long I had thought she would be executed.”

As Donner locked eyes with the First Mate, he could feel an intense sense of distress and utter seriousness from the gaze, realizing that this was the important part.

“Now comes the interesting part. While we were on Saisho Maple found me. She let me live, I think because she is still somewhat in control. However she has to be indoctrinated, brainwashed. Kodaku had to have perfected his system. That is the only explanation. Maple was stronger than me, a lot stronger. Enough that he might have overlooked her crime in order to save a valuable asset. What was surprising though is that she didn't kill Aubrey. She explicitly told me to go back home, that she was going to kill our captain, that the White Wings were going to be stamped out like any other wannabe pirate crew. I know you have a history with Aubrey, so don't take offense to this. But if Maple wanted us dead, if she was ordered to kill us, we wouldn't stand a chance. So why? Why are we, why is Aubrey still alive? I don't know as much about these secret World Government organizations as you appear to. And I know this Babet has to be tied to Maple. So is there anything you can add? Does any of this make sense to you? “Knowing how the Marines work, I feel like that whole incident on Saisho was a staged affair. Someone made it happen. Babet has to be a little fish. But Maple? She could eat Babet alive based on what you told me. So why is she following him? Why would he have command over her? Something is going on, and someone is behind it. Now I know its been a long time, and Kodaku was a Marine. So it can't be him.”

Justin, for a moment, simply let the many questions linger. As he leaned back in his chair, he looked to the ceiling, contemplating the entire situation and reflecting on his fight with Babet, and Donner's new information. Something had been irking Justin as well from the conversation he had had with Babet. The entire thing smelled something awful, and Marines fighting Marines was an extremely rare occurrence to begin with. And to vie over control of a little island like Saisho? Not likely.

"I think...that this goes away above our pay grades." Justin began, his voice a bit hushed now as he crossed his legs in his chair, folded his arms over each other and bit chatted his teeth together.

"Lets start with Babet." he began, closing his eyes and thinking back.

"Babet said that CP 1 had been watching me for a long time, and that's how he knew me. But the mam was wearing a Marine uniform...and not only that, a Junior Officer rank. If the man had been CP 1 before, then why on earth would he be a lowly Marine rank like that now?" he said, not really talking to Donner in particular, but simply deducting the information in his head.

"That's effectively a demotion technically speaking, if you could even call it that. Even if the man isn't much of a fighter, the CP's have in theory, unlimited resources to accomplish their goals. You know just as well as I do how hard it can be to get anything done in the Marines at a rank like that."

He took a deep sigh, trying to think of every alternative before he jumped to any conclusions.

"But he did say that he was 'formally' CP 1. Even if he was in one of the higher Cipher Pol's, he wouldn't have told me that, it would have blown his cover, even a blowhard like him wouldn't be that stupid. But that man...was no Marine."

His last phrase was soothing in hatred. Even if Justin was a traitor, the Marines were not inherently evil, the ones pulling the strings...now that might be.

"What Marine do you know of, even the cowards, run off on their own away from the fight? Marines always have a fallback point, they always stay with the group, even if it's in the rear, but him...he didn't seem to give a rats ass about anything that was happening. If he was was Just a coward, he would have run for back up, not try to face me alone."

Now things were getting somewhere. As Justin thought more and more, his eyebrows started to lift higher and higher up his forehead.

"So he's not of Cipher Pol...and he's not a Marine, and if Maple is following someone like that...Well..." he said, trying to find the words to break this to Donner.

"I don't think she's a Marine anymore either Donny." he said, looking the man square in the eyes as his face showed the signs of a deep epiphany.

"Think about it...the Women was trained by marines and if what you say about her fighting ability is true, might make for a great assassin. Marines don't have a use for them, not on a ship's crew anyway. What if...what if these people who trained Maple and your friends were approached by...hell, let's say a high government official, you know the type, they can do whatever they like, break any law thay want. So lets say they are looking for people to join...something off the Marines radar, maybe even the government! They recruit her, have her full loyalty through this brainwashing, and she masquerade as a Marine to keep her cover intact, even from you."

As he speech sped up, Justin found himself more and more reaching for the impossible, but in this instance, was it really so much of a stretch?

"So Maple joins this group not of her free will, and PHYSICALLY cannot disclose what she's doing because of the brainwashing...she's the perfect covert operative Donny!"

Justin had to take a moment to reflect on what he had just said. This was after all, Donner's friend, perhaps he was being a little to excited for the mood of the conversation.

"Sorry...look...we don't have any solid proof, but if Maple was still working for the Marines, why would she let Aubrey live? Hell, why would she let any of us live? Someone much higher is pulling the strings here, someone with enough authority not to answer to the Marines or Cipher pol, hell, maybe even someone who could command them. If Maple is brainwashed, she would be a perfect CP agent, but like I said, if she's with Babet, then she can't be. Donner, I think we stumbled onto a conspiracy..." he said, leaning back as he let that sink in.

It was silent for a few moments as Justin pondered the rest of Donner's more personal story. Justin was unable to shake the feeling of closeness with Maple Donner had, and in that regard, Justin felt much more than sympathy. It was one thing to lose your friends, but to have your friends be used as a tool...was something Justin might not be able to stomach.

"Look...I may not be a Doctor, or a spy, but I have a little of both worlds. I don't know what sort of things they did to Maple to get her...like you say...but I'll see what i can do to help. I can only guess that they might be using some sort of crazy hypnosis or...hell even drugs to keep her like that. What I do know however, is that you can't kill the subconscious." he stated, giving Donner a nod as he patted the man on the shoulder.

"Even if Maple is like that now, it's possible to reverse the effects later, and like you said, they haven't gotten past all of the mental blocks, she might still have a little control left. If that's the case, the next time you see her, and I'm sure you will, I advise you to remember as much as possible. She might be trying to give you ques that you might not have picked up on last time." he stated, looking to his bookshelf and pulling the bottle of whiskey from it. As he uncorked the bottle, he handed it to Donner.

"Take a swig, It's a good pick me up." he said, more of a demand than a suggestion.

"For now, get some rest, and maybe write all of this down so you won't forget. In the meantime, I'll do the same, and see if I can remember anything else about what Babet may have said or done. I have some mail to open up anyway, and if it's a bomb from my old commander then I don't want you to bite the bullet with me."

And with a kind smile, Justin sent Donner off, his mind racing with what all of this meant. If the White wings really had stumbled upon a conspiracy, then they were sailing right into the center of it.

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As Justin wrote down the conversation, the floor had begun to look much like a trash can. Wadded papers were all over the floor now as his crumpled notes had turned to dead ends. In fact, he had simply given up on trying to figure out any more at the moment, realizing that he simply had to little information to go any further, only theories and good guesses. So instead he reached for his mail, using the bayonet from his rifle to cut off the strings and open the circular hat box. As he popped open the top, he felt one quick moment of nostalgia, before it was gone in an instant, and he was lost for words as he reached inside to find the many contents.

At first he was just a little confused, his head tilting to the side as he spotted the brown hat inside. Now, a hat inside of a hat box was by far the most obvious thing one would find, but the weight of the package did not support this conclusion. Obviously something else was on the bottom of the box. Yet as Justin pulled the stylish cowboy hat from it's package, he felt slightly nostalgic, as if he had seen this same slightly worn brown hat somewhere before. The light blue band around the hat itself with the left hand brim pinned to the side seemed so familiar, but the moment that he had felt it, it was gone, and he couldn't place it for the life of him.

Humoring himself, he placed it on his head, pushing the drawstring up into the crown. It fit like a glove so to speak, fitting just above his eyebrows and shading his face. Smiling, he adjusted it by pulling the brim further down, so that it bent down just below his eyes. With that done, he looked back to his next item, to witch he found himself even more confounded. A coiled bullwhip was next, aged, worn, made out of what felt like cow hide. He had used one before, but he had never really mastered it's use. The cows back home had always been so tame and docile, it was simply a matter of calling them inside for the night. Still, it had been aged and oiled just right, the leather flexible but still strong, well taken care of even though it's age was evident. He placed it to the side, next eyeing what looked to be a mahogany case, fitting snugly inside of the circular box. As he struggled to pull it out, he now knew where the extra weight had come from.

As he pulled the case free, he turned the latch towards him, already interested in the engraving at the top side of the hinged box.

"The First: A product of E.D.M Enterprises."

It was a complete mystery to Justin as he looked to it, realizing that whatever this thing was, it had meant an awful lot to someone else. Whomever had send this package to Justin, what was inside might hold the key. As he opened it, his Jaw slackened, and he sat there stunned for a moment as he looked at the beauty whiten. Inside was a snubbed nosed revolver, perfect in it's construction and gleaming it it's protective coat of black paint and wooden grips. It had, as Justin could tell by just looking, never been fired. In fact, as his fingertips grazed over the gun in it's case, surrounded by red velvet, he contemplated never taking it out. However, he knew he would never have the inner discipline to do this, and he pulled the pistol from it's snug mount, and began to marvel at it's design.

It was perfectly balanced from tip to grip, his right thumb effortlessly pulling back on the hammer to cock the piece. It was so smooth in it's action that Justin could feel the gun almost slip from his fingers, as he had simply pulled back to hard, thinking he was still holding his old heavy six shooter. By all accounts, it almost felt like this gun had been made just for him. Though small in size, the punch at close range would be great and as Justin looked back to the case he found six already loaded shots to slip into the chamber, witch swung out with the simple flick of his wrist. Whomever had made this weapon, he was by all accounts, an instant favorite of Justin.

But Justin could only look at the weapon for so long before feeling his curiosity peak. Who had sent this package? How did they know where to find him, and how could they possibly know that he would like just about everything in this box? The answer would elude him for months, but his utter trust in his secret admirer would never wane from that day forth.

As he looked back into the box one last time, he saw only one last thing. A piece of paper with fewer words than could make a sentence. Yet Justin's handwork was all over it.



Justin's face evolved into the greatest of grins, spanning over a space that seemed infinate as his teeth shined in the dim light. Yet the feeling was short lived, his room shaking violently as he felt what seemed to be a mini earthquake. Books fell from his shelf and Justi had to lean back suddenly to catch he prized bottle of whiskey before smashing into the floor. Now with his new items, his hat on his head and his whip and new weapon on his hip, he listened for the inevitable.

“All hands on deck!!! Enemy to the front!!! Prepare to board!!!”

Without a word he made for the trap door to his room, pulling it up making his way down the ladder in the blink of an eye. This would be as good a time as any to test his new revolver. Spotting Aubrey, he tipped his new hat to the man, a grin on his face as he reached into his pocket for his pack of smokes.

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

If there were three things in this world that the animated young woman knew would never change, they would be this: One, the very last snack in the container always tasted the best, hands down. Two, any time someone called her by her full name, it meant she was knee-deep in trouble. And three, that her pops was the best gift-giver that had ever given gifts. Admittedly none of these statements were particularly applicable to Kallie’s current situation except for the last one, but that did nothing to detract from their existence as irrefutable truths.

The letter on top of the package had been penned in two wildly different styles. The messy cursive of her father, which dominated the majority of the page, accompanied by small addendums in the precise typewriter-like penmanship of her mother carved into the margins. It generally went over how things at home were, how the business was doing, some new project they were starting, and something about a trip they were planning in the near future. But the part that interested her the most was the section that listed the package’s contents. There were some new clothes, which for some reason they were always insistent that she needed. A letter marked for delivery, though why she sent it to her rather than just letting Mikki take it was beyond her. A few homemade treats (Hey! Number one was relevant after all!), which would have immediately found their way to her mouth if her hands were not already full. And last, but by far the most important in her mind, paint! That simple line of text was more than enough to drive her to toss aside her parent’s missive and dig into the brown packaging paper like a kid on Christmas morning. Inside, hiding amid the sea of Styrofoam peanuts, the feathered artist dug out several clear plastic canisters. They resembled large candy dispensers, with each filled to the brim with small brightly colored capsules maybe half the size of a 5-berri coin. It would have been easy to mistake the color coding was meant to signify an assortment of unique flavor, though it would have been a mistake they would not make twice. But Kallie knew exactly what they were, and squealed in delight at the sight of them.

Dye Pellets. If you slipped just ones of these bad boys into an empty aerosol can and gave it a good shake it would atomize, a top contender for her favorite words list by the way, into a fine mist of paint. Instant refills, and waaay lighter to carry around than the stuff you get at normal shops. Her previous supply had all been expended after a particularly powerful streak of inspiration which culminated with her airbrushing a floating restaurant in its entirety. It ended up being one of her favorite pieces, even if the owner didn’t quite share her artistic vision. In all the commotion the painter had been caught up in since then, she forgotten to try and replenish her cache! Better yet, amid the rest of her unique ‘battle paints’, there were nestled a couple unfamiliar flavors as well! Grinning from ear to ear, there was little she could think of besides finding a place to put her new paints to work.

“All hands on deck!!! Enemy to the front!!! Prepare to board!!!” Came Aubrey’s voice, booming like thunder over the deck, and even shaking the floor itself from under the crew’s feet. The noise and its intensity caught her dreadfully unprepared, startling the girl from her thoughts and sending her tumbling back onto her haunches with a light thud. The unusual gull to her side, which had since made itself comfortable while perched up against the railing, squawked in obvious discontent for the sudden racket. Rousing herself slowly, Kallie cast a glance first over to the ship’s captain, and then to the vessel on the horizon. It was absolutely massive, on a scale she had never encountered in her short time on the sea below. To liken it to even a Marine battleship would be like comparing a guppy to a whale. Heck in a hand basket, she was all but positive she visited smaller islands. How it so much as stayed above water was a puzzle itself, much less sailed anywhere. But more than that, it represented something. For you see, it was colored in large a bright pristine shade of white, as was what seemed to be the style with anything belonging and/or connected to the World Navy. Which is about as boring a color as you can get, short of painting it beige or newspaper grey. And, well. When all you have is a brush. Everything looks like one giant, floating canvas. Or however that saying goes.

The Shandian leapt to her feet, snapping off a comically enthusiastic salute in the process that almost managed to knock her back on her rear again. “Aye aye, Ayerey! Er, Aubrey!” It took three large bounding steps towards for her to realize that she had left her gifts behind, a fact she quickly spun about to rectify. Packages in tow, she leapt down the length of the staircase and disappeared below deck. What came next was a racket of almost deafening proportions, a mix of slamming doors, tumbling boxes, and the excited patter of feet on hard flooring. All that was missing was a dust cloud for comical effect. When Kallie shot back out of the hole a few moments later, she had switched out of the breezy white sundress into something a little more well suited to acrobatics. The air skates were obviously a nutritious part of any balanced butt-kicking, along with the tight wired support socks that were supposed to keep you from twisting your ankle off in the middle of a wild spin. Since she would be moving across water pants would have been a silly choice, so she instead went with a pair of cutoff denim shorts. The thick leather belt that wound through them was overlapped by the harness that secured her the pneumatic paint guy against the small of her back, which was powered by the same dial technology that enabled her unique (At least around here) form of locomotion. A multitude of different spray cans hung from her waist where a normal combatant might have stored bullets, not that she would ever trade her current loadout for any sort of fire arm. For a top she wore one of her favorites, a sleeveless athletic shirt which happened to be a particularly vibrant shade of lime marked with a red heart emblem on its front. Over that was something a bit more practical, a waterproof jacket caught between golden and a safety orange, whose hood displayed the tiny set of eyes and pointy teeth of a cartoonish monster. And finally her tinted riding goggles, which always seemed to find their way into her ensemble regardless of their practicality. They were awesome that way.

A cushion of air caught her before her feet so much as touched the ground again, as the Skyland inventions whirred to life. It took only a single ‘rowing’ motion with her leg to shift the lithe girl over to the railings, her eyes burning with a glowing enthusiasm. “If it’s okay with you guys, I’m going on ahead!” While the statement began as a question, Kallie went into action without actually waiting for a response. In an almost casual motion she planted a hand on the barrier and kicked her legs over the side, dropping off the White Wings’ liberated vessel with a squeal of delight. This was going to be fun!

---

“I did not ask for her medical condition. I said she was to return to work immediately. The previous boatswain chose to mouth off in front of his betters. His Greatness requires this one to take that other fool’s place.” Declared the arrow-jawed brute, his tone implying neither want no care for her professional opinion on the matter. Standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, seemingly oblivious to how his current position was a terrible obstruction for the flow of personnel though her small clinic. That’s alright. It wasn’t like they were medical professionals, attending to several patients whose status alternated between ‘critically injured’ and ‘only slightly maimed’. The longer he sat there tapping his fingers and staring at her, giving an aura of belligerent impatience, the more difficult Miss Lavaeu was finding it to remain impartial.

From her seated position in one of the rolling office chairs, which unsurprisingly had not come standard along with the dreadfully understocked and entirely inadequate facilities with which they had been supplied for the duration of their ‘tour of duty’, the good doctor glared at her antagonist. “Trust me. I am well acquainted with how that particular crewman was… treated.” Those words came out drenched in no small amount of bile. She had, in fact, dealt with a steadily increasing amount of such incidents as the time they had spent at sea grew ever longer. The owners of this vessel, The Entitled, had made it abundantly clear through their intermediaries (Known as the Enforcers, such as the lovely chap in front of her now) that they their every order to be followed to the absolute letter, with the only suitable punishment for anything less than perfection being a vicious beating. Finish a job too slowly, that’s a beating. Don’t finish a job, that’s a beating. Perform a job that inconveniences one of the higher ups, even if you were ordered to by yet another higher up, that’s a beating. Be standing at the wrong place at the wrong time, beating. And on so, and on so. Suffice to say that morale, bandages, and able-bodies were running at an all-time low. However, that trend of disproportionate violence should not color her interactions with these men. Or at least that’s what the ticker on the rational half of her brain was saying. Motioning with her clipboard toward the subject reclining on the table next to her, a pleasant woman in her mid-thirties whose stomach carried an unmistakable football-sized lump, she repeated the statement she had made not but minutes earlier. “But that does that change the facts. This woman is well with child now. If she is to return to work, something I highly advise against, it will not be something as perilous as climbing the riggings.”

For a moment, the man’s face seemed to flash scarlet, something dangerous glinting behind his watchful gaze. But it passed, his expression smoothing into a grin. Not a smile, mind you. A smile was a largely subconscious flexing of the muscles at the ends of the mouth, typically associated with pleasure, happiness, or amusement. No, this was more of a baring of teeth, the way a predator might just before it sinks its jaw into a juicy lamb. Leaning over her, he seemed to puff up, his body tightening in the sort of fashion meant to emphasize his physique. “I’m sorry. You know, for a moment there, it sounded like you were giving me an order. Wench.” The emphasis that the lout placed on that last word solidified his actions as an attempt at intimidation. Like all his brothers-in-menace, he had thick corded arms and a wide barrel-like chest well suited to the task of clubbing unsuspecting men and women.

Oh, there was going to be a reaction all right. She didn’t know what poor souls this fellow had been brow-beating into doing his will so long as to give him such false confidence, but she was not some timid mouse to scurry into a hole at the first sign of tension. Some small part of her idly noted that the flimsy wood in her hand had begun to splinter in her tightening grip, but she was too far consumed with current matters to pay it mind. Rising up from her chair with a deliberate slowness, Miss Lavaeu straightened up to her full height. Mind you, he was in no way what most would consider ‘short’, non-human races excluded. But the same could be said about her. In fact, standing at six-and-a-half feet tall naturally plus her high heeled boots, the contentious enforcer did not so much as come up to her sternum. Suddenly it was her who was leaning over him. And from the look on the man’s face, this was something of a new experience for him.

“Why, of course not. I would never be as bold as to tell someone how to do their job. That would be terribly presumptuous of me.” The exotic doctor spoke in an entirely calm and measured tone, each of her words carefully present in such a manner that none outside the situation would have given them much thought. In fact, if not for dripping sarcasm and the rather coy look on her face, he might not even have been able to tell it was an insult.

It seemed that while he was perfectly comfortable being the aggressor, this particular goon did not like it when the tables turned on him. Rather than continue the confrontation with her, he side stepped the Voodoo Doc and instead moved to the far more vulnerable pregnant woman. Wanted to stick to his comfort zone, one might imagine. “Get up. Now. You’re coming with me.”

As he reached to yank the lady up, there was a flicker of movement. Lavaeu’s hand shot out like a striking serpent, catching him by his wrist before he so much as made it halfway to his intended target. When he attempted to push forward, he found himself contested by an unyielding grip. His anger mounting, partially from being disobeyed and partially from the fact he found himself losing a physical contest with a woman, he marshaled his weight and threw it into an attempt to move past his captor. Which was, coincidentally enough, was just the mistake she had been looking far. In a motion as smooth as silk, she raised her left leg and brought it down to stomp on the side of his knee. The blow wasn’t even a matter of strength, really. She barely had to put any effort into it. Muscle was after all something this fellow had in abundant supply, but such a body came with a substantial amount of bulk. All of which he had just shifted on to that foot. With a sickening crunch, the man’s knee suddenly discovered a new way to bend, one which left him writhing on the ground in absolute agony.

“Oh my. Did you trip on these old planks? You really should be more careful.” She said, releasing his arm so that it could fall to the ground with the rest of him.

In a shocking turn of events, the now-crippled strongman choked out an insightful and intelligent observation about his current situation. “AGGH. You. You bitch!”

Twisting around for a moment to conceal her satisfied smile, of which the description of such an facial expression fit her mood to a T, she snatched a small pointed syringe off of a nearby cart. “Such a mouth on this one. You must be in terrible pain. Here. A sedative. To ease the pain.” She cooed, like a mother would to her noisy infant. A shame really, to have to waste their limited resources comforting such an ill-tempered patient, but what could a woman do? She was a healer above all else, after all. Let it never be said that Mumba Lavaeu was not a kind and caring soul.

In a move more reminiscent of stabbing with a knife than injecting medication, she slammed the needle into the man’s neck and depressed the plunger. A direct shot into the vertebral artery, no less. It was impressive that he managed to form even two complete words before feelings its effects.

“You won’t…” He tried to spit out, but the woman who was now his physician held a calming finger to his lips.

“Shh, shh. Nurse, would you find this poor man a bed? I think we should keep him off that leg for a few days. Until the swelling goes down, at least.” One of the dumbfounded observers, who stood witness to the confrontation were suddenly possessed by a powerful desire to not be on their defacto leader’s bad side, and hurriedly dragged the enforcer away. She watched after the two until they were out of sight. The man would be unconscious for a number hours with that dose, and she could very easily keep him that way for the better part of a week if she so desired. Be that as it may, someone might notice his absence after being missing for that long. Which would attract more trouble. Miss Lavaeu chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She did not know how to handle that.

Another voice popped up, one whose opinion she had not even for a moment considered. That of the patient herself. Pushing her back up off the table, the pregnant woman moved as if to stand. “You didn’t have to do that. They’ll come after you now. I can go ba-“

The same intractable will that had stayed the bully’s hand just seconds ago pushed the expectant mother back down, not with enough force to shake her delicate parcel, but definitely enough to let the woman know she meant business. “You will be doing nothing of the sort. All I did was treat that man’s bullheadedness in the most expedient way possible. For his own good.” With was the gospel truth. If he had attempted to escalate matters any further, such as perhaps calling for other guards, the man would have ended up in a far worse condition than he was now. Proactive Treatment, she called it. “And should you attempt to leave this clinic before I deem to release you, I fear you may just ‘trip’ as well. Follow?”

The steel in the doctor’s voice left no wonder as to whether or not she would follow through with her promise. Humans are robust creatures by nature. And if that was what was required to keep her patient in place, then so be it. Fortunately, judging by the frantic nodding that followed her statement, such measures were not going to be necessary.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

[donnervark]

Donner didn't respond to Justin all that much. Rather he absorbed as much as he could and let his ally's apparently superior deductive skills work through the mess. Everything just kind of clicked together, in ways Don mentally kicked himself for not thinking of. Others in ways he couldn't have. But the part about Maple, if it was true, that one he punished himself worst for. She was trying to save him back there, which meant she was in there and fighting. It took a serious effort to keep from grinding his fist on the deck. The more he knew about the world government, the more he wanted them to go BOOM. But to get Maple back? All the more reason to stick with the guys who were drawing the eye of the enemy.

"Thanks." Donner said as he took a long draw from the whiskey bottle. It burned smoothly down his throat, and even after handing the bottle back, kept a bit in his mouth to keep the flavor alive. The burn helped him think, gave him a focus. He'd need to recover quickly. After all, who knows what they will throw at the White Wings next? Who knows when?

"Yeah good idea. I'm a crap writer but I usually don't use a thought once I trap it up here." He tapped on his head with a serious look. "No worries I'll let you be. And thanks for connecting the dots." Still hiding the frustrating pain of climbing with his injured body, Donner brought himself slowly down to the deck. He did so with a sigh, and did his very best to make it unnoticed back into his cabin. He needed rest, time to collect his thoughts and mend his body. It unnerved him a little, having never injured himself to this degree. It was unknown territory for him, fog of war even. How far could he push himself again? Further? His brain ached over the question until he lay down for a nap. Groaning the whole way.

"No dreams tonight you old bastard." He mumbled half-heartedly as he drifted off.

Meanwhile...

"You know she did it again." A cold voice, shrill and etched with age. Echoed in the small communications room.

"Yes. Yes she did." A thunderous voice, from the broad shouldered man at the monitors.

"You've got to do something. The more we tighten the restraints, the more ineffective she becomes. But the looser we restrict her, the more she does this!"

"Be silent you old cretin. I think i have something." He replayed footage from Operative Maple's collar, micro transponder snail. Over and over a specific point. When she failed to assassinate one of the White Wings crew. He was an orange haired man, heavy build, long limbed, fit, but not fast enough to stop her it seemed. She stabs him, but fails to kill. He plays it over and over, narrowing down the clip until he gets to the problem. She leans in on him before she withdraws the sword. The snail doesn't pick up sound, so he could only guess she relayed some secret message by circumventing her neural programming. The massive man leans back, clearing his throat and crossing his arms. "That man." The other man with the shrill voice steps closer to the monitors, as slender as cornstalks and old as death itself.

"A wannabe pirate? Why does it matter?"

"Don't worry why. That is my job. Your job is to find this man, everything from his past to his future. He is our key to getting to "Bulletproof". Trust me." He spoke with utter certainty. There were too many small factors to explain them all, and even then it would take to long to paint the picture. His job was observation. So he was good at observing. And this guy was important to her in some way, that much he was certain. Why else spare him, and whisper a hidden message? A husband? A brother? Definitely not a son. Either way, he could already see how this might get ugly for all parties...but that wasn't his job to speculate upon.

"Are you sure?" The old man asked bitterly, but not argumentatively. The bigger one looked at him as if to say..."Don't insult me." The old man nodded and placed his Marine Vice Admiral cap on his head, and headed out the door, whistling a haunting tune as he left.

"Creepy old crow..." The large man muttered as he returned his workstation to its normal operating standard.

Back to Donner....


“All hands on deck!!! Enemy to the front!!! Prepare to board!!!”

Donner flew from his bed like a bolt of lightning. Flinging sheets and clothing everywhere as he stood for a few moments in a defensive posture. He could have sworn he'd felt a shudder in the ship, but that must have been a dream. Suddenly he woke up and realized what was happening.

"Not good..." He slung both of his new handcannon's onto his brace beneath his shirt. He would need them, as using his Hou Hou no Mi at the moment might be problematic. Once dressed he was back on deck quickly. He made for the cannon closest to Aubrey and planted his foot on it. As soon as he did so something unexpected happened. The cannon became a part of him. As though it was an extension of his leg he simply could move, load, and fire it. He knew it without doing it. "Huh. Handy I suppose." He didn't know if he could always do that, or if that was something new because of his recent stress. It didn't matter really because it wasn't necessarily relevant at the moment. As they closed in on the ship he braced himself, ready to either risk a Launch, or swing over via hook. It was just then that his thoughts were derailed by a sudden epiphany.

"That's a Noble ship!" He turned to Aubrey with a smile. "You sure know how to pick a fight Captain!"

[Aubs]

His crew’s response was well, expected in its unexpectedness. Within a few seconds Justin was crawling out of his room built atop the mast while Donner was stumbling onto the deck, his two large pistols slung around his body. With almost passing interest our hero observed Donner almost fall into a cannon while making his entrance. It almost escaped his notice however that there was more to it than Donner being clumsy, but that he had almost fell through the cannon, molding with the piece. Aubrey didn’t know he could do that, and from the look on his friends face, Donner didn’t really know either. However, they had other things to worry about, like the huge ship to their front.

The captain didn’t see Ren, but it was presumable that he was already at the wheel. The ship did turn gently through the water, aimed now at the side of the titanic vessel that was the target of this raid. This was no Man o’ war or ironclad that they were going after, no this was a cruise ship with many decks and damn near a city on its girth. By comparison the small brig that was the Flight might have been a lifeboat on this ship, albeit a large lifeboat. “The Entitled” as the craft was called, had been pitched as a floating resort for World Nobles that traveled the Blues occasionally and the Grand Line predominately. Unknown to our crew, though a piece of information that would have been very important to the group was that the time spent in the Blues was only used to collect more workers, who were for all intents and purposes indentured servants who spent the rest of their lives trying to get off the ship. This had been going on for at least three generations by now, meaning the oldest worker still there had been slaving for 60 years roughly.

That would have only made the White-Wings angrier, though they would have their fill of emotions shortly. Without much warning the whimsical Kallie came running past the growing collection of pirates on deck and went flying off the edge of the ship, careening over the water on here strange sandals and zooming off towards the enemy.

“Well fuck, so much for time to plan. Let’s do this.” Aubrey said quietly, loud enough that only perhaps Donner and Marius could hear him before raising his voice for the next command. “Ren take us in hard, Ponte get the hooks ready. Justin, Donner, get ready the boarding party!”

What would their welcome be like? Yes Peace Route ships didn’t usually have muscle with them that much anyone on the route could have told you. However, this was a ship owned by the World Government, would there be Marines on board? Either way it was not if the Entitled would know if the Wings were coming, but how far out they would counterattack.

Man they could really use a distraction right now.

---

This was the Peace Route, it was supposed to be safe for this kind of thing. All they needed was a chance to get on board and to start the rebellion certainly was waiting. You could whip a man every day, and that might lame him. But there was always one amongst the flock who was just waiting, waiting to show that he wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a living breathing human, and he would be treated with respect.

On this day, there was one of those men had his wits end. Ethan, full name Ethan “Edward” Baum sat on his small bench in the mess hall. This was the Lower Galley, the same mess hall that the workers assigned to this part of the ship ate in every day. Along with that, each day at least one man or woman was cruelly beaten in front of them by the Peace Keepers just make sure. The Peace Keepers were the grey and black wearing Security Force that patrolled the ship and dealt with the workers. They also had the distinction of “protecting” the Nobles on the upper decks. The Galley was simple in its design, with a line wrapped around the left side of the hall, where a long counter ran along the wall and a glass wall that separated it from the cooks behind it, placing food out into the bins. The metal walls were shiny as were the helmets that the guards wore. Even now a pair was standing in the middle of the mess, with their black pants and white jacket, though they had helmets and fancy clothes compared to what the others would be wearing. They also toted guns and truncheons, just in case they needed to stand out more.

Ethan sat watching the two men, still dressed in his mechanic clothes full of grime and grease, his tool belt wrapped around his waist with the wrenches hanging low. Our friend Ethan was a good 7 feet tall with a prosthetic arm. He had been in an accident many years ago, but thanks to come very capable mechanics he had been given this arm, which had allowed him full function. His overalls hung a bit loose now, as he had lost a good deal of weight in the few months he had been on this hellhole of a ship.

A few days ago the guards had decided it was finally time to deal with the man considered to be the leader of the Workers, an old man called simply Pops. He had been on the original crew of workers some sixty years ago, and through providence alone had survived until this day. Mostly, it was because he had founded the Paradise, a small bunker deep within the ship that no guard knew had to get to where the workers came to relax. That is what had probably gotten him killed in the end, no one could keep their head down that long. The worker population was fuming just beneath the surface, Ethan included. Yes, he had only been here a few months, but in that time the world had changed for him, and now Ethan knew what was important to him…his freedom.

Freedom is what made him do this, it was the only explanation. Even as the two guards stood there talking to one another, they were too superior to notice the once hulking man slink up behind them. Hand trembling slightly Ethan reached for his big wrench strapped to his belt and slipped it gingerly out of its loop. Mouth dry from nerves and eyes bulging he was unsure of what he was really going to do. And then…he saw Pops smiling face in his mind’s eye.

And cracked the first guard’s skull into a million small pieces. Before the other one could even turn around to defend himself Ethan shot out his robotic left arm and clasped around the man’s throat. Weak or not Ethan was still 7 feet tall and stronger than these two idiots. As the guards face went Blue, Ethan came back to his senses, his bloodlust settling as he dropped the man, who was unconscious by now. Without thinking the large hero bent down and took the weapons off both men, keeping a pistol for himself and tossing the other one and the two truncheons onto different tables within reach. Only then did he realize that everyone in the Galley was staring at him. Their eyes bore into him like ‘what have you done?’, and the hatred was mixed with pity and fear in most faces. Feeling very hollow inside Ethan could only muster a single sentence in response for action. “For Pops.”

“For Pops”

Came a small return from some miniscule looking mechanic names Mike. He was nothing special to the outside world, but he had been helpful to Ethan, and he wasn’t going to let him fail at this. “For Pops” came another response as more rose to their feet. A nameless worker came forward and grabbed the pistol off the table, eyes catching Ethan with power. “For Pops.”

A single guard walked into the Galley for his shift. He was shot on the spot by that same worker.

And the yell rang out throughout the hull while the workers piled out into the hallways like a tidal wave. The revolution had started.

---

The hook caught the nearest eyelet and Sean began to pull the ship closer with the help of Marius and Aubrey. The Flight had maybe two hooks for boarding thanks to Justin’s quick thinking at the last port, but the ship they were attack was too big for them to actually take over, so what was the point of all this in the end. The plan so far was easy though, Justin would find some rope ladder of something to lower down so the rest of the crew could climb up. Though that meant that the First Mate would be boarding alone in the meantime while the others made ready. The only one who knew anything else was Aubrey, and he wasn’t saying anything just yet until they actually got onto the ship. The lowest deck, to which they had attached their hook with a good shot from Donner was still 50 feet of a straight climb up from the sails. Also, Donner and Aubrey were probably too heavy to for the single hook to work. Kallie was nowhere to be seen, so her help right now was unlikely.

Maybe this wasn’t the greatest plan ever huh? At least the ships defenses hadn’t spotted them yet, though it didn’t really have cannons to shoot back anyway. Maybe luck was on the White-Wings side today after all.

---

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