The Trial of Morito Goldman

[etarip]

The hood of the yellow rubber laminated raincoat flapped fiercely against the wooden frame of the ship as the vessel approached its destination. The Silver Islands were not your usual tourist destination. The permanent dark clouds camping above the islands nearly ever left their spots. This made rain and wind the norm for the inhabitants of the island. Joseph Carter attempted to cover his drenched hair with the hood of the solid jacket, but found himself thwarted by an earthshaking sneeze. The Marine archeologist then tried to use his sleeves to wipe off the snot, but found the snot disappearing as the rain poured over his hands. ‘Ah yes...the Silver Islands are exactly how I remembered them’ he sighed, a bemused expression on his face. Joseph raised his eyes towards the island and held his right palm over his stomach – though a few weeks had gone by since he had suffered injury at the hands of the deranged Ensign Dawdry, Joseph could feel residual pain both physically and mentally. However, something positive had come of the encounter with the lunatic: Joseph had promised to himself to become stronger. Moreover, already, he was ready to act upon that promise by traveling to the Silver Islands. Time had come to redeem himself.


...


Four days ago, Joseph had still been in the care of the temporary B-2 hospital, licking his wounds and enjoying the comfort of bed. While sipping his breakfast tea and feasting upon his fragrant eggs and bacon, Joseph had read something that made his eyes bulge. On the final page of the South Blue Marine leaflet, a small notice had been printed:

‘The South Blue Marine organization regrets to inform that a case against seaman recruit Morito Goldman will be heard by a special tribunal on the Silver Islands six days from now.’

Joseph scratched his unkempt beard – he had not yet shaved during his stay in the hospital – in puzzlement and fear. ‘Oh no...They acted faster than we anticipated. As was expected for a show trial, nothing was written in the newspaper article about the charges, nor did it contain anything about the identity of the judges. But on the positive side, it did provide the location of the trial. The Silver Islands. The Marine let his eyes wander unfocused for a moment. He had visited the islands on several occasions, each visit being worse than the last. Though its people were very kind and interesting, the windy and rainy weather made it impossible for Joseph to appreciate the island. Additionally, the island was the home of a cold civil war lurking in the darkness. He found the entire issue between the factions ludicrous. The Unfinishistas and their fear of the prophecy of the downfall of the island should the Silver Castle ever be completed, was based on mere superstition. But the Completionists and their fierce wish of completing the construction of the castle was equally foolish; completing the castle would hardly have any kind of noticeable financial or cultural benefit. Alas, such was human nature. Humans had an unfortunate tendency of actively seeking conflict and confrontation wherever they could find it. Few sought mutual understanding and empathy. In a sense, Ensign Dawdry had represented the low-bottom of that same human nature. Or perhaps he had symbolized its pinnacle. Joseph was no longer sure.

Goldman’s imprisonment was certainly the first step in the operation that was going to weed out those who had been involved in the “Ruins Operation” at the B-2 not long ago. Eventually, Joseph would surely also feel the wrath of the mysterious group that had broken into the Vault. Joseph’s face filled with resolution. The time had come to redeem his worth. The time had come to become stronger. Without much analysis, he decided that he would take the first commercial vessel travelling to the Silver Islands. He would escape without notifying his superiors, just in case some of them were in on the Vault-plot. Joseph would then somehow aid Goldman in a prison break, and together they would, with any luck, obtain information that proved their innocence in anything they were accused of. Still in physical discomfort, Joseph stumbled through the rows of hospital beds to pick up the red leaflet that contained information on arriving and departing ships. Following his index finger he moved his eyes down the page, swiftly finding the information he had sought. “14:00 Silver Islands – Supplies and documents to the Marine Base”. ‘Finally some luck..’ Joseph smiled inwardly. In large steps, he moved back to the white hospital bed, and began resting. He would need his strength come tomorrow.

The rest of the day was unremarkable and Joseph spent most of it contemplating upon his journey. Just before Joseph was about to fall asleep, a nurse informed him that all the other patients in his tent were, due to some administrative mistake, placed in some other tent for the night. Such mistakes were a natural part of rebuilding a ruined base, so Joseph thought nothing more of it. Until he was rudely awoken with a rope around his neck.

In heartbeats, calm sleep was replaced by a burning sensation around his neck and the lack of oxygen. The rope felt hard and cold, and though Joseph tried frantically to loosen it with both hands, the strength of his would-be-assassin made it impossible to escape in that manner. Joseph saw his eyesight narrowing as the lack of oxygen became critical. The pain around his neck was no longer an issue. Another ten seconds without oxygen and it would all be over. Joseph let his hands blindly search the vicinity. He could hear various items falling to the ground. And then, he felt a slight pain in one of his fingers. He had cut himself. Frantically trying to get a grip of the surgical knife that had cut him, Joseph felt some degree of hope return to him. With all the strength he could muster, the distressed archeologist rammed the knife into the neck of his assailant. In the same instant, the grip of the rope loosened and Joseph’s sight widened once again. It took a few painful minutes before he could stand up, much less move about. A thick red river was sprouting from the neck of the assassin. Joseph felt nauseous. The attacker was seemingly a young man wearing pitch-black clothes and a grey bandana that covered his face. Only the green eyes of the assassin were visible. Joseph shook his head. Had there been any way to prevent this? ‘No…now is not the time to think’. Mechanically, devoid of any thought, Joseph gathered his precious items into his brown rugged rucksack. As soon as the task was done, he began moving towards the exit of the tent, and escaped into the night. That night, Joseph slept in a small grotto just under the ruined docks. From those very same docks, the ship destined for Silver Island was to depart. He slept, although his sleep was riddled with nightmares of assassins and murder. When Joseph awoke, he was able to think clearly once again. His mind attempted to process everything that had occurred. ‘They must be very confident. To try such a direct approach. I need help Goldman before it is too late’.


...


And that was how Joseph now found himself on a commercial ship closing up to the southern docks of the Silver Island. He glanced briefly upon the humongous Silver Castle as they approached, but found its magnificence of little interest for the moment. First, Joseph would have to identify the prison cell used to contain Goldman. The next step was to obtain plans/construction information regarding that position. Finally, he would have to break Goldman out. To complete all these steps, Joseph would have to turn to the only faction that would not instantly turn him over to the Marines. He was going to have to recruit help from the Unfinishistas.

[James Silverstein]

Morito Goldman sat in his dank prison cell. Cold cuffs of seastone bit into his wrists. It sickened him that the system he trusted so much had betrayed him as such. In the distance, dim church bells rang, sounding to the marine like a death toll. How had they discovered what he and Joseph thought? Was it Kaiser? Possibly, it seemed like she hadn’t run into any trouble with the law yet. Carter? He was the one that suggested the secrecy in the first place, it was unlikely he was the culprit. The last person that knew about their deception was that stupid recruit following ensign Babet. Had she found a way to get the envelope open?
Morito slid back on the wall. Too many thought invaded his mind at once. He needed to get out of here before he could hope to solve anything. Footsteps echoed on the hard stone as someone descended into the prison. At the very least he was being given a mock trial. It would allow him some time to try to escape from whatever trumped up charges had been brought against him. A guard unlocked his cell and latched his cuffs onto a length of chain. Without his Devil Fruit, he had no chance of breaking them through strength.

“What am I charged with,” Morito asked. “The World Government will not stand for wrongful imprison…”

“You know perfectly well what you did Goldman,” The guard said, the words slicing through the chill air. “The death penalty would be a blessing on scum like you.”

Morito’s mouth shut. His grey eyes hardened into steel. “When I get out of here, I’ll be dragging you personally to hell.” He thought.

The doors opened into a bright courtroom. Oak tables and mahogany desks lined the room. They were going all out with the deception. A tall, well-dressed man carrying an attaché case approached him.

“Morito? My name is Lewis Penn, I’ll be your lawyer for the trial.” He said offering a large false smile.

“We both know that this trial is rigged, there’s no need to act.” Morito said with a roll of his eyes. People had begun to file into the courtroom, journalists, and the prosecutor among them.

“Oh come now, why would you think that? Look I need to know everything about that night if I’m going to help you. Where were you when it happened?” Penn questioned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t even know the charges against me yet!” Morito almost shouted at him. Lewis began to open his mouth when a baritone voice rang out.

“All rise.”

Morito quieted and stood as the judge entered the room. “The honorable judge Marx presiding.” The baritone called out again.

“Thank you,” said the judge, sitting. “We are gathered to hear the case of Goldman vs. the World Government. Read the charges.”

The deep voice began to speak again. “Only one charge your honor, first degree murder, against the person of Warrant Officer Joseph Carter.”

[etarip]

The laughter of preadolescent children featured as a prominent background noise on the eastern shores of the Silver Island. The wind had subsided slightly, and the rainclouds had taken a well-earned break from their endeavors, which meant that the children of the island were in a perfect position to visit the always-merry Swimming Monkeys that lived along the coasts of the main island. From his viewpoint on a bench that was neatly placed on top of an elevation just meters from the water, Joseph's eyes occasionally caught glimpses of black fur sliding through the thick aquatic jungles of giant algae. Every now and then, a monkey would express his joy over catching a silver catfish by rocketing upwards from the ocean. It would then raise its arms and click its tongue twice, and finally dive back into the ocean. When their hunting voyages were complete, the swimming monkeys – much to the archeologists surprise and fascination – would emerge from the ocean, their wet fur glistening, and engage in joyful play with the children of the island. The intelligent monkeys had, for instance, somehow learned to play hide-and-seek. Joseph tried to hide a smile. The world was full of mystery indeed.

Joseph had been so distracted that he had not seen a red-haired woman wearing the infamous "Work-Tire" of the Silver Islands sitting down beside him on the wooden bench. He threw a glance at her, letting her features sink in. Her disorderly red hair reached down to her shoulders. She was almost as tall as he was. Though she seemed tired, judging from the dark rings surrounding her eyes, her eyes also possessed another quality. They seemed...distant. It was as if her eyes were reliving memories. Joseph was intrigued. Her slim figure and eyes were pleasing to Joseph's eyes, he admitted. If the circumstances had been different, he might have struck up a conversation. "Quit ogling, and get to business." Her voice was gentle, but her message was not. Joseph, reddening a little from embarrassment, stuttered an answer: "Say wh,- what?" She turned to face him, staring him down. The young Marine was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. She seemed unfazed by his embarrassment, and raised her left arm to reveal a red ribbon. 'Oh…The Unfinishistas,' Joseph thought with embarrassing disappointment. As he had arrived the island (three hours ago), the injured archeologist had visited pubs and establishments that were said to belong to the Unfinishistas. He had told the owners that he was looking to hire the aid of the group, and that they would receive a payment worthy of their contribution. The owners and patrons of the establishments had naturally denied any involvement with the rebellious group. Fortunately, his plan had borne fruit. That fruit was now sitting beside him on the bench.

Joseph fought hard to regain his composure and spoke in a clear voice as the trees began rustling due to increasing wind:

"I am pleased that your superiors chose to communicate with me. I am guessing that you were sent here to negotiate the terms of our agreement?"

The red-haired beauty did not look at him as she spoke. Her distant eyes still seemed focused at something beyond the world.

"You guessed right. But first I want to know," her eyes remained the same, but her mouth narrowed, a sign that she was getting more serious, "why would a Marine require our services? Know that your life depends on this answer. We have a sniper set up nearby. If I deem your answer a lie or I simply dislike your answer, you will die."

Joseph had prepared for this, but he still felt the hairs on his back stand up. After his encounter with Ensign Dawdry, death had become so…real. Once you knew the true name of the death, you were even warier of it. Though he had no speech ready, the Marine had a rough idea of how he wanted to convince the Unfinishista. Before Joseph began, he noticed the almost invisible cluster of freckles on the rebels left cheek. 'That's cute' he thought.

"That's a lot of pressure…but here goes: I seek your aid because you are my only hope of fighting the injustice that hunts me and my friend." He would have to find a balance between telling the truth and holding back vital information that could damage the Marines. "My friend is wrongfully accused of...inciting insubordination within South Blue organization. The real reason for his trial is that one of his superiors is attempting to stop us from delivering information that proves this superior's involvement in smuggling. He attempted to have me killed, and my friend faces a trial on this island. If I can stop the trial, maybe my friend and I will be able to clear our names of the false charges. We are innocent, I promise you."

The distant-eyed woman, who Joseph judged to be about his age, turned her eyes towards him and weighed his answers.

"Innocent? No one is truly innocent, Mr. Marine. We have all done our share of evil deeds. The worst people are those who remain blind to their faults. Are you one of those people, I wonder?"

A flicker in her eyes signaled that something was about to happen. She raised her left hand into the air as if it was the most natural thing to do. Then for what seemed like an hour, nothing happened. No one spoke. Silence descended.

"I have decided that you pass the preliminary examination, Joseph Carter. We checked your background, and nothing implies that you are a person suited for undercover work. So you are most likely not a spy."

Joseph sighed and let his shoulders down. It had been an intense moment. Cold sweat covered his blue t-shirt. He was, however, a little troubled by the words she had used.

"What do you mean by preliminary?"

For the first time, the Unfinishista smiled. It was subtle, and yet, Joseph's heart skipped a beat.

"Our leader wants to meet you."

[James Silverstein]

“Murder!” Morito’s mind screamed “Against Carter?!? Is he dead? What happened? Once I get out of here I’m going to beat the everloving sh-.”

“Mr. Goldman? How do you plead?” Morito cast a glance at his attorney.

“I don’t suppose you made a plea deal?” Morito asked.

“Nope.” The attorney smirked. Goldman stood.

“Not guilty, your honor.” He said in a respectful manner. No need to turn the room anymore against him than they were already. A murmur spread throughout the courtroom. How far would this charade go?

“Present the evidence.” Called the judge, a well-dressed attorney approached the bench and began to speak.

“Exhibit A, we have the murder weapon.” He held up a kodachi, similar to the ones the young marine always carried. It was coated in blood. Another shocked muttering rippled through the crowd. Morito rolled his eyes and sniffed. He furrowed his brow and sniffed again. Something was wrong. The air in the room was heavier than it should be. The spider side of his mind took over. It was definitely the scent of blood in the air. It was the dagger, he knew, but still. The blood was wrong. It wasn’t human. This blood smelled good, like something his spidery senses would tell him to eat. A pig or some other animal, but not a human.

“Objection,” Morito called rising. “As the court is aware, I have heightened senses due to my devil fruit. That blood on the dagger is not human. Human blood smells nothing like that. Also, look at it glisten, the blood is fresh.” He glared hard at prosecution, they were going to use such obviously fake evidence?

“Overruled, we found this in Mr. Carter’s body, there is not mistake as to the origin of the blood.” Morito collapsed as the judge spoke.
“May we see the body?” Morito asked. He would try to win by the rules. Nothing pained him more than to think that he may have to betray the World Government.
“The corpse is still in autopsy and will be presented at a later date.” The judge said authoritatively. Morito rubbed his temples. They were really not even half-assing it. Maybe an eighth-assing? He sighed.

“I need to find a way out of here, before they put the seastone on me again.”

[etarip]

Amidst the hoots of Silver Owls and neighing of horses that carried the inhabitants of the Silver City through the paved streets, two shapes passed through a narrow backstreet somewhere near the heart of the city. On the left stood a dome built of red bricks; even a tourist would unmistakably identify it as the Town Hall. The Marine archeologist was, however, much more interested in the person in front of him. The woman with the heart-shaped face and a pale complexion had made quite an impression on him. His mind raced to come up with new topics of conversation.

"Can I ask you something?" Though perhaps a hint rude, the Marine continued before hearing a reply. "What is it about this "Prophet" that makes you Unfinishistas give your unquestioning faith and loyalty to his ideas?" His question was followed by a painfully long silence. From behind, it was impossible to guess her reaction. When she finally spoke, Joseph held his hand in front of his mouth to conceal a sigh of relief.

"Why do you give your faith and loyalty to the Marines and their ideals of justice?"

The response brought some disappointment. It was one that he had expected.

"I do not. Whatever the world would have you think, you can find Marines with a very different ideas of justice than the one proclaimed by the top dogs of the organization. We are all sapient creatures; our personal ethics vary from person to person."

She twisted her head slightly and glanced at him with the corner of her eye. Her expression was unreadable.

"You assume that we are not the same? Every day we engage in discussions about the Prophet's beliefs and their validity, one way or the other. Every day we doubt and question our faith. We are human too, you know."

The second answers was slightly more perplexing. Perhaps Joseph was simply too naïve or narrow-minded to understand her view?

"Nevertheless, the basis of your belief is a "prophecy" spoken by a mortal man? There is a lot of faith involved. Discuss it all you want. At the end of the day, you are still running on faith."

The red-haired wonder showed no annoyance or anger. As she walked on, the Unfinishista said something that would make a lot of sense soon enough:

"There is nothing I can say that will convince you of the fact that Silver Island will fall if the Castle is completed. As you say, the prophecy relies on premises that have no factual validity. So why do I believe? I believe because I have spoken with the Prophet.” With that, she picked up her pace, and led Joseph through a brick house which belonged to a plump lady with an apron around her waist. She was occupied with creating a fragrant stew, and hardly paid them any heed as the Marine and the Unfinishista passed through the interior of her house. The path took them through the house and into another alley. One furious cat, black fur standing up to signal that any attackers would feel his or her wrath, hissed to two lazy dogs who seemed to ignore the cat. The company had halted, and Joseph's guide was focusing on exits on both sides, as if wondering whether or not it was safe to cross the road.

Just seconds before the prolonged period of wait prompted a question from the archeologist, the redhead closed her fist and knocked on the brick wall five times in quick succession. In a loud and clear voice, she declared a series of numbers that made little sense: “60322051033”. At once, the ground began to shake lightly and dust crumbled from the brick wall before them. A thin rectangular line took shape in the wall, and revealed itself to be a secret passage. The opening held a pitch black stairway that would lead to a location beneath the paved street that ran north of Town Hall. 'Heh...that's amusing. All these years, the leadership of the Unfinishtas have been hiding in close proximity to the center of the Completionists,' Joseph realized. The audacity! The act of foolish courage committed by the Unfinishistas made the Marine gather up his own bravery. Carefully, he asked: “Before we go in...What's you name?” Once again, her eyes ignored him, but she gave a curt, yet strangely satisfying, response: “My codename is Rose. My real name I gave up long ago.” She had told him the truth.

In an engulfing darkness – a reminder of the total and utter nothingness that had haunted the ruins of B-2 – the company of two descended the few creaking, wooden steps that led into the outlines of a door. Light tricked from its corners, and inside jolly music appeared to almost overwhelm the sounds of chatter. Joseph judged that a crowd of at least 10 people awaited them inside; any less, and the chatter would not be so loud. As “Rose” began to open the door, the sounds of the outer door shutting could be heard from behind. And as the door before them opened, spirit-like smoke swooshed into the murky hallway between the outer and inner doors. It was soon accompanied by the sweet, yet foul, stench of alcohol and sweat. One word floated in Joseph's mind as his eyes grew accustomed to the light: Saloon. The room was a stereotypical saloon. On the shelves behind the bardesk were bottles of alcohol brewed and distilled throughout South Blue. Between the shelves and the bardesk was a grizzly man with the looks of a war veteran, calmly polishing glasses and cups with an almost-clean white paper towel. He eyed the newcomers briefly, but saw nothing of interest in them. The rest of the room was covered in sturdy wooden tables and chairs, and on the farthest corner of the left was a grand piano, its player hidden from Joseph's sight. A soft jazz-tune was playing.

The clients of the establishment all wore a red ribbon around their left wrists, but the similarities ended there. A great variety of clothes were exhibited. Some women and men wore the Work-Tire of Silver Island, while others had opted for more unusual attires, such as a rough-looking man (the kind of man most women would enjoy the company of) who wore a comely vest that complemented his brown fedora. On his hip was a holstered shotgun. This particular man swung his chair around and grinned at the recent arrivals. His accent was thick, focusing on the vowels. “Heellloooo, my friends. Good to see you both in one piece.” The drunkard picked up a bottle containing some dark fluid, and took a huge sip, ending it with a loud “aaah!”.

“If you're here, it means our Rose doesn't think you're dangerous! Good, good. Rose is smart, eh?” He looked both at his peers, who ignored him completely, and Joseph. He felt slightly uncomfortable, but nodded nevertheless. “So Joseph. Rose tells me that you want our help, eh? A Marine wanting the help of the Unfinishistas? Haha! I love it! It's almost like something out of a story. So who's this criminal you want to break out of prison, eh?” He responded with an answer that he imagined would be appropriate when dealing with the unusual man: “He is a spider-man.” The man's grin faltered. “A...spider?” Confused, Joseph looked at “Rose” for explanation, but she seemed oblivious to their conversation. “I f-ing hate spiders!” The exclamation made the man fall from his chair. The Marine, no longer able to hold himself back, threw his head back in laughter. 'If this deal falls through because this guy fears spiders...that's just hilarious'. “Rose” eyed him curiously, while the man who Joseph assumed to be the leader of the Unfinishistas, joined him in his laughter. “Hah! You think I fear spiders, eh? I will show you! I will save your friend.” Then, completely in contradiction with the personality he had exhibited so far, the man's eyes went into a serious mode:

“If we help you, I want you to do these things for us...”

A lengthy conversation followed. When the negotiations concluded, Joseph was no longer sure if he had made a good deal.

[James Silverstein]

Morito’s shifty grey eyes searched the room high and low. There was no legal way he was getting out of this. The cover-up was simply too large. He’d end up dead or worse at this rate. Guards were posted around the room but they didn’t seem to be very serious about there job. No one really expected him to make a run for it in this sort of building.

“The next exhibit!” The prosecutor announced with a flourish. “The weapons of Mr. Goldman.” He laid all the kodachi neatly on the table. One was missing. The one covered in some animals blood.

“As you can see, these weapons are one and the same, and undoubtedly came from Mr. Goldman. There is no other explanation other than his being a murderer!” He leveled an accusing finger at Morito. “The penalty of death is too good for this monster.” Crocodile tears welled up in his eyes. “What kind of man can cruelly slaughter his comrade, a HERO, in cold blood? And for what?! How could this man have possibly slighted you?” The prosecutor collected himself. “We need to make sure this man is locked up for a long, long time.”

Morito’s blood began to boil even hotter than it had before. They dared level such slander against him?! Carter was probably the best friend he had in the world! No one else was able to withstand his somewhat insufferable attitude for long. As his anger rose, so did the attention of the guards. Pistols were grabbed more tightly, swords grasped. Morito slowly relaxed. There had to be some way to escape this.

“What’s the best case scenario?” Morito considered while more “evidence” was being presented. “Best case is that Carter is still alive. If that is indeed true he’s coming to rescue me. He’s smarter than to just show up alive, we’d both just be covered up again probably for good. What was more likely was a rescue so that they could prove their innocence. He would need allies of course, but where could he
find some? Gang members? They could probably profit.” Morito breathed deeply.

“If there’s a best case then there’s also a worst case. That would mean Joseph is dead, and no one is coming in that case I need to get away from here before they read the sentence, because they’ll cuff me again. I’ve got maybe an hour if I’m lucky.” The young marine checked a clock on the wall. He’d give it 45 minutes, then make a break for it.

[etarip]

Much about Silver City could be said to meet the definition of the word "amazing". Its castle, a huge feat of architecture that could be seen from far away. Its brick houses and horse carriages, both a testament to the growing economy of the city. The endless sewer tunnels that ran beneath the city, however, were definitely not "amazing". As the unlikely of company of one Marine fugitive and three Unfinishistas, the loyal followers of the Prophet, made their way deeper and deeper into the tunnels beneath the city, the rancid smell was becoming unbearable. Because the disgusting pale-brown fluids that ran through the sewers were warmer than the damp tunnel itself, a ghostly mist of death rose from it to envelop them almost entirely. Joseph could barely see the outline of Rose, the redheaded Unfinishista, in front of him. The walk had been silent, monotone and smelly, so far, so the Marine sought comfort in his thoughts. He contemplated upon the promise he had made to the leader of the Unfinishistas. The man with the unusual accent and the manly clothing style had turned out to be quite the negotiator. Knowing that Joseph had very few realistic alternatives, the charismatic man had pressed his advantage from the get-go. After no more than twenty minutes of intense negotiation, the archeologist had been forced to concede to his demands. In the bowels of the putrid sewers, Joseph shivered at the thought of what he had promised to do. He had come to the Silver Island to save his friend and to clear their names from unknown charges. But in order to do that, Joseph had promised the Unfinishistas to commit another crime. For a Marine, the greatest crime of them all: treason. He had promised to steal and deliver all South Blue Marine documents relating to the situation in the Silver Islands.

Returning from the confines of his mind, Joseph fell into mute panic as he noted the absence of the shape he had been following. 'No, no, no, no...' Being lost in the deepest parts of the sewers was like a death sentence. Heart racing, he sped up, only to find that the way leading forward was shut by a concrete wall. Dismayed at his unfortune, the Marine's mind went into full panic. He shouted for help until his throat was sore, meanwhile running in random directions and colliding with walls at least twice. As all hope was fading, and the prospect of giving up was knocking at the door, the archeologist saw a tunnel where the fetid mist had lifted. 'Might this be a way out?' Joseph mused, hope returning to him. As he entered the mist-free area, a lamp-lit room came into view. It was relatively large, with a sort of prison cell covering the majority of the space. It could be recognized as a cell, because solid metal bars covered the "wall" facing the entrance. However, it seemed rather comfortable, with modern furniture and an enclosed room that must have been a toilet. Joseph suddenly became aware of a pair of bright yellow eyes observing him intently from underneath a brown hood.

"Welcome to my humble abode, friend."

Joseph shivered. But not in a bad way. The deep rumble that was the prisoner's voice seemed so unbelievably charismatic and powerful that it made Joseph forget about the smell. Before he could answer, the hooded creature spoke again:

"How odd. It seems that my first visitor in years is a Marine. You should tuck in that t-shirt a little better, others might notice." The man stated in a matter-of-factly manner, not a trace of mock in his voice. Joseph looked down in spite of himself and saw that the edges of the standard-issued Marine t-shirt were hanging loose just underneath his coat. "Thanks...Who are you? What the hell are you doing down here? How do I get away from here?" Joseph had so many questions, but most of all, he wanted to find the party of Unfinishistas again so that they could commence the rescue operation. The yellow eyes seemed to narrow.

"Now now, Mr. Marine, won't you entertain me for a while? If you do, I will give you directions to where you want to go." Joseph nodded reluctantly. "Good! Sit down, if you wish." From underneath the brown hooded coat a sickly, thin arm appeared. It beckoned Joseph to sit on the stool in front of the cell. Joseph agreed, but as he was about to sit down, he almost fell when realizing the identity of the man. "Wait a second now...from what I've read about the Silver City...are you the Prophet?"

The man lowered his voice when he answered: "Yes, that is the name my friends and followers gave me. My real name is actually less impressive...it's Dave." The Marine's initial disbelief turned into a constrained laughter. The Prophet's reaction, if there was one, was concealed by the hood. The mood had lightened considerably, and Joseph felt secure enough to ask a few questions:

"So tell me, what exactly are these prophecies of yours? The Unfinishistas seem to have an unfaltering belief in your teachings."

"I admit, I do not know the exact nature of the visions. But I can tell you the story of how I received the...gift." The emphasis on the word "gift" sounded ominous. The archeologist knew already that the Prophet found it more of a curse than a gift.

"There was once an orphan. A lonely, hungry boy who would do anything to escape from that life. So when people came looking for volunteers to an exploration mission to the Grand Line, that child stood first in line. As naive as he was, he thought he had made a bargain. Those involved would receive a huge salary and some land on the Grand Line. However, when they arrived, doctors in white coats brought them into a place with strange technology. Then the madness began. Those who had taken the bait were subjected to experiments, tests and worse. After years and years, the boy, now a grown man, was thrown into the ocean to be eaten by whichever Grand Line monster that would eat his toxic body. But he survived somehow. He survived, but his existence could hardly be called a "life". His mind was in a perpetual chaos, forever entwined in a battle between invisible forces. As time went by, he adjusted. He managed to find some inner calm. But he was haunted by some kind of visions. At first he thought of them as madness. But soon, he found that they depicted real events...real events that had not yet occurred."

Joseph was speechless. Who could have done something like that to a young boy?

"And if I am to be truthful, I have seen you, Joseph Carter, you and a certain spider-man, in my visions. Difficulties await you, I am afraid. You will be tested beyond your imagination. And in the end, you might have to face the worst enemy of them all: your own doubts."

Joseph was processing the information he had been given, but lost focus as the Prophet reached for something underneath his coat. "In my visions, I have seen that you wish to become stronger. I believe this will either help you or corrupt you, so consume it at your own peril. It contains a primal power. So primal that the weakminded will be consumed by its rage." From between the metal bars, Joseph picked up a sickly yellow pomegranate that had been cracked to reveal light red flesh and yellow seeds. "A Devil's Fruit!" Joseph exclaimed in awe. "How I can ever thank you for this? Can I tell the Unfinishistas of your location so they can save you?" The Prophet paused, and then replies with sadness in his voice: "No, the time for my escape has not yet come. And what you can do for me...survive and get to the bottom of the mystery that haunts you. Now go! There's not much time."

The Prophet pointed at a concealed door on the left wall of his room. Joseph bowed in deep respect. "Thank you for everything. I hope that one day we will meet again. As free men." Without further words, Joseph ran through the door, only to find the three Unfinishistas preparing the dynamite. The heart-shaped face of Rose seemed genuinely shocked to see him. "That's a surprise. You are one of the lucky few to have escaped the sewers after losing one's way. Nevertheless, we are ready to blow the floor of the courthouse. Step back..." Joseph followed her orders. And then he did something entirely out of impulse. He ate some of the yellow fruits, ignoring the sour juices and the disgusting aftertaste. Soon, he would find out the nature of the fruit he had consumed. And to his own surprise, he was genuinely excited.

"BOOOM"

The concrete floors of the courthouse came crashing down, pieces of concrete making large splashes in the fluids that ran through the sewers. In the mist and dust that covered his eyesight, Joseph also saw the outlines of several people falling, shocked looks on their faces. He hoped that Morito was okay.

[James Silverstein]

Morito watched the minutes tick by as the prosecutor droned on and on. There was nothing that could be done on his part. His attorney was of course simply pretending to be interested until it was his turn to speak. That, surprisingly, was an opportunity that came sooner than Goldman expected. His lawyer stood and straightened out his suit, before approaching the stand.

“The defense calls Morito Goldman to the stand.” The young marine’s one hope against disappearing forever. Even if the hope wasn’t trying. Goldman stood and walked up the steep steps onto the platform. Sinking low into the smooth wood chair, he checked the clock. About thirty minutes had passed since he’d settled on his plan. Refocusing, he attempted to not scoff at the questions posed to him.

“Mr. Goldman, where were you around the time of Mr. Carter’s death?” Morito shook his head, searching for where his kodachi were stored in the process.

“I was walking along the beach near B-2. I hadn’t visited it since my childhood and missed the sight.” Morito hoped that by evoking the jury’s sympathy he could get them off their guard for his coming escape.

“AHA! He was looking for an escape route!” Shouted the prosecutor. Morito nearly banged his head on the table. This was frustrating to say the least.

“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t kill Joseph Carter! He was one of my best friends and…” Goldman began. The opposing lawyer got cartoonishly excited and jumped up.

“YOU referred to him in the past tense! You haven’t seen the body so how do you know Carter’s dead! Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I think you have more than enough evidence to convict this man. We have a murder weapon, was near the crime scene by his own admission, and even has knowledge of his death without proof!” The spider-man looked up to the judge.

“Your Honor…”

“Overruled. Mr. Goldman, the evidence has mounted too greatly against you. There is little more to do. The jury will now convene and decide a verdict. Morito sat back in a huff and stared at the clock again. 40 minutes. In 5 he would break out of here.

The jury returned with little time to spare. Morito was slowly pulling himself into hybrid form. No one had seemed to notice yet. “Has the jury reached a decision?” Morito asked, knowing full well he’d be found guilty and executed.

“We the jury find the defendant…” Morito felt something quiver his setae. There was a draft coming up from a vent. People moving? “Morito Goldman…” They were under the building! What were they doing? Had someone come to rescue him? A swift motion of an arm underground gave away the lighting of a match. “Guilty, on all counts. His sentence is…” Morito sprang from his chair, scooping the kodachi in a fluid motion, and firing his webbing to slow the fall. “Deat…” The room exploded.

The screaming of the courtroom almost drowned out the resounding of explosives. Morito’s delicate thread snapped and he fell rapidly to the basement. Storing weaponry midfall, he avoided having a sudden, pointy end to his adventure. A redheaded girl stood up coughing. She hadn’t been in the courtroom.

“Who are you? And why did you rescue me?” Goldman demanded.

“There’s a time and a place for chatting, right now let’s just get as far away as possible from here.” The girl bolted down a tunnel, apparently made for the express purpose. One of her compatriots counted off everyone running down the hall. Morito hardly paid attention to the names, when one suddenly caught his ear.

“Carter?”

Morito turned slowly hoping that his only… friend, was still alive. He quietly began to speak, just audible over the sounds of chaos in the courtroom.

“Joseph?”

[etarip]

So many things were happening at once. The white fog rising from the rivers of filth had been replaced by the black smoke that followed an explosion. It made visibility even more of an issue than it had been, and the acrid smoke was clearly irritating Joseph's eyes. He rubbed them with his palms, but this only seemed to increase the problem. Meanwhile, the Marines that had been present in the courthouse regrouped and turned to anger. "Get Goldman! Dead or alive!" one particularily agitated voice ordered. Immediately, someone responded by firing a rifle. The situation was becoming dangerous. When people began shooting in the dark, it was time to get the hell away from where you were. Luckily, Rose was of the same opinion.

“There’s a time and a place for chatting, right now let’s just get as far away as possible from here.” Who was she talking to? A sharp pain shot up his back at that moment. He felt himself stretching and widening, he felt his muscles grow larger, pushing forcefully towards his skin, he felt tufts of hair pop up throughout his body. Everything was changing. He was becoming something else. Two of his upper teeth were becoming gigantic fangs. Surprisingly, those fangs felt hollow and weak. But that was not all. His mind and thoughts were also changing. A primal anger, an anger that had been a prisoner deep within his mind for a long time, was released. All coherent thought turned into one single primitive instinct: he wanted to destroy and devour those that had threatened him and his friends. Hostility would be met by a more dangerous hostility. That was the way of the nature. Just as he was about to release a mighty roar, piercing everyone present with fear, he heard a familiar voice. It calmed his rage: “Joseph?” Morito was in his hybrid form, and looked well when considering his recent challenges. His grey eyes were as unreadable as ever. "Morito! Thank god you're alright. I don't know what's happening, but I know that someone wants us dead. You've shown an exceptional ability to make good decisions in tight spots, so I'm relying on you to make some in the days that follow as well." Joseph gave a reassuring smile. Though not many weeks had gone by since the incident at B-2, it was darn good to see him, the warrant officer admitted to himself. Then the moment of calm passed, and he remembered that he had just become a giant feline creature – covered in smooth fur - with two terrifying fangs. Before the madness overcame him, once again, the archeologist understood that he had consumed a zoan type Devil's Fruit, and was now fully transformed into some kind of unknown animal. It was not an animal he had seen, nor read about. 'Perhaps some kind of Grand Line species?' he mused as his mind darkened. And then he roared. The confusion and chaos that surrounded the tunnels and the courthouse were overshadowed by the fierce roar. It was a roar worthy of the title "primal". Remembering the Prophet's words, Joseph attempted to fight it, but felt his sanity run into hiding.

Purely out of instinct, Joseph fell onto four legs and pounced to the left of the spider-man. He extended his paws and felt the impact as they hit a Marine recruit. The poor youngling was thrown into the air and landed with a painful "thunk" unto the hard floor a few meters away. Power surged through the Marine archeologist. It felt...liberating. It was the strength that he had never possessed. He roared again, making some of the other Marines take a few steps away from the fanged creature, worry covering their faces. Joseph felt a trickle of control return to him. "When we get out of here...aarrrgh...please help me control this power," Joseph mumbled incoherently to his companion. Morito had been a zoan-user long before he had set his eyes on the fruit, so Joseph hoped that Morito could give some advice.

The readheaded beauty darted swiftly towards the other end of the tunnel. That was the cue for them to escape. They would have to regroup at the Unfinishista-HQ, and then find some kind of evidence of the conspiracy that had made the two Marines fugitives. It was time to fight back.

[James Silverstein]

Something wasn’t quite right about Joseph. His voice sounded strange and the tone struck Morito as almost feral. In the poor light, Goldman couldn’t see his friend well, but his Kankaku didn’t lie. Something had physically changed about Carter. Besides the fact he was on all fours.
"When we get out of here...aarrrgh...please help me control this power," He said. The seaman recruit’s ears perked up. Power? Joseph’s body had obviously changed, but…

“Did you eat a devil fruit!?” Morito yelled out over the chaos. At the same time one of his rescuers tugged hard on his sleeve.

“COME ON! They’ll have us surrounded any minute!”

Turning his head, Morito got down on all 8 and skittered as fast as his legs would carry him down the hall. So many questions raced through the spider’s mind. Where were they going? Who were these people? How had Joseph convinced them to help?

“When’s lunch?” His primal spider brain spoke up. Morito shook his head. There were far more important things to focus on currently. Glancing back, Goldman realized he’d quickly outpaced almost everyone except… was that Joseph? He couldn’t tell in the light and at this speed Kankaku was useless. Still, it would be mighty impressive if anyone was keeping up with him. Marines were charging through the halls too, and slowly gaining on the slower group members. Jumping on to the wall, Morito climbed to the ceiling and skittered back. He didn’t want to hurt the marines, even now. His rescuers almost certainly had no such qualms. He had just reached the gap between the pursuers and the escapees when Morito launched his trap.

“Hair needle!” Morito yelled as he fired off the fine, irritating hairs in his sides. It was an effective crowd control weapon and seemed to give the others the distraction they needed. Dropping back to the ground, Morito sprinted faster, trying to catch back up with the others. His spider limbs quivered. They weren’t meant to support his full weight on only half his extremities. Goldman was forced to climb to his feet and pull himself back to fully human form. He’d need to give those legs a rest for a while.

“Ok, 3 things, who are you, where are we going, and what the hell happened to Carter?!” Morito yelled up to the redhead. She seemed to be the orchestrator of this madness. A gun went off behind them followed immediately after by the ping of a ricochet.

“We’re the unfinishistas, you’ll find out when we get there, and I don’t KNOW! Just run!” She yelled back. A wafting air seemed to be coming from further ahead, pushing away the dank oppressive stench of the tunnel. Something was coming up and it looked like a good thing. Another round flew past the group.

“And not a moment too soon” Morito mumbled.

[etarip]

Joseph did not have a very clear idea about how he had managed to follow the Unfinishistas and Morito through the tunnel and back into the saloon-like Headquarters. All he knew was that barrages of bullets had been fired on both sides and that Morito had used his hair needle ability to great effect, and that he was now a newborn, confused Devil's Fruit user. The Prophet had, albeit cryptically, warned him of the effects of the fruit's powers. The archeologist had ignored his words, unconsciously considering them exaggerations or underestimating his own will-power. That had been an obvious mistake. Every power came with some sacrifice.

The warrant officer had just woken up, his muscles and bones feeling tired and stretched out and his head heavy. He opened his eyes to see what he thought was a red brick pattern on the ceiling above his bed. On second look, Joseph realized that it was no pattern. Rather, it was a well-crafted brick mural depicting the speech of the Prophet in the Town Square six years prior. The mural was surprisingly pompous and grand for an underground movement, and must have been crafted by a skilled artist indeed, Joseph mused. Slowly, trying to shake off the exhaustion, the Marine stood up from the mattress he had slept on. The saloon was almost empty this time. Chairs and tables had been pushed aside to clear an open space in front of the bar counter. In the middle of this open space was a round table covered in maps, documents and the occasional pistol. Gathered around were a few Unfinishistas, Rose and the leader of the organization included, their stern faces scanning through the information on the table. Joseph had seen Morito before collapsing, so he was almost certain that the spider-man had made it out. He could however, not see Goldman anywhere in the smoky saloon. This gave him an opportunity. Aches appeared in several places as he walked towards the leader of the Unfinishistas. On route, he gave Rose a appreciative smile but found it unreciprocated. The archeologist understood; after all, his Devil's Fruit had probably caused unwanted complications to their operations. Joseph shook off the disappointment and turned towards the leader to whisper something:

"Just a reminder, please don't tell Morito what I promised you in exchange for the help you've provided..." In an unexpectedly professional manner, the leader of the organization nodded, his eyes firmly planted on a map over the Silver Islands. "Now you tell us what happened to you, eh? Your goddamn transformation put the whole operation at risk, friend!" The faces of the Unfinishistas around the table turned towards him. This was no joke to them. "Listen, I'm terribly sorry about that...I accidentally happened to find a Devil's Fruit, and...erhm, I accidentally ate it as well..." Joseph lied. The leader sighed and clicked his tongue in a disapproving fashion. "Whatever, man. Keep your secrets to yourself. Anyway, Judge Marx lives here," he pointed at a building complex in south-western corner of the island close to the coast, "he'll be guarded, so good luck with that".

Joseph knew that he had only bargained for help in the rescue operation; they would have to face the rest of their trial alone. Nevertheless, the archeologist asked Rose for a private talk. Reluctantly, she accepted his request, and followed him to one of the meeting rooms adjacent to the saloon. Joseph coughed awkwardly, and asked her the question that had been on his mind since he woke up: "So...uhm...I appreciate everything you've done for us. And though you don't have any obligation to give us further assistance...would you want to join us for the rest of the operation? We need to find proof of the corruption behind this trial." Rose gave away no reaction at first, but then, to Joseph's major surprise, she consented: "I'll help you...but only because the Prophet, before he disappeared, spoke to me about certain Marines that would suffer hardship. I'm starting to think that he was speaking of you and Goldman". Joseph gave himself a mental high-five and smiled. "Thank you! I need to discuss something with Morito. After that we can leave."

Cheerful and surprised at the outcome of the conversation, Joseph trodded throughout the HQ until he found Morito. More confident than he had been for a long time, Joseph enquired:

"Glad to see you alive and well, my friend. Before we go off fighting this unknown mystery of ours...could you teach me the basics of being a zoan-user?"

[James Silverstein]

Morito was grateful to burst into the cool air of the Silver Islands. He had hardly a second to take it in before Rose grabbed him again and yanked the poor marine down a side alley. They took a series of twists and turns so dizzying Morito completely lost track of where he was. Perhaps on purpose, Goldman had no idea where he was once they arrived at the Headquarters. Joseph looked just as exhausted and confused as him. Sitting down in the saloon-like interior, Morito finally demanded his questions be answered. Sighing, the red-head turned to him.

“My name’s Rose, we’re the Unfinishistas, and your guess is as good as mine for what happened to your friend. He almost got us killed dammit!” She turned in a huff and marched off. Morito looked Joseph over in the better light. He seemed to be completely normal now but… what was it he’d felt in the tunnel? Goldman felt fairly sure it was a devil fruit of some kind considering the Warrant Officer’s strange request earlier. Before there was much chance to ask about it, Goldman was led to a small room. A simple bed and desk sat in the corner. He supposed he could sleep here.

“Oh, before you leave,” He said, turning to the large man that had led him, “Do you have any meat and a blender? I’m starving.” The huge Unfinishista rolled his eyes and left. Defeated and hungry, Morito lay back and tried to sleep.

The strangest dream came while he fitfully tossed about in the headquarters. A large spider crawled it’s way through the low grass, sprinting as fast as it could towards a formless black blob in the distance. The more steps it took, the further it’s goal seemed to shrink away. Suddenly the ground bucked and trembled beneath it. Pounding it’s way over the lifeless plain came a huge cat, that, with one swift movement, picked up the spider and gained speed. The two flew at incredible speed towards the massless blob when suddenly…

Morito’s eyes snapped open as his stomach roared. Groaning, he stood and began shuffling towards the kitchen. He really wanted some meat. He always got strange dreams when he was hungry. He was passing through the hallway when he heard voices talking in the main room.
“…Don’t tell Morito…” Smiling slightly, Morito began transforming. He wasn’t normally an eavesdropper, but this simply proved too tempting. An underground resistance movement? Talking about him? That was information that could prove useful one day.

Now a fully transformed spider, he scurried into the main room and hid himself in a corner.

“he'll be guarded, so good luck with that".

“So...uhm...I appreciate everything you've done for us. And though you don't have any obligation to give us further assistance...would you want to join us for the rest of the operation? We need to find proof of the corruption behind this trial." Joseph’s voice? Goldman found himself more and more interested in what was going on.

"I'll help you...but only because the Prophet, before he disappeared, spoke to me about certain Marines that would suffer hardship. I'm starting to think that he was speaking of you and Goldman"

“Now a prophecy comes into play?” Morito found himself thinking. This was starting to get a little odd for him.

"Thank you! I need to discuss something with Morito. After that we can leave.” Joseph said.

Goldman hurried into the kitchen before turning back. By the time Joseph found him, the spider man was busy blending a steak of some unidentifiable animal into a puree. Carter looked just as happy to see him as Morito felt to see Carter.

"Glad to see you alive and well, my friend. Before we go off fighting this unknown mystery of ours...could you teach me the basics of being a zoan-user?" An air of unparalleled confidence came from Joseph, something good had obviously happened.

“I was wondering about that! I couldn’t figure it out in all the chaos yesterday, but I knew you’d changed somehow. So it’s a zoan fruit?” He took a deep gulp of his smoothie. It tasted like a cross between deer and sewer sludge, but he didn’t care. Hunger won over. “From what I saw yesterday I’m guessing it was a big cat of some kind?” Goldman broke out into a huge smile. “That’s awesome! I can’t wait to see it.” Finishing off his drink, Morito wiped his mouth. “Let’s get a bit more space just in case. Don’t want to destroy the kitchen.”

[etarip]

For a man who had been through a perilous scouting mission in the ruins of B-2, a wrongful imprisonment on an island he knew nothing about, and a less-than safe rescue operation, all in the course of a few weeks, Morito seemed surprisingly intact. With a mix of curiosity and disgust, the archeologist watched as the spiderman blended a delicious-looking steak into a watery mash. 'Sacrilege!' his inner feline predator cried. A mental image formed, of Joseph, altered into his full zoan transformation, sprinting through vast, open grasslands, hunting for his next prey. The idea of consuming the flesh of a prey made the Marine's mouth water.

“From what I saw yesterday I’m guessing it was a big cat of some kind?” Morito asked, a warm smile appearing on his face.

Joseph scratched the unshaved whiskers that had appeared on his chin, thinking back to his transformation: "You're right. But as to the species, your guess is as good as mine. I have neither seen nor read about a feline creature with such fangs. As an archeologist, I've read about many of the extinct species that roamed the world in ancient times, but I have not seen this. It's kind of fascinating! Another mysterious aspect of the world." Joseph replied yearningly. Discovering the world's mysteries had been his main motivation for joining the Marines. With the Devil's Fruit, he felt as if he had become a mystery himself.

Emptying the cup of horrendous meatmash, Joseph's comrade suggested that they should clear some space in order to leave the kitchen intact. "Good thinking," Joseph chuckled. Energetically he commenced by moving chairs, tables and some of the other kitchen equipment that was misplaced on the floors. Once an opening had been made, the newborn zoan-user placed himself in the open space, opposite to Goldman, and focused upon his powers. With some embarassment, he conceded to Morito that he had no clue as to how the transformation worked: "Uhm...I think I know how to transform into full form and back. The transformation to full form is effortless, but transforming back...oh boy, it takes some willpower. Is there a trick to transforming into hybrid form, by the way?"

Awaiting a response, the catman closed his eyes and focused on the primal rage somewhere within the confines of his mind. Like a candle, it illuminated a dark corner of his brain, one that had been left alone for far too long. Once he touched it, the minor flame turned into wildfire, covering all nooks and crannies within him. The fire was madness, the fire was fear, the fire was strength. Joseph opened his eyes at that moment to observe his transformation from the reflection in the window left of him. A thick, yet smooth fur began covering his body. The maize colored fur felt comfortable upon his skin, until the bulging muscles began pressing upon his skin once again. The sensation was not as uncomfortable as it had been, but it still made him clench his teeth in agony. Two of his upper teeth grew in size. Joseph noted once again how hollow the teeth felt; he would have to be careful when utilizing those. Hands and feet transformed into feline paws, sharp claws becoming visible. It was a majestic transformation.

Falling onto four legs, he ignored the urge to roar. Now that he was no longer surrounded by enemies, he felt a greater degree of control. Sure, he still wanted to bite his teeth into the flesh of a meaty animal, but the want was now controllable. He turned to Morito:

"This power...it feels amazing!" He exclaimed. "Did you, and do you still, feel the same euphoria when transforming into a spider? And how was it that you came by your fruit? I don't think I've heard the story yet." Joseph glanced around, making sure that no Unfinishista was listening in on their conversation: "By the way..." Joseph began, his youthful embarassment on blatant display, "What do you think of Rose? I was thinking that once all this is over, I might suggest to her that she joins the Marines. After all, that might enable her to support the Unfinishistas through legitimate channels...uhm...yeah. And she's nice, don't you think?"

A light shade of red covered his face. The archeologist feared that his fellow Marine might shrug it off as a childish infatuation. But in all honesty, there was no one else he could talk with in regard to these things. He had made many acquaintances, and even a few people he considered as friends, in the Marine organization. And yet, Joseph acknowledged that none of them were really 'close'. In Morito Goldman, he felt that he had a true friend.

[James Silverstein]

“Uhm...I think I know how to transform into full form and back. The transformation to full form is effortless, but transforming back...oh boy, it takes some willpower. Is there a trick to transforming into hybrid form, by the way?" Joseph said, sounding fairly embarrassed. Morito listened carefully as they finished rearranging the kitchen. His grey eyes reflected memories of those days, back when he first got the fruit. He’d indeed experienced the same thing Joseph talked about now.
As he formulated a response, the spider-man transformed himself into hybrid form. He felt it to be his most effective form for combat, which he imagined they’d be doing for at least some training. Behind Goldman, Joseph took on his full form, a huge cat with large fangs. It was truly an intimidating sight. The muscles rippled beneath it’s fur and denoted strength great enough to tear anyone limb from limb. Morito paused momentarily at the sight. It was something he’d seen before. Out of a half-remembered dream. Shaking his head Morito gave his response. “This may be a cheesy analogy, but the best way I can think of to explain it is this. Think of it as now having another mind inside you, that of the animal. There’s really two ways to go about it. You can completely subjugate the beast inside, telling it what to do and when to do it. This will probably give you the best control of your power, but at the same time would crush that primal rush you get when transformed. The other way is to form a harmony with these new feelings. You keep many of your instincts, but it’s harder to control yourself sometimes. I personally have made a harmony. It’s why I have these strange cravings for liquefied meat, or the urge to leap at insects.” He continued with a slight smile. “Complete subjugation requires a lot more willpower. To reach hybrid form, the best advice I can give is to try to let some of all that energy you feel leak out a little bit at a time. Eventually you’ll become a cross between man and animal. That is where the full power of a zoan lies in my opinion.” Goldman finished his speech and the fully transformed Carter asked another question.
"This power...it feels amazing!" He exclaimed. "Did you, and do you still, feel the same euphoria when transforming into a spider? And how was it that you came by your fruit? I don't think I've heard the story yet." Goldman recoiled in surprise. No one had ever asked how he’d come across the Goliath Spider fruit before.

“As for the euphoria, it’s not the same as it once was. I did feel the power, but now it’s more controlled. Closer to a cool burn rather than a huge rush of explosive energy. It gives me more control over my power I believe. The story of my fruit…” The seaman recruit trailed off a moment. “It’s really a long story, but suffice to say I hunted down my fruit specifically. I found an expert on the fruits, who happened to actually own one. In exchange for a… favor, he gave it to me. I still have yet to hold up my end of the bargain, but I hope I’ll be able to one day.” Joseph looked over his shoulder before talking again, this time in a lower voice.

"What do you think of Rose? I was thinking that once all this is over, I might suggest to her that she joins the Marines. After all, that might enable her to support the Unfinishistas through legitimate channels...uhm...yeah. And she's nice, don't you think?" Morito listened as his commanding officer turned a light shade of rosy red. Did Carter have a crush? Goldman did the best he could to contain his mirth before speaking.

“Carter has a crush?” He said with a broad, joking grin. It was really surprising how well Joseph was able to bring out his good side. Most people did little more than irritate the spider-man. The fact that Morito was in such a good mood around the Warrant Officer all the time was a testament to their charisma. “I haven’t talked to her much, but she does seem nice and, though I believe her beliefs are misguided, she stands firm in what she holds true. If we get out of this alive and clear our name I’m willing to turn a blind eye to her past if she joins the marines.” Morito stretched a moment to loosen up his limbs. “Let’s see if you can get that partial transformation. Also, if we have time, it might be prudent just to do a combat exercise or two. No use in having the power if you can’t use it.”

[etarip]

Morito's response to Joseph's questions was overwhelmingly generous and detailed. The spiderman began by metamorphosing into his hybrid form, presumably both as a demonstration of the process itself, and to prepare for some combat training later on. From two holes in his shirt, spider-legs sprouted. It was a truly fascinating change. Analytically, Goldman proceeded by categorizing two separate methods of gaining control over a zoan power: subjugation and harmony. Explaining both the pros and cons of the two methods, the seaman recruit revealed that he himself had chosen the harmony-route when dealing with his fruit. The archeologist found himself in strong agreement with Morito's preference; to subjugate the feline creature would effectively terminate the natural fury of the power. That would not do. Joseph nodded eagerly, letting each word sink in. The spider then gave him a lesson on the mechanics behind the hybrid transformation. This information would become useful in a few minutes.

Goldman then wove an intriguing (and incomplete) tale of how he had obtained his fruit. 'Hmm, so there are people in the world that are experts on Devil's Fruits. That's both fascinating and a little scary...these people must possess a lot of indirect power'. Joseph kept his thoughts to himself; clearly, Goldman was not yet ready to reveal the promise that he had made to obtain the fruit, so it was better to let the topic go. In all honesty, the vague answer had made him even more curious.

In response to his final question, Goldman alternated between a little friendly teasing and a serious answer. The spider was willing to let Rose's anti-government actions go. This meant more to Joseph than he could possibly describe or explain, so he replied with a happy grin.

"Let’s see if you can get that partial transformation. Also, if we have time, it might be prudent just to do a combat exercise or two. No use in having the power if you can’t use it.” Goldman continued. The cat returned to his human state, and then began to visualize the gradual "leaking" of his power. He touched the candle of primal fire in his mind gently. It began scorching his mind, but did not turn into the furious wildfire that Joseph had come to expect. In fact, he felt warmth spread throughout his mind, like a comfortable bonfire you stared at during the night. Outwardly, the newborn zoan-user grew a thin, cosmetic layer of fur throughout his body. His muscles grew, though not nearly as greatly as in full form. Additionally, a somewhat comical feline snout, whiskers and two vampire-like fangs appeared on his head. Finally, his hands and feet became paws with no claws. After a brief moment, he felt his legs hurt, forcing him to bend his knees. 'Damn, my legs can only support the metamorphosed body if I bend my knees slightly,' Joseph thought with some regret. Bent knees would take some time to get used to. And truth be told, his hybrid form appeared much less majestic than had the complete transformation. His current appearance could be described as a cross between a human, a cat and a vampire with bad legs. Rather than mortified, an opponent would most likely be amused by his appearance. 'No matter...as long as I can use the strength of this form, the appearance doesn't matter,' the cat remarked to himself, reminding himself that appearances meant nothing in battle. A memory came to him.

_

It had been a long day for the 19 year old Joseph Carter. As a Marine recruit, he had duties of all kind to take care of. Everything ranging from cleaning and archiving of documents, to surveillance of known pirates and educational campaigns in local schools, were valid training for a seaman recruit. Before going to sleep exhausted, he normally read, educating himself further in the ways of the archeologist. Tonight, however, his assigned officer announced that he had guest waiting at couches in the lobby of B-2, the South Blue Marine base. The young Marine had no clue as to the identity of this mystery visitor. All his family members were on various expeditions and mission. Some of them on archeological digsites in the Grand Line, others in the four blues, trying to uncover the mysteries that still existed in the relatively calm waters of the blues. To his surprise, he found his mother, Martha Carter, reading some kind of Marine magazine that entertained visitors. The grimace on her face told him that she was disapproving of the contents. And as she saw her son approaching, she shook her head: "Honestly, there are enough mistakes in this article concerning the rise and fall of the Hulalala Empire to create an article about those mistakes...Jeez!" He grinned. His mother was a scholar notoriously known for her war against misinformation. She embraced him in a hug, and patted his head, making his hair even more disorderly than it normally was. "How are you, son?" she asked warmly. Before he could answer, she raised a glass cage that had been patiently waiting on the couch: "A gift for you! I procured this on my Grand Line expedition." Joseph stared at the seemingly empty glass cage. "Great to see you, mom. But I don't see anything?" With a cheeky smile, she replied at once: "Look closer." Squinting, the Marine finally saw a fluffy harmless-looking creature that had concealed itself in the dirt that covered the lower half of the cage. "Wow!" Without thinking, he opened the lid of the cage and grasped at the creature. Too late, his mother yelled him to not touch the creature. He felt a sting, and passed out after a few seconds.

Waking up in a hospital two days later, Joseph discovered that the fluffy animal created a sort of toxin when in fear, paralyzing the victim. His mother told him something that he would not easily forget: "Treat everyone and everything with respect and a slight hint of care, and your life will be much easier, son. And remember, even the most harmless-looking creature or man might turn out to be the devil."

_

Her words were as true today as they had been back then. He still lived by them. Bending his knees, Joseph smiled at Morito: "A combat exercise, you say? What do you have in mind? Let me try this first!" The cat bent his knees even lower, readying an agile leap, and darted towards the hybrid spider, his paws held before him, ready to strike. Joseph felt himself gasp at the speed at which he jumped towards Goldman. His intention was not to hurt him, nor even hit him, but he felt himself spinning out of control. He truly hoped that Morito would dodge the attack.