Mission #MME-7 [Konaa, Mari, Egon]

[Konaa]

Mission Ref No: MME-7
Toroa, West Blue
Rumor has it; a gang of thieves are going to hit the annual ball that takes place to celebrate the islands independence from both marine’s and pirates. You must attend the ball as normal citizens without revealing you are marines. Should the thieves decide to follow through with their operation, you must stop them. Remember, marines aren’t welcome so you must be careful not to blow your cover.


* * *


Slowly, an ancient-seeming caravel limped along the rocky coastline, creaking timbers echoing up and down an empty beach - in between the sounds of roaring thunder and the pattering of the rain about them. It wasn't a vessel that seemed even remotely seaworthy - and thus it had managed to slip by the Toroan patrols without much trouble. There was only so much policing of the surrounding waters a nation independent of the World Government could do. A focus on the island's traditions of high culture had left their navy slow and unresponsive.

Coming to a grinding halt at last, the ship dropped anchor some yards away from land...And remained still.

Within, the truth of the matter was quickly evident. This was no aging transport, but a heavily disguised Marine ship - One specifically designed for infiltration. They had slipped past the patrols of this unaffiliated island for a single purpose...There was a target within the borders of Toroa that necessitated the Marines to enter personally.

The hold of the caravel had remained dry thus far, though how long that would last was unclear. It wasn't large enough for a full complement, and there weren't more than ten Marines operating this vessel. Just the minimum required to carry it through.

Inside the hold was the "cargo" so to speak - The infiltration team. Assembled on short notice from the most able candidates available, their mission was to pursue an infamous ring of thieves responsible for a cross-island rampage of heists - the Jackals. And now, with B-4 having finally received solid intelligence as to their next target, it was located within a territory that considered them unwelcome on their shores.

Clearing his throat with a dramatic harumph, the ranking officer glared at the team seated at the table with narrowed eyes, witheringly. This was Lieutenant Heights, responsible for command over this mission. After a few moments, he began to speak, with a crisp sharp tone.

"Before we commence with the operation, we will review the facts one last time! This mission may be a departure from your usual postings and duties, but it is a matter of utmost urgency to the security of West Blue! We are short on time and options. The intelligence breakthrough that led us to identify this upcoming ball as the Jackals' next target was a stroke of good fortune - One we cannot rely upon to be repeated!"

"Should they escape, we have no indication of where they will strike next. They could rob a dozen more islands before we picked up their trail again! And thus, in spite of the risks, B-4 has authorized this deployment. Your primary objective is the apprehension of the Jackals, and the foiling of their robbery. But equally important is that you maintain your cover as civilians. We risk a diplomatic incident should our presence be discovered here. Attempts to reach the Toroan government about the Jackals have been...unsuccessful. This remains our only option to see these vile thieves face justice!" The lieutenant slammed his fist into the oaken surface, gritting his teeth.

"I will provide support via Transponder Snail from the ship. But communication is only to occur in the event of an emergency - This is a stealth mission, first and foremost. Now, are they any questions?"

Almost immediately, a hand flew up from one of the three seated across from the officer. Heights almost groaned on the spot, knowing the nature of the young man in question by now...

"Uh, yeah, I have one." Konaa cast his gaze about himself for a second, seemingly quiet and analytical...Before abruptly slamming his hand down on the table and jabbing a finger at his "partners," an agitated expression on his face.

"How the hell are THOSE TWO going to sneak ANYWHERE!?"

[Vio]

In all honesty, the C.H.I.M.E.R.A. Corps was a rather lenient group amongst the many divisions of the World Navy, but that did not mean that its troops were not true Marines. Indeed, in times of lulled activity, it was not uncommon for bases and divisions to send off or request the assistance of other troops and lower-ranking commissioned officers to help deal with areas of great import. Unfortunately, with the extremely special organisation still awaiting news of its next active operation, it had meant that Mari Anette – a Warrant Officer amongst the fledgling division – had been called upon for a mission on foreign soil. Plucked from the solitude of the mountain spires of G-6, the pallid puppeteer had instead been placed upon a seemingly ramshackle infiltration vessel which was now rapidly approaching the island of Toroa, West Blue. Having never even been to the West Blue before, heralding from the North and only otherwise having visited the South and the Grand Line, she had no idea what to expect from this unknown sea. The one thing she did know was that the West Blue island of Ilusia was the homeland of her own Captain, Flynn Toctic, but that mattered very little with the cyborg scientist was attending to other matters.

At least this isn’t the first time we’ve had to infiltrate a non-World Government island, right…? Reminding herself of her group’s most recent endeavours at the Pirate’s Market, which was decidedly more hostile than Toroa could ever be (she hoped), the timorous teenager looked down upon the carven form that sat in her lap. An exquisite marionette, perhaps one of the most greatly treasured in the world for those who knew of it, Mahogani herself was clad in her elegant colours of lavender and dark red-brown with her sword at her side as always. Her white face, defined by the unblinking amber eyes, looked straight towards the form of Lieutenant Heights, commanding officer and head of operations in regards to this mission.

Mari herself was dressed in clothing just as elaborate, prepared to attend the ball at which the ‘Jackals’ were purportedly going to strike again. A silken dress the colour of finest rosé was what she wore, the skirt trailing down to her ankles and comprised of numerous folds and layers, and the bodice was that of a gathered blouse style; silver fabric around the shoulders to match the silver ‘wrapping’ style of the waist and midriff. Ornate as it seemed, it was actually far less restrictive a garment that it had looked at first glance, which made her rather glad she had ended up with it in her possession. A small glimmer of hope inside begged for the dress to make it through the mission unscathed, for while she was hardly your typical fashion-obsessed teen, she at least adored this particular dress. Unfortunately, the intricate idol upon her lap did not share the opportunity to wear such things, but Mari severely doubted that any clothing she tailored would ever match up to the splendour of Mahogani’s armour.

“This is a stealth mission, first and foremost. Now, are there any questions?” asked Heights, and immediately a hand shot up. Not the hand of a well-known ally, Mari found, but the hand of a far more normal looking seaman who had also been assigned to such a mission. Well, perhaps normal was not the best choice of words, now that she got a better look at him. He was a scrawny individual with a messy mop of dark brown hair, a stark contrast to the neatly brushed and formed plait of cherry blossom hue that reached down her own back, and also seemed to be a little on the short side. She hadn’t yet been given the chance to see him standing, so he could well have been relatively long in the leg, but his stature upon the chair was barely akin to her own.

“I have one,” uttered the recruit rather quietly, but soon raised the volume by slamming his palm down upon the table and calling out the words; “How are those two going to sneak anywhere!?”

Firstly, the young man’s actions had startled Miss Anette, causing her to tense up and freeze like a rabbit in the headlights of some oncoming mechanised wheel-based transport which was yet to be invented. Secondly, he actually had something of a viable point; the two Marines sat with him not exactly being the most heavily suited to espionage, infiltration or sneakiness of the sneaky variety. A girl hauling around puppets and a man with rather ‘clunky’ appendages were not exactly looking to be masters of stealth, but that being said, she had managed to move through Pirate’s Market on the back of Sequoia without much association to the WG. Admittedly, that island was nothing short of bizarre and filled with ragtag rarities and criminals of all shapes and sizes. Toroa, on the other hand, was a respectable country considered to have a wealthy and rather normal society in which the awkward or otherwise unusual was shunned unless it could bring about great wealth and prestige. Riding along on the shoulders of a massive marionette twice as tall as most men was probably not going to go down to well, hence why she had (reluctantly) left Sequoia back at G-6.

Instead, the quiet carpenter had brought with her Mahogani – whom she would never dare to leave behind – and Alder, who awaited retrieval from her quarters aboard the infiltration vessel. Perhaps the rather snobby male mannequin would enjoy a chance to walk amongst people of similar class? It was a darn sight better than bringing Sycamore, whose boundless energy would likely cost the life of a chandelier, several glasses of champagne and the inevitably expensive toupee of an upperclassman with no taste in wigs. Such were the trivialities of taking Sycamore to a party.

“Umm,” she went to speak, but struggled to find her words, feeling quite overwhelmed by this situation…

SPOILER: Click to show

Assigned my own text colour choice to Konaa, simply for ease of reference in my post.

Mari Anette (ff55ff)
Lt Heights (ffffff)
Konaa (33ffff)

[Roin]

Truthfully, it had been ages since Egon felt like a true Marine. With his capture and branding, it had left the man feeling somewhat incapable in the field. The quick inclusion into CHIMERA along with various approved experiments had done works to restoring his confidence... but today was something else entirely in that effort. Standing near Mari, the man towered over the smaller girl more so than usual due to her seating. Among the assembled party, the cyborg was certainly the tallest... but with his length, the man was looking far more fancy than usual... or rather, he would have been.

Standing in his boxers and securing the most recent addition to his cybernetic arsenal, the man was far from prepared with the pair of pants and dress clothes hanging beside him. It wasn't that he was late... but that clothes weren't made for people like Egon with highly modified limbs. The click-click-hiss of the locking mechanism secured the newest test model of the aptly named P&C Legs. The Mark for them, or the version, was currently more akin to a zero point nine, ultimately due to the various tests held back at G-6. The yelling and cursing of Ida and the medical team had been more or less the entirety of action the first day of testing... but that was all part of preparing them for proper fieldwork. With the legs secured, the man gave a small bend of the knees before pulling the pants from the collection and putting them on just as any man might.

The talking of the Lieutenant was nice and all but Egon was busy as he pulled the pants up and pulled the black belt tight, the black, pleated slacks fitted well around the man's cybernetic limbs to the point it was impossible to tell them apart from any man's own pair. With that secure, the man at least reached for a glass of water nearby. But rather than drink it, the man moved his Battle Arm to open the panel on his chest, exposing the core within before pouring the liquid into the proper chamber. And as he poured, the singular moment that unified the group in conversation occured.

"How are those two going to sneak anywhere!?"

The comment was rude, Egon grumbling under his breath but for the moment ignoring it. After all, the truth was that Egon was a Marine... and he would do his job even if it meant he had to be selectively truthful. If they were forced to tell a lie, that story might change... but giving only parts of the truth would be simple enough, hopefully. As Mari let out her struggle for words, another click-click sounded as the core closed and locked in the new water supply. The hiss afterward, however, was far different as streams of steam poured from Egon's arm at a faint whistle, the man venting the cooling steam in favor for the new steam to come.

"Truthfully," started Egon with a hand moving to pat the venting arm, "as a proper Marine I take offense at that remark. I am plenty sneaky, as long as I have steam in my core. If I abandon my limbs, I can crawl anywhere as quietly as a thief can prance over a courtyard."

The comparison, at least to Egon, was a good one as the man pulled a grey shirt over his exposed musculature, the large "MARINE" brand on his back vanishing under the attire. With each button secured in a practiced motion of his real hand, the cybernetic one reached out to take the black and silver pin-striped coat from the wall. But rather than wear it as he completed assembling the shirt and tucking it, the cyborg brought the coat to rest on his shoulder and looked directly to the Lieutenant without anymore to say to their pointing and rather rude fellow Marine.

"Will there be fresh water inside? If we are discovered by the thieves and I must fight, I may need to refill my core. I do not want to drag down Miss Anette. Captain Flynn would have my head if he found out I troubled her in the field..."

Though the statement was unneeded, it was most certainly the truth. While CHIMERA had accepted the man and allowed him to follow his own endeavors into technology, they were only tolerating of him no doubt due to his abilities as both a Marine and a combatant. Being captured once already made him look weak... and if they had to handle these thieves with force, Egon would need to take them down or face the idea that he's a disgrace to his saviors. Looking down to the young woman, the truthful man could only imagine the looks most would give at the statement he'd made. While they weren't trained for sneaking, the two of them would have to pull through... and the fact that one of their teammates didn't have faith was concerning. At last, he would turn his gaze toward the man who pointed their way, frowning with as much of a serious look the cyborg could muster.

"I can beat him up after the mission if needed. Not to fight for you, but because this fellow has an annoying finger. But truthfully, what about yourself? Are you cracked out for this sort of job?"

[Konaa]

"Yeah, cause nobody is going to notice a moving metal torso."

The Lieutenant's hand slammed into the table once more, causing the hapless recruit to jump in his seat for a moment. "They'll sooner notice the skinny, whinging excuse for a man! This is your duty, recruit! Warrant Officer Anette has ranking command over the insertion team and you will follow her orders to the letter. Am I understood!?"

Konaa's hands flew up in automatic defense, as if the officer's words were biting assaults on his person. Sweating somewhat, he threw a glance at both of the fellows - painfully aware of how easily they could discipline him - and nodded vigorously. "A-alright, alright! I got it, uh, sir."

A sigh escaped Heights' mouth, hand creasing his forehead. "I know you weren't trained for this, but you're the only other Marine I've been cleared to assign. Guess you didn't make too many favors back home in Loguetown, huh?"

Not giving Konaa the chance to answer - though his expression gave a fairly clear one - the lieutenant turned to the two not held in contempt and continued onward. "There should be sufficient water available for your needs, CPO. The estate contains a fountain in the central plaza that we believe is regularly kept fresh. I understand C.H.I.M.E.R.A. troops often have requirements, and B-4 is grateful for your willingness to assist in this matter."

"Now, you won't be entirely on your own. We have an inside man, a native Toroan by the name of Dasher, who has your invitations. Meet him in town - you have one day before the ball. I expect you all to spend it productively." Here another glare was spent toward the East Blue tagalong, who did his best to affect a look of innocence in response.

"If there's nothing else, prepare to engage! This delicate task is in your hands, Marines. And keep this little ingrate under control, you hear?"

Eyes rolling, Konaa pushed out his chair and stood up. "Yeah, yeah, we're best of friends. You know, Lieutenant, it wouldn't kill you to loosen up a little-"

Two minutes later, the recruit blinked vacantly up at the black, stormy sky as he drifted on his back toward the beach, still a little groggy from the impact...both hitting the water and hitting the door after Heights had thrown him out.

"I-it might just kill me, though, so...as you were, sir." he muttered to himself.

[Vio]

“Truthfully, as a proper Marine I take offence at that remark,” Egon Wahrheit chimed in, the steam-powered cyborg still in the midst of getting dressed, much to his associate’s own embarrassment. Then again, Mari Anette surely wasn’t the only one who found a soldier getting dressed in the middle of a mission briefing to be quite unorthodox. Not that she had actually been involved in many a mission briefing as of yet, for – while her heightened rank might have suggested otherwise – she was still inexperienced. Many men had already taken part in numerous operations of varying scale in the time frame that she had been a member of the World Navy, but few would accomplish the kinds of things she had in such a small period of service. Defeating a once notorious North Blue pirate, infiltrating an abandoned laboratory full of run-amok experiments, and participating in a tactical assault upon one of the largest congregations of pirates in the South Blue; needless to say this girl had already exceeded expectations. And yet, despite the diversity and direness of previous actions, she still felt unprepared.

“Now, you won’t be entirely on your own,” Lieutenant Heights informed them after giving the fellow men a grilling and an affirmation, respectively. “We have an inside man – a native Toroan by the name of ‘Dasher’ – who has your invitations.”

What followed shortly thereafter was a rather unusual and startling display of physical strength by the LT, whose response to being told to loosen up a little involved sending Konaa flying. Ideally, there were to be no casualties and only minor injuries during this mission, but it seemed that the insubordinate ingrate was not going to make it through as easily. Looking at first with a look of surprise to Heights, and then with a nervous and somewhat concerned look to the distinctly human-shaped hole in the door, the pink-haired puppeteer quickly stood up and proceeded back to her quarters to retrieve the last piece of the puzzle. Also, to retrieve a coat and umbrella to protect her and her carven compatriots from the rain, for the last thing she wanted to do was walk into a ball looking like she’d just been washed up on the shores… which was a lot more than could be said for Konaa.

-~-

“S-so… We’ve got to find this Dasher?” Miss Anette asked timidly, finally speaking up after a few minutes had passed by. There she stood, now covered by a white coat and matching umbrella that protected her from the cascade, Mahogani fastened to her back and wrapped in waterproof canvas, while Alder was secured with her arm. Honestly, she wished she had easier ways to carry the puppets around, but this would have to do for now. It was not as if they could just walk alongside her without need for string and, even if they could, she didn’t really want them walking through any puddles. The infiltration vessel had dropped them off at the far end of the coastline, providing some ease of access to the richer districts of the island in which such balls were held, but steering them clear of patrols. This was unfamiliar territory, divided into the town of the wealthy and the town of the poor, and it was also one that treated the World Government with hostility.

I wish we knew what he looked like… Mind trying to put together a decent picture of what a fellow code-named ‘Dasher’ would look like, though for some reason she struggled to picture anything outside of a reindeer, the timorous teenager observed her surroundings with cautious glances. This stretch of land was devoid of people and activity, save for the rowboat that now returned to the ship upon which they had approached, leaving the unusual trio essentially stranded. To put it simply, they were alone. At least until they met up with their cohort, who would likely provide them with some much needed information, and grant them their desired access to where to Jackals were due to strike. Lazily, Alder’s head tilted, looking away from the drowned rat that was their Loguetown teammate whilst also apparently trying to not look at Egon. The male mannequin’s form was as exquisite as ever, a show of just how skilled Mari was at her craft, seemingly dressed in a finely pressed suit of ivory with tie and shoes of black. A light, tan-coloured visage was defined with vivid and handsome blue eyes, while his ‘hair’ – cut of the light brown lumber from which she had carved him – seemed to be neatly combed back.

“We sh-should start looking for him,” the Warrant Officer whimpered, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain upon her umbrella and wondering when this storm would let up. In truth, this was nowhere near as bad weather as she had anticipated, the West Blue seeming far tamer on a climatic scale than her native north. In the North Blue, storms were ferocious and bitter, often accompanied by swift bouts of stinging hail and chilling winds that seemed to pierce every conceivable layer of clothing you could wear. Here, though this particular area was hardly known to her, a storm seemed far less fearsome. This was essentially a light shower and a gentle breeze, interspersed by the familiar rumble of distant thunder that growled every once in a while. This storm, it seemed, was starting to leave the isle of Toroa altogether.

Luck would have it that the tactical triumvirate were not completely isolated, a series of lightly paved roads leading from this distant shore and into the town proper, indicating that this beach was likely a popular destination in times of good weather. Composing herself as best she could, almost as if she were embodying a fraction of the pride that her two puppet partners possessed between them, Mari started to advance with uneasy steps. The hem of her dress was high enough to avoid catching the puddles and trickling streams of water that rainfall had given birth to, though that certainly didn’t stop her from making small weaving sidesteps to avoid treading in such bodies, her current choice of white footwear hardly the kind that one would want to get dirty. The pathways sloped upwards gently, occasionally broken by small numbers of stone steps which led them higher still, and the silhouettes of expensive buildings were clear as they closed in upon the city proper. This was the richer, well-guarded area of Toroa; not the cramped slums that bred rats, pirates and other vermin alike…

SPOILER: Click to show

Egon Wahrheit (33ff77)

[Roin]

The display on the ship had certainly been interesting, though Egon wasn't shocked or anything of the like. Though he hadn't seen too many displays of power, the endurance of a man's body wasn't immune to the cyborg. However, the true reason he found no need to be amazed at the feat of strength was due to that he was grabbing hold of a single object. One that would be necessary in the coming venture into the rain...

---

Following slightly to Mari's left and behind, Egon was holding a rather... small umbrella overhead. The larger of the umbrellas had been scooped up by Mari and due to her puppets... well, Egon had nothing to complain about. As a result, however, Egon's sleeve was vacant of the metal arm and wrapped around toward his back. With the smaller umbrella, the man had to lower the width of his form... so the result was draping his coat over the right-side of his body, the arm strapped firmly to his back. The weapon-like arm was hidden from sight, but the result had Egon looking far less impressive than usual.

“S-so… We’ve got to find this Dasher?”

The first question had broken the silence of walking in the rain, but it hadn't broken Egon's silence yet. The man was trying to follow their lead, after all. In an operation like this, it had sunk in on the young man how crucial his silence would be. After all, infiltration with a man that couldn't be very... "sneaky", as some may put it, was certainly a challenging task. It had already been hard to leave behind his blade, but the weapon was clearly of Marine make when inspected, so it wasn't a very good idea to drag it along. Heck, the main reason the man wasn't in a panic was due to the fact that the cybernetic limbs he had brought along were of his own design rather than some blueprints created by Marine Officials.

However, with the rain falling on the man's umbrella and the weight of his arm present on his back... the truth was that all of this was not what he had expected upon being called up. It was already a pain to make their way down streets with the lack of free air. Without proper room to vent his core, Egon would get light-headed and have to hope the pressure within his core didn't rise too much. The heat was, however, already growing. This was evident on the area around Egon, the rain that landed on his umbrella giving a soft fizzle from the radiating heat caught underneath casting upon the surface. Each step Egon took gave a soft fizzle as puddles met with the heated feet of his legs. Due to their black, smooth cast Egon hadn't worn his boots and the result was the small clunk of metal on stone.

“We sh-should start looking for him.”

"Truthfully, that is an option. We could also sneak into the ball without our invitations. But it would certainly would be better if we found Dasher and secured the invitations properly."

With each step they took, Egon steadied the umbrella overhead to better cover himself from the falling rain. After all... he had to keep nice and dry to look proper with someone of Mari's size and dress. Especially with the third wheel of their field operation being dragged along.

[Konaa]

Apparently, he'd been absent the day they were issuing umbrellas.

Not that an umbrella was going to help the hapless kid, anyway. Konaa was going to be soaking wet for a while as a result of his impromptu disembarking, the soggy gray tunic clinging to him and making it all the worse. At the very least, he'd bought some long-sleeved civvies for the mission to the historically chilly and rainy island, but even so...

Trailing somewhat to the side of the other two missionaires, the recruit had his hands firmly shoved in his waterlogged pockets, a scowl on his face - likely invisible, due to his sopping wet hair falling all around it. It was a minor miracle he could see where he was going. Not once along the way did he request to be helped under the umbrella, however. It seemed that he had some pride...In the most trivial and inconvenient situations possible.

So those ten minutes or so passed quite awkwardly, or at least that was the impression he got. But then, most situations where he was required to spend more than thirty seconds in the company of another person ended up awkward. Not the thirty second ones, though. He could say "good morning" or "night" or "thanks for the food" with perfect social competence. Someone had to stop him or his grace and tact would one day dominate the world.

What did I even do to get put on this assignment? Crawling through the freezing rain in a hostile country to thwart a band of robbers is maybe the worst one yet. And what does it say about my life that I'm not sure if it IS?

"Hah?" When the young puppeteer spoke up, he finally deigned to turn his head and glare over at the two, though it was unlikely that the drowned rat masquerading as a Marine had much if any intimidation factor behind him. Almost begrudgingly, he appeared to contemplate the words of his "teammates."

The fastest way out of this was to complete the mission, right?

"Well." he began, tone still sardonic with a helping load of bitterness to go with it.  Konaa's hand lifted upward, counting off the three of them on his fingers as he spoke. "Let's recap.  We've got a ghost girl with a puppet show...A hunk of walking iron and death...And me, a coward with no skills.  Considering the, um, insane disadvantage we happen to be at given the nature of this deathtra- I mean, 'mission,' I don't think deviating from the instructions we've got is a good idea, at all."

"If we screw this up, we could get lynched.  Imprisoned.  Or worse - latrine duty.  Just picture the most waterlogged toilet you've ever seen in your life.  Let it motivate you.  That toilet?  Could be your future."  Who said he had no gift for public speaking?

Their path drew them further up, into the well paved Masque District.  As Mari had noted, it was indeed a far more wealthy part of town than any place they likely belonged.  Fortunately for them, rich folk tended not to head out at night, or at least, not nights where they might get their shoes mucky, and thus the streets were deserted.

"Look, no offense meant - No, really! - but just take a peek at your shoulder."  Konaa indicated the soft hissing of the cyborg's heated body meeting the rain with a jerk of his head.  "We're gonna need a really good explanation to get you into the ball like that, and I get the feeling we'd been in even deeper shit if we turned up out of nowhere without one.  I'm gonna go ahead and doubt that a bunch of fancy-pants mask wearing goofs want people like us sticking out like an eyesore and tracking dirt on their nice clean floors."

While he was ranting, they came to a fork in the road.  A metal sign hung ahead, underneath a street lamp.  Even in the gloom of the stormy night, it was quite legible thanks to that illumination.  SILK AVENUE read the sign pointed to the right, and BEGGAR'S CROSSING read the one to the left.  Which way their immediate or overall goals lay in, and which they aimed for, was of course up to them.