The Good, The Bat, and The Mandrake

[BlacKitten]

He didn’t care.

The world could be set ablaze by the flames of hell. The sky could be crumbling over their heads. Islands could sink into the depths of the seas. It didn’t matter to him at this point in time. All of his attention and care was directed towards one person and one person alone. He had a responsibility, but his little sister was more important to him than anything else in this entire world. He had lost her, and for three months of searching, he had found her again and freed her from captivity. No more. Never again would he let her leave his side. Even if it means becoming an overly protective older brother, that was perfectly fine, and she wasn’t going to complain about that.

For days, they travelled on a merchant’s ship that was heading towards an island which the Revolutionary Army had wanted to investigate. It was thanks to his fifteen-year old sister, Rebecca, who convinced the sailors to allow them to hitch up a ride. They didn’t have a ship of their own, at least not anymore. The youth had always been an extroverted and charming little girl; she could persuade others to do her bidding if putting it sinisterly.

Resinbar was the name of the island. Beyond that, they knew practically nothing else about it. The ship drifted under the clear sky; the seas were placid. The air was unfathomably hot and dry. They reached a port at a town that is appropriately named as Porter Town.

From there, Rebecca thanked the sailors and departed off the deck, seemingly all on her own. But, she wasn’t alone. Her older brother was with her, taking shelter at the back of her collar, behind the curtain-like hair, hanging upside down like a bat would. He hid from the sunlight, taking shade where it'd be cooler. Small and light, he could easily be carried around, weighing no more than a common egg. She could hardly notice him.

[Vio]

¹

---

^{“Loo-dee-doo-dee-doo~ Bwaa-bwaa-bwaa~!”}

^{“Bryony, please!” a gentleman snapped:
“I’m trying to concentrate here!”}

^{“But Jakob,” Miss Whitaker replied, “I can’t see from here…”}

“I– Wh– That’s not the…?” Turning to face his partner in crime, the bald yet fire-bearded man immediately realised that things were anything but normal. He had probably known that ever since being assigned to this task, but it confounded his mind all the same. He had, in the space of about a minute, gone from talking to a relatively short young woman – one with bronzed skin dressed in blue skinny jeans and a leaf green bardot crop top – to what appeared to be a leafy shrub with a cowboy had balanced on one of its metre-long leaves. His blue eyes moved down to meet a waxy white face, almost perfectly round, defined by irises of hazel-green blend.

He blinked. She smiled. He sighed.

“Look. Wait, no… Listen,” Jakob explained grumpily. “There’s us and a few others who’ve all received the message to gather here. I’m just doing some recon before the others show. The more we know, the better.” Huffing, he returned his eyes to a pair of binoculars, watching from his perch atop a small cliff near the inland edge of Porter Town. Wooden buildings quickly gave out to desolate wastes, flanked by smoothed sandstone outcrops which shimmering with heat haze. Dry shrubs and patches of prickly leaves dotted the landscape, while a wide trail marked by what must have been decades, if not centuries of traffic wound its way into the hills.

Jakob had been keeping an eye on thoroughfare, from lone horse-drawn wagons to entire caravans. In the space of just a few hours well over a three dozen carts had careened into the distance, following the trail to Vesper Town and the intermediate point – their target town of Barter. Bryony, meanwhile, had been waiting patiently and enjoying the sun as best she could. The place was a bit too arid for her liking.

^{“We can’t sit here all day, y’know?” she added:
“Where are we supposed to meet up again…?”}

“The White Widow Saloon,” Jakob replied absently. “You’re right. We should get going.” Pocketing his binoculars and standing up, he watched as his cohort’s small body clambered out of the dirt and shifted from fair to copper in just seconds. Childish features returned to womanly ones, leaving a short, pear-built brunette in the space of what had been an even shorter, deformed and leaf-headed creature. With a tip of her Stetson and an eye-roll from Jakob, Bryony began to make her way towards their destination in the middle of town…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

Voices.

There were so many voices of all different kinds. Eavesdropping from one conversation to another, he immediately realized that many of them talked quite strangely. For those who talked normally, they seemed to be nonnative to this island. Judging by the footsteps, he could tell that the ground wasn’t made of concrete but more akin to walking on compact flattened sand and dirt. The terrain seemed so vacant and leveled. The width of the path was much wider than what one may find in a city; it was much more spacious outside than inside. The echoes of voices from indoors indicated a lot of rooms built close to one another; houses were shouldered up close to each other. There were virtually no alleyways – at least not in the conventional sense.

Even though he was hidden in the shadows of her hair, he could still breathe in the dry air that seeped through. The environment was still annoyingly hot; the very act of breathing made him thirst for water. As someone native to the North Blue, he much preferred colder temperatures. To him, it was much easier to warm up in a cold setting than it was to cool down in a hot setting.

“Howdy, you new hair little gal?” A voice of a man approached them.

Rebecca shifted her glance at someone in his thirties who was wearing a brown cowboy hat, ragged jeans, and dirt-covered boots. She, on the other hand, was wearing a white spaghetti-strapped tank-top, dark-blue shorts, and sneakers. In addition, she wore a tan sunhat on her head in counteract the scorching light from the sky. “Yes, I am!” She said with much energy in her tone.

“Would ya be interested in some vittles? Thair's a guh-reat resturant ah would recommey-nd raahyt aroun' thuh corner blawk.”

W-What did he just say?

“That would be great!” The girl brimmed with smiles and positive energy. Having just arrived here, she was thrilled that the first stranger she meets would be nice enough to guide them to a restaurant.

You can understand him, Rebecca? Well..., that’s a social person for you.

“Jus' follow me,” the cowboy led the way. “Aroun' hair in Porter Town, we're knownest for our restaurants an bars. It's t' welcome trayvellers who jus' arrive hair. So where you from, little gal?”

“I’m from North Blue,” the youth answered.

“North Blue ya say? What does a lidl gal like ya doin' all thuh way hair? Are ya all by yourself?”

She shook her head, “No, I’m travelling with my older brother.”

“An older bub? Where is 'e then?”

Rebecca turned her head away slightly before quietly whispering, “Pluto, I think he wants to see you.”

“But that involves transforming... and social interaction... and being burned under the sun... I don’t wanna,” the little critter listed out three reasons on the top of his head as to why he doesn’t wish to reveal himself. He didn't want to just transform all of a sudden in public and cause attention. He didn't want to interact with strangers. And, he didn't want to be melting any more than he already is. 

[Vio]

²

---

The ‘White Widow’ Saloon. It was a dark, dingy place. Or, at least, the radiance of the outside world made it seem as such. Even Whitaker Bryony’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the sudden shift in ambience as she waltzed on in, Jakob following just a little behind. Apparently the locals took their chivalry very seriously here.

Either way, the interior was not all that much cooler, but at least out of the direct heat of the sun. Quite spacious, it boasted numerous broad, circular tables scattered about in no particular symmetry or pattern, each accompanied by simple wooden chairs and stools – certainly nothing fancy. A polished but aged counter with various tall bar stools before it seemed quite busy, with the barkeep himself – a plump yet sturdy gentleman with a bald head and stubble-lined face – polishing pint glasses which he steadily returned to the shelving behind him.

As smiling eyes scanned the establishment, the Mandrake woman saw about two-dozen individuals that were scattered about the place. Many were dressed in what appeared to be the local trends; dirty shirts, jackets and jeans, but others seemed a little more out of place. Only a few seemed to be actively socialising; three locals and what was probably an outsider played some sort of card game at one table, with money on the table suggesting actual stakes. A couple of tables from them, a man and a woman talked quietly, both smoking from simple tobacco pipes.

“What’ll it be?” asked the bartender as Jakob and Bryony sat at the counter. “We gawt bitter, liquid courage , a bottle awf ree-ehd…”

“Two Risky Reds, please, barkeep,” Jakob replied, to which said barkeep – whose name was now firmly established as Barkeep no matter how he tried to reason – gave him a narrow-eyed look. A second later, he nodded, wiping off one last glass and sliding it onto the shelves. He pulled a bottle, square, from beneath the counter, took two shot glasses and filled them both about a third full of the contents before placing them down. Bryony looked curiously at the liquor; a vivid and fiery red-amber colour that seemed to smoke from within.

^{“Don’t drink it,” Jakob whispered:
“And take a look around…”}

“Huh?” With whatever subtlety she could muster, the bubbly brunette side-eyed many of the tavern’s patrons. Amidst tall glasses and tankards and even a teacup here and there, she spied the familiar sight of at least another seven shot glasses, each with that splash of ‘Risky Red’ inside. Other patrons either had empty shots, or were downing something more traditional…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

“My brother’s a bit shy,” said Rebecca lightheartedly.

“Ah see. So ya're all by yourself raahyt now, ay?” The man smirked to himself as he continued to lead the way. “We're almost thair,” he headed towards an old, worn down house.

At first glance, the girl wouldn’t have guessed that it functioned as a restaurant at all, and her brother’s keen sense of smell couldn’t pick up much traces of food.

The man swung opens the door, sidestepped, and gestured his arm towards the inside, “Ladies fuhrst.” The little one strode towards the inside where only a small handful of men could be seen lazing around in this dim, near vacant room. There were a few wooden crates and ropes lying around, but there was no sign of food anywhere. There was no one who appeared to be waiters. There was only a single table and two chairs, not enough for a business to serve many costumers.

Puzzled by the scene, Rebecca gave a confused look, and several predatory glares were returned back at her as if she had just stepped into the lion’s den.

CLICK!

The cowboy pointed a flintlock at the girl’s head from behind, "Sorry missy. But ya belong t' us now."

“?” The girl turned around, startled by the barrel of a gun being pointed a few feet away from her face. Before she knew it, three more grown men had her surrounded; some held ropes while others had grabby hands ready to hold her down.

“Y-You guys really shouldn’t do this...,” Rebecca grew a bit fearful.

“Ya're in no position ta negotiate, little gal.”

“And you’re in no position to negotiate with my brother,” she retorted with a serious look. “Please, don’t do this. You’ll only anger him if you do anything to me.”

The cowboys all chuckled.

“Thair's nothing yo-wr brother can do. Eve-yn if he fahnds us, 'e's outgunned an outnumbered.”

“He won’t have to find you. He’s already here,” she rushed her words, but she was too late.

The gunner widened his eyes in fright. He felt a malicious presence; a ghostly shadow shifted smoothly across his peripheral vision. Despite the dry heat, a cold shiver went down his spine.

CRACK!

“Huh!?” He gazed down at his arm. His elbow was bent in ways that it shouldn’t be bending, causing the flintlock to be pointing outwards in the wrong direction. Only then did he howl in pain.

The men in the room grew alarmed. None of them saw what happened. In just a split second, one of their comrades was yowling with a snapped, hyperextended elbow, and the next thing they saw was a youthful looking man with dark hair and piercing eyes of violet hue that seemingly glowed in the dim room like that of an animal, standing at the gunner's flank. There was without a doubt in their minds that this fella was the girl’s older brother.

[Vio]

³

---

Are all of these people part of the Revolution as well…? I suppose the shots make sense, though; our signature colour is red! As she sat there at the counter, staring at her own reflection in the red liquor, Whitaker Bryony could not help but feel something was amiss. Then again, she could hardly call herself a veteran in the strategic ongoings of the Revolutionary Army. Keeping their troops in the dark and on a need to know basis was not something they tended towards, but there were likely times when it had to be done for an operation to go smoothly. With that in mind, she settled and waited.

And waited.

And was about to do some more narrative waiting when Jakob muttered: “Something’s not quite right here, Brie. There should be twelve shots. I only count nine,” he explained under his breath, just audible to the girl. “And it’ll soon be high noon.” Bryony was about to ask when this supposed high noon was, but the brunette was not prepared to get shot down by a bunch of cowboys for not knowing any better. Still, Jakob had made a point of saying something was off; all the more reason for her to speak.

^{“Don’t worry,” she elbowed his side and smiled:
“I’m sure they’re just lost or somethin’, y’know?”}

^{“Y– Yeah…”}

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

In hurried steps, Rebecca rushed towards the edge of the room to not get caught in the crossfire between these hostile men with accents and her older brother was now standing up to them.

Violet-hued eyes scanned the room, counting a total of seven men, including the one with the broken arm. Only one of them rushed at him like a wild bull with a large, muscular frame. Hands outstretched, meant to grab him. Without a doubt, the man likely thought that he, alone, was enough to handle the youth.

The boy, however, moved like a ghost, silent and mysterious. His movements were both fast and slow, seemingly vanishing before slowly decelerating. Two strides, he walked past the man who dropped to both knees and a palm, grunting.

Two more men bolted forth, darting in from forty-five degrees from the front. The moment they stepped within range and punched straight out, their bodies began spinning like a pair of pinwheels in midair before crashing and tumbling across the ground. All in the meantime, the boy appeared to continue striding forth in a calm, constant pace, closing in the distance little by little with the rest of them.

“What thuh heck!?” A cowboy pulled out a revolver with six rounds in their slots. Pointing and aiming, he pulled the trigger while the boy was still a dozen strides away. Two consecutive shots were fired with no clear intention on whether they were meant to kill or cripple. Nonetheless, the target swayed and pivoted his waist ever so slightly such that each shot flung past him. The gunner widened his eyes in disbelief, thinking that there was no way that he could have missed at this short of a distance. A split second later, his target was suddenly within pointblank range; an opposing hand gripped around the barrel that was practically pressed up against his forehead.

Desperately, the gunner pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He pulled it repeatedly until he heard a clang of metal off to the side. With a subtle shift of his eyes, he saw the cylinder to his revolver rolling across the floor. Looking back at what he was holding, he saw two fingers sticking out from where the cylinder used to be.

“Who thuh hell are you?” He was finally convinced. This boy with those cold, piercing eyes was no ordinary kid.

From the side, a man wielding a cutlass cautiously approached the enigmatic brother, but his vision was suddenly obstructed as a body came hurling straight at him, knocking him back.

The last remaining standing man was the largest of them all, standing eight feet tall, dark-skinned with dark unruly brown hair and beard. Anticlimactically, he raised both hands up in the air, “Alright…, you win… I ain’t fighting you.”

Without even acknowledging the bulky man with a glance, Pluto nonchalantly asked his little sister, “May I kill him… Rebecca?”

“Of course not!” The little girl rejected that suggestion. Something was different about him. She could tell. Her brother wouldn’t usually ask her such a question. A part of her feared at the idea of Pluto killing them. If she wasn’t present, there’d be nothing to hold him back from doing so.

“Why? A gun was pointed at you; you could have been killed,” he questioned her response. To him, it was illogical for these men to be left alive. “Those who kill… should be prepared to be killed themselves,” his words were harsh and crisp.

Rebecca was speechless. It was after those words were said that she remembered the last time her brother was like this. There was once a reaper who went by the name Scarlette. On that day, she felt a dark seed budding within him. From that time onward, more and more dangerous figures began popping up, and her life was put in danger far more than once. What was she supposed to say? She knew that killing was wrong, yet she also understood how unfair it seemed to constantly leave these presumable killers alive when he had every power in him to do just that. Self-defense wasn’t enough. What he wanted was a permanent end to any form of threat to people’s lives.

“Well… whatever…,” the brother turned around and strode towards the large man in front of him, “Just tell me an approximate distance and direction of The White Widow Saloon.”

…

Moments later at The White Widow Saloon…

The scream of a man with a low, dull voice could be heard up from above before silenced by a...

CRASH!

Suddenly, there was a large, bearded man lying unconsciously on the floor, and up above him was a human-shaped hole on the ceiling where a beam of sunlight shined down in the dim, dingy room.

[Vio]

⁴

---

^{“I mean, I’d get lost, too,” Bryony continued:
“This place wasn’t easy to find, y’know? And–”}

^CRAAASH!

As wood dust and debris scattered, pretty much everyone in the establishment turned to view the unanticipated arrival and his unwittingly chosen place of rest. Oddly enough, the only one who did not appear too bothered about it was the barkeep, though he was also the first to make an audible comment, though not one anyone expected: “Looks like somebody went ‘n’ lost a bet.”

“Eh? Is this… a common thing?” Jakob asked.

^{“Whadda ya mean?” Barkeep queried:
“Folks fallin’ through the ceilin’? No.”}

^{“T– Then why are you acting so nonchalantly about it?”}

“They usually come on in through the windows,” was the reply, Barkeep simply continuing his cleaning of glasses. Miss Whitaker was unsure of what to make of the man––a strange character who seemed wise to the ways of his homeland. She dared to gaze up at the newly implemented skylight through which warm sunlight descended, pooling upon the floor about the supine soul. Needless to say, she quickly drew her eyes away the moment her mind started to consider where he had come from. He was no angel, that was for sure.

^{“Let ‘im be,” Barkeep added:
“Better in ‘ere than out there…”}

^{“Now what do you mean?”}

“Never you mind, li’l lady,” he responded, setting another glass on shelves behind before glancing at the sunbeam cascading through the ceiling. From there, he approached both Bryony and Jakob, focusing more on the latter before speaking quietly. “Now, listen up. I’m closin’ up shop in an hour ta run some errands, so I hope yer li’l posse s’all rounded up by then. Sorry t’ sound un-hospitable, but runnin’ a business ain’t all servin’ drinks ‘n’ cleanin’ house. You understand?”

^{“Mm,” Jakob nodded:
“We’ll be off soon, ourselves. Thank you.”}

^{“Pleasure.”}

“When do you think the others will show, Jakob?” Brie whispered, just seconds after Barkeep had left the scene and started checking the contents of various bottles of liquor and apparently matching it up to his counter cash. Nobody had so much as bothered with the unconscious heap of flesh and, one by one, patrons of the White Widow were slowly starting to take their leave…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

A pair of figures stepped into the saloon, a boy and a younger, shorter girl. Both bared the trait of violet pupils, but the few genetic similarities was as far as it went when comparing them side by side.

“W-Why… did you make me walk here?” He mumbled in a dry voice, feeling betrayed. Droplets of sweat flowed down the side of his face, eyes lowered towards the ground from having to avoid looking up at the scorching hot sun during his walk here. He was slouching a bit with every step, having to support the weight of belongings within a pale black backpack. He wore a grey button-up t-shirt, black pants, and dark boots, appearing almost like a young, naïve, ordinary traveler, clearly foreign to these lands.

“Humph,” the little one scoffed childishly, “That’s what you get for being so mean.” She had providing him the service of letting him hide in her shadow to avoid the heat and light of today’s weather; without her, the brother from North Blue, who was so used to the cold temperatures, had to bare the environment. “And besides,” she glanced at him with a whimsical smile, “You can now socialize with others.” No one would have to be creeped out that a voice popped out of thin air anymore.

This was his first time. Every other assignment that the Revolutionary Army had given him was done independently. Besides the few important connections that ties him into this organization, he never had to meet with other members. For as long as he could remember, he had always been a stray cat that does things his own way.

“Lovely…,” he said with both sarcasm and lack of enthusiasm.

With a lazy sweeping glance across the room with around two dozen individuals, he mentally categorized the members with the glass of red fluid with the members who didn’t.

Pluto took the lead as his sister followed; they headed towards the counter after passing the unmoving body as if neither of them found it weird. After all, they were expecting to see something of the sort on their way here. One of them just so happen to have angrily catapulted that man, and from there, it was just a matter of following the human projectile to reach their destination.

For a moment, he stared at the Barkeep who was managing the alcoholic beverages and cash. “Uhhhh…,” he momentarily forgot how to start a conversation. “May I have some water? With ice if possible.”

“Me too, please,” Rebecca hopped onto a stool with her hands resting at the edge of the counter.

“And… uh…,” he rubbed his head, attempting to remember something. “What was it called again…?” he mumbled to himself. “Let’s see… was it a kind of beer? Wine? Rum? … uh… I give up.” He glanced at other folks who were also at the counter. One was a bald man with a beard and blue eyes, and another was a youthful short girl with bronzed skin, blue skinny jeans, and green Bardot crop-top.

“Uh… hey…,” he started awkwardly before gesturing towards their glasses of blood-colored drinks. “May I ask what that drink is called?” He didn't know which one of the two to ask, so he simply spoke to the both of them generally.

“Eh!?” Rebecca jerked her head around. Her brother didn’t drink alcohol. Why would he ask that?

[Vio]

⁵

---

It was as the newcomer asked about the crimson cocktail that many a pair of eyes suddenly became sharp and alert. Bryony’s did not, but she remained aware all the same. They were right to be suspicious––a Revolutionary agent would have known the name of the drink without having to ask. Genuine curiosity was one thing, but caution was a necessity.

^{“Why d’ya ask?” Barkeep replied in the duo’s stead:
“Fancy a shot of it fer yerself…?”}

“What’s he playing at?” Bryony whispered––mouthed to Jakob so that neither the dark-haired curiosity nor his child company could read her lips. It was odd. Though she had yet to give them a proper once over, she could already tell they were anomalies, unsuited to the sweltering and arid environs in which the operation would be taking place. They even spoke differently.

“Blue Duck?” Jakob mouthed back, then turned to face the stranger proper. “Barkeep, you heard the man! One ‘Risky Red’, on me.”

^{“Hm?” the Barkeep grunted:
“Risky Red, comin’ right up.”}

Bryony watched as the keeper did just as Jakob had instructed, pouring two glasses of what was once ice yet still cool straight from what the girl assumed was a chilled box. He then took up the same viscous concoction, part-filled a shot glass, and set the three drinks up at the counter. These next moments would decide the fate of this newcomer, name unknown…

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

Immediately, the siblings reached out straight for the glass of icy water. Simply the cool touch of the smooth transparent surface was enough to drain out the heat from their hands. Both took a sip, but the brother took repeated sips, gradually cooling down his internals until his glass was half empty.

“That’s very kind of you, mister,” the re-hydrated boy acknowledged the man who just offered him both the answer to his question as well as gifting it to him with his own money. He scrutinized the single shot of vivid amber-red liquid that settled to its equilibrium. Like a curious puppy, he made two small sniffs to capture the scent of the Risky Red. It smelled strange to him.

“He-he…, I wonder what a drunk Pluto would look like,” Rebecca cheerily chuckled at the thought of him losing control over his own coordination. She peeked over her brother to gaze at the man and the brunette sitting next nearby. “Hello!” She waved at the bronze-skinned girl who appeared to be around the same height as her albeit older. Her eyes momentarily gazed towards the reserved-looking boy, “Are you going to drink that?”

“Probably not,” he answered.

“Why did you get it then?” She now looked puzzled.

“Well… almost half of the people here has a glass of it, so I thought there must be a reason that it’s so popular,” he responded. Without any knowledge in the domain of interest, copying those who does was one way to get around that. “However…,” he mumbled quietly with a suspicious sounding tone, “Not a single of them has touched their drinks!”

“Can I take a sip?” The youth raised her hand to volunteer.

"No,” he answered sternly while taking another sip of his glass of water – his preferred drink over whatever Risky Red was.

“He-he... thought so.”

“Urgh…,” a groan sounded out from the body lying in the debris-covered spot of the floor. The large, bearded man, who fell through the ceiling, regained his consciousness. “The hell…?” Clambering onto his hands and knees, he raised his head with squinting eyes. Everything was blurry at first. “What happened?” Gazing around, he saw unfamiliar faces, but the interior designs was recognizable.

Gradually, his jaw lowered, and his eyes widened. “That freak! How fuh-ar did he throw me? Guh!” His eyes froze, staring dead on at the counter up ahead. “Oh lord!”

Silently, Pluto turned his head around and shot out a death glare at the dirtied, bearded man who’s frozen like a rabbit.

“Ah’m out awf hair!” The large bulky man wanted nothing to do with that crazy boy and limped his way out the salon in a hurry.

The look in the boy’s eyes softened before he patted his little sister on the head, “Good job, Rebecca. You scared him away!”

“Eh!?” The girl perked her head up. She wasn’t sure what just happened but went along with it, enjoying being patted and praised.

“Now then…,” his attention drifted towards the one who offered him the free Risky Red. “Someone suggested to me to visit this island and ‘recommended’ that I come to this bar. But then…, something happened, and I lost communication. I had such little information to work with, so… I will feel like a complete idiot if I am talking to the wrong person right now.”

Excluding his own glass, there were at least nine others with a glass of Risky Red; all of whom showed no signs to have touched their drinks. Either all of this was pure coincidence and the man he’s talking to right now was just a very generous fella to have offered to buy him a drink, or these are the people he was supposed to meet when coming to this bar.

[Vio]

⁶

---

“‘Recommended’, huh?” Jakob queried, looking to the stranger. In his eyes, Bryony could see the young man’s reflection; a steady analysis of this newcomer. To give him credit, the boy’s story sounded solid enough, save the elusive details. He seemed the guarded type, though Miss Whitaker’s silent query was in regard to the presence of the little girl. “Well then, let me settle your doubts,” he continued: “Considering you haven’t taken a sip of Risky Red, I guess you’re with us in this little mission of ours. Am I right?”

^{“Oh, you’re with the Revolution!” Bryony announced:
“I was worried you were Cipher Pol, y’know?”}

^{“Uh, but he could still–”}

“Don’t be silly, Jakob,” the cheerful chestnut chirped. “If it was Cipher Pol, there’d be a lot more detail to that story of his, y’know? So! This is Jakob, I’m Bryony. What’re your names?”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

“Yes,” Pluto nodded in response as he was indeed assigned to take part in their mission.

“Oh, you’re with the Revolution!”

Pluto froze his expression, dumbstruck. After all this meticulous preparation with the Risky Red and his careful usage of his words, this girl just flat out said the word ‘Revolution’.

I... was trying to say that without using that word... I thought we were supposed to be secretive about our affiliation... If someone is eavesdropping on us, there goes our little secret...

There was no room for misinterpretation either. The mentioning of her concerns about the Cipher Pol made sure of that.

I wish this girl could be a little bit more discrete.

Nevertheless, as fellow strangers, they ought to be on guard even amongst one another. Not knowing who any of these people naturally led him to reserve his trust and faith in them for the time being.

Even the older man couldn’t rule out the possibility of his alignment with Cipher Pol entirely, but before he could even finish conveying his thought, the girl happily dismissed such worries and identified themselves with their names.

Pluto’s attention returned back to this happy-go-lucky little girl. He scrutinized her, trying to decipher just what kind of person she is.

YOU’RE NOT EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT SUSPICIOUS OF ME!?

The little sister immediately took the chance to interject as she practically climbed over her brother’s shoulders to peek over, “I’m Rebecca! And, this is my brother, Pluto! He’s... Mmmm! ” her mouth was soon cupped over by said brother’s hand, muffling her silent. She, too, radiated out a positive, energetic vibe.

“That’s as far as you go,” said the irked older brother.

A-Am I going to be alright?

In terms of keeping secrets, he didn’t trust either of these two little girls. Putting all that aside, he went straight to the point and asked, “Jakob, what is the mission about?”

...

Outskirts of Porter Town...

Out into the seas, a large ship with a dark green vessel approached the island. Its huge white sails and flags carried the renowned blue, symmetrical symbol of justice, appearing as two humps with a double-headed wrench going horizontally across. Bold, capitalized letters spelled out the word ‘MARINE’ on the sails. Uniformed soldiers in white stood on the main deck, one in the crow’s nest viewed the island with a telescope.

...

Barter Town...

Outside, several Travel Lizards and Desert Horses were stationed in an organized manner. The lizards were large scaly greenish brown reptiles that were as large as adult horses and were the most efficient creatures to cross the desert quickly. All of them carried special cargo; it was common to see these creatures transporting products from town to town.

At the head of an oval shaped table within a meeting room, a large, lanky man sat with his fingers interlocked, elbows resting on the table. A vulture perched on his right shoulder, glaring each member at the table with its sharp piercing eyes. And, matching the eyes of the vulture, the man raised his stern, cold eyes that were shadowed beneath the rim of his gallon-sized cowboy hat, “Ahr thuh preparations all set?”

“Yes, everythin' is goin' accordin' ta schedule, Chief. Ownlee one guh-rouhp seems ta be arrivin' late.”

[Vio]

⁷

---

“Well,” Jakob began, giving Bryony a strange look. “Sources have told us that the slave trade is becoming more prolific in this region of the world, and Resinbar’s own Barter Town – the island’s centre of livestock trading – is where it’s all happening. From what intel we’ve managed to gather, it seems it’s primarily humans; more ‘exotic’ races aren’t too common, which actually makes it harder for us in a way. The plan’s simple enough, but step one is to get on our way to Barter. A couple of wagons are stationed ready for us to join an upcoming supply run headed towards Vesper Town, but we’ll split off as we pass by Barter.”

^{“Say, Pluto,” said another of the patrons:
“What’s with the little sister…?”}

“Yeah,” added another. The first was a burlier man with dark brown mutton chops and not much hair on his head, but this one was a more lithe yet muscled gentleman with long blond hair and matching beard. “I do hope you’re not planning on bringing her along with us. The last thing we need on this mission is a liability.” Miss Whitaker caught it; a look from the men as that last word was used. It wasn’t just directed at the newcomer’s sibling, but also towards the similarly short-statured girl. “Name’s Guillaume, by the by,” the blond man added. “That’s Wat.”

^{“Mm,” Jakob interrupted:
“That’s another point I need to make.”}

^{“What’s that…?”}

“None of us – or at least very few of us – will have worked together before this mission.” Bryony listened with intent, aware that she had only recently met Jakob by stroke of luck. Until today, in fact, she had no idea he even existed. “We’ve no real bonds outside of shared ideology, am I right? Some of us might not even have anything in common. Any differences we may end up having, we need to set them aside immediately for the sake of the mission, understood?”

^{“Sure thing,” Guillaume nodded:
“So, what’s everybody’s specialities…?”}

Bryony went to speak, but Jakob stopped her, placing a hand over her mouth in a similar manner to Pluto and Rebecca.

“I’m specialising into intel and recon; I’ll be your eyes and ears – and nose if necessary – on the outside. This mission’s going to need utmost caution because, as far as geography goes, we’re sitting ducks if we get caught in the middle of the operation,” Jakob explained, clear and thorough in his delivery. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but let’s just say Bryony here’s got some skills that’ll come in handy should we get into a pinch. Speaking of which, we don’t want too much attention drawn to us. Combat is to be avoided if at all possible, and if you absolutely must fight, try and avoid making too much of a mess. Our priority is locating the slaves and busting them out of there.”

---

SPOILER: Click to show

{OOC}

[/sub]

Starring…

_{Whitaker, Bryony (ace1af)
Jakob (8f3f00)}

[/ul][/spoiler][/font][/sup][/blockquote][/div][/div][/div]

[BlacKitten]

“Understood,” said the violet-eyed, raven-haired boy after Jakob’s explanation of the situation.

This sounds similar to my very first mission. I once had to rescue one of our own from an underwater island, Blue Lagoon. There was a fishman there who went by the name of Varuna; he ran a slave trade of humans as his business.

A brown bearded patron directed a question towards him, questioning Rebecca’s presence of being here. He expressed his hope that the little girl wouldn’t be brought along during this mission as she would be a liability. Another man with blond hair and beard agreed, identifying himself as Guillaume.

Pluto narrowed his eyes. He caught on to their glances towards Bryony as well. These men didn’t want any of these girls to partake in the mission. It was understandable; in fact, his old self would have thought the same. He didn’t need to look to know what his sister’s expression is. Powerlessness was a common feeling among the weak; he used to feel the same and sometimes still do.

Jakob then brought up the point of setting aside their differences for the sake of the mission. From his point of view, he may have wanted to have Bryony to feel included.

“Specialty, huh...,” Pluto angled his head up in reflection upon himself. “Well... I don’t carry any weapons on me, but I know some basic self-defense. Though..., the reason that I was invited to join this entire affiliation of ours was likely due to my specialty in infiltrating and escaping.” After all, his devil-fruit power greatly facilitated those mentioned skills.

Rebecca held back a chuckled at his response. She would have phrased all that very differently if given the chance to describe her brother’s specialties.

“As for my sister, she’s very good at cooking. But, I suppose more importantly, a monster will look less scary when befriending a kitten. Having someone like her around would make us all seem less suspicious. If it’s liability that you’re worried about, then leave that to me. It is my responsibility in looking after her.”

Rebecca smiled at him, glad to have heard those words from him.

“And? What’s your specialty, Guillaume?” He asked the same question back at the blond man.