The Island of Madness with Fox Boi and Two Creepy Lolis

[dazbreaker]

Wicked yawned from her position in the ravens nest of the Lazy Scoundrel, staring out at the ocean comfortably several stories above the water.  It was annoying being on a ship.  There was no dirt to make a Cemetary, thus she had no servants to take care of her.  Thankfully some of the crew below had been taken in by her cute, innocent demeanor.  While they were not really servants, they did go to lengths to keep her happy.  Which was acceptable.

”Oh ho?”  She shielded her eyes to the sun, spying something dark on the horizon.  Wicked shifted in her chair, pulling her feet off of the edge of the nest, steadying herself to look and see what the source of the darkness was.  “Heeeeeey!”  She called downward.

”What ye see lass?”  Called up the captain, a portly, but jovial and genuinely pleasant bearded man named Captain Whiskey.

”Stormclouds due north!”  Wicked shouted.  The ship seemed to be heading right for it, but they were still miles out, plenty of time to avoid the storm.  The response that echoed up was a booming laugh from the Captain.

”AYE!  That’s no storm little lady!  That be our destination!”  Wicked furrowed her brow and looked over the nest to get a better look at Whiskey.  “Might wanna come down now!  Things are gonna get choppy!”  Wicked just shrugged, and hopped over the edge of the ravens nest into a bucket attached to a rope and pulley.  With a whistle, one of the sailors below started lowering her down.  She easily gripped onto the rope with one hand, and held her skirt down with the other.  In a minute, she was on the deck of the four masted Schooner, and merrily skipped over to the rails to look ahead.  Whiskey’s voice came once more.  “Not many people know about Darkhall’s Island.  Those who see the storm that surrounds it rarely choose to go through willingly!”

”Darkhall’s Island?”  Wicked asked.  She had never heard of such a thing.  But then she didn’t read much into maps or oceanography.

”Yessum.  Name of the fellow who owns it.  Doctor Deacon Darkhall!  Bit of a mad sort.  Into all kinds of science.  I bring supplies for him and the only village on the island.  You ever heard the legends about the island?”  Whiskey was talkative as always.  He was a pleasant man, good natured, and happy to talk.  Wicked didn’t like to talk, so she was keen to let him go on as he pleased.

”Can’t say that I have.”

”Hmmmm.  They say the storm there goes on and on forever because of a curse!”  That got Wicked’s attention.  She liked stories about curses.  “Aye.  Legend has it the island used to be a great kingdom, protected by a mighty god no less!”  Wicked turned to look at Whiskey, who was staring at the growing storm with a big smile on his face.  He was enjoying himself, and waved various sailors to get around to tasks without needing words.  “They say the god fell in love with the King’s daughter.  But the princess was a right loon she was.  Supposedly she kept giving the God crazy tasks to prove his love.  They kept getting crazier and crazier, changing the landscape, building mountains, carving her likeness into the cliffs and the like.”

”How romantic.”  Wicked smiled.  “Did he win her love?”  Whiskey shook his head, to Wicked’s dismay.

”Nay.  She drove him crazy with her requests, and then she up and married some pretty young prince from another land.  The god went insane, cursed and spat upon the island.  They say the storm that always surrounds it is his anger incarnate.  That’s why they call the place by another name.”  Wicked quirked her head.  Whiskey was a good storyteller.  Now she was curious!  And more than a little glad that she’d been picked up by his ship.  At first she was worried they were unscrupulous sorts, which many were.  While he and his crew were privateers and transporters, he was carrying a large group of what seemed to Wicked to be thugs and criminals, all looking for work on this island.   “They call it, THE ISLAND OF MADNESS!  DYAAAADYADYADYAAAA!”  

His laughter boomed even as the rain suddenly hit the ship like a sheet of lead, and his crew rushed about to finish their preparations.  Wicked was tingling with excitement.  An island of madness!  With curses and gods and crazy scientists!  As she went inside, she couldn’t help but dream of what adventures she might find on such an island.  Perhaps they would have some beautiful graveyards she could explore?

[Blitzfrieg]

"Alright.  Afraid we are gonna have to part ways here kid."  Miss Friede said as she pulled the row boat over the last few yards of open water.  Cog's stuck out her tongue at the water and made a weird face at it, somewhere between a sneer and a taunt.  Friede was really strong....and tall!  Cog's wished she was as tall as Miss Friede!  The bounty hunter gave the boat one last tug, and hauled it up onto the beach of this island.  

"Fine by me!"  Cog's whistled as she did a handstand on the side of the boat, and flipped to the ground with a graceful landing that would make a ballerina jealous.  Meanwhile, the rest of Friede's crew jumped out as well.

There was Miss Friede of course.  She was tall and beautiful, if a bit scary.  She had several jagged scars across her face, but a pretty face at that.  She always wore a trench coat, but without sleeves, showing off well toned, strong arms.  There were scars all over those as well, and she gripped an enormous rifle with one hand, propped against her shoulder.  The shells for it hung from a belt beneath her coat, each one was as big as Cog's fist!  The woman had one of those cool pirate, tricorner hats, with a mass of curly white hair hanging from it like a wild mane.

Then there was Banner and Bruce, two men as big as Friede, but wearing heavy armor.  They didn't seem to have weapons, just full plate armor like some kind of knights.  But the bombs hanging from their pouches made Cog's think they had more tricks up their sleeve.  And it just dawned on her that the whole trip she'd never seen their faces....

Then Hanzer, an old man with a long scraggly beard and eyes hidden beneath the dark shadows cast by his bushy eyebrows.  He had a big cutlass on his hip, and a brace of six pistols on his chest, and was wearing what Cog's imagined a pirate would wear.  Fluffy shirt and baggy pants, with a long green and white checkered sash around his waist.  He wore a funny green beret that Cog's secretly wanted, though he was scary fast, and no matter what she couldn't nab it.

Lastly was Aura, a quiet woman wearing a strange sort of robe that Cog's had never seen before.  It was like a layered dress, but covered almost everything.  She had long black hair, tied up in a bun that was held in place with long metal needles.....and she always wore a ceramic mask that was painted with incredible detail to look like some scary fox demon or something.  She carried two swords at her hip, cool curved swords with straight handles and very ornate decorated sheathes.

"You remember the deal right?"  Friede said as her crew went about making sure they had all their supplies.  It was storming out pretty bad, but Cog's liked the rain, and her bodysuit didn't let the water in.  Friede's crew stowed the boat away, and they all made for an outcropping for temporary cover.  Cog's casually put her hands behind her head, and triggered her devil fruit ability, creating a pair of large gears with axles centered on her ankle bones.  

"Yeah yeah.  Food and transport for half my bounties."  She said in a bored tone as she rolled along the wet sand with Friede.  "Two days.  Meet back here or I get left behind."  She rolled into cover, and shook the water from her suit like a dog.

"Right.  And?"  Friede was a stickler for rules and planning.  Which Cog's barely cared about.  She just wanted to have fun and beat up bad guys!  When she heard a bunch of bad guys were on their way to this island she was expecting fun.....not lame rules.  Cog's rolled her eyes and wrung out her long white hair.

"Ugh....don't get in your way!"  Cog's stuck out her tongue.  As if she'd get in Friede's way.  Friede should worry about getting in HERS!

"Good.  One last thing.  In case of emergency."  Friede tossed Cog's a weird looking gun, and immediately picking up on the young looking girls confusion, clarified.  "It's a flare gun.  Shoot it in the sky if you have serious trouble, or catch a major bounty."  With that, the bounty hunter hefted her weapon, and flashed some signals to her crew, who rather wordlessly started heading back onto the beach to find a path up the cliffs and into the forest.

[Sam]

Splash Splash

A paddle skimmed the top of the water weaving across mangrove trees as a ferryman rowed his low boat. The man was scrawny and pale with deep-set eyes. His name was Obol, a local ferryman who lived in the island's only lighthouse and a secret government worker meant to keep a constant vigil over the island.

Reynard, the other individual on the boat maintained silence, Obol gave him the creeps... although, in all honesty, this whole island did. It was uncomfortable... it gave the fox-man a certain sensation under his skin like an incessant chilling mixed with itching. An odd feeling he found odd to describe. But alas, this was his job for now.

That's right, Reynard was in a special mission! He was sent to scout the island out and figure out what the local whacko Doctor Darkhall was up to. The Marines couldn't be bothered to send an actual higher up... or a team... or for that matter a Cipher Pol agent to investigate. If anything they would much rather send him a lowly Seaman someone capable yet somewhat expendable. Reynard had taken this task up in hopes it would look good on his resume if you will. As a means to climb up the ladder. But little did he know what he had gotten himself into.

"We stop here..."

Obol said, pointing his thin boney finger at the muddy bank ahead. Reynard frowned, he wasn't too keen on getting himself dirty. Something that mud happened to be very good at. The ferryboat hit the muddy bank with a light thud and Reynard hopped off. His boots sinking into the dark brown almost black mud of the somewhat swampy island.

"Remember, don't look too inconspicuous... just look around. Oh and put on this costume... you can't walk around in that seaman outfit."

The Ferryman said, he tossed a bag full of clothing for Reynard to change into. Immensely the Seaman opened up the bag and found some old brown clothing. It was baggy and old looking like something someone's old scarecrow would wear. A floppy widebrim hat with holes in it and a long brown coat that was ripped at the bottom. Reynard's frown became more pronounced as he began to put on the clothes over his Marine attire. This wasn't what he had in mind when Obol said costume. After putting everything on Reynard saluted his superior.

"Aye aye, Lieutenant Obol!"

To which Obol simply nodded putting a pipe in his mouth. He then began to paddle his boat away once more. But before he could disappear into the light mists of the island he turned around to say one last thing.

"The nearest village is directly south! Oh and watch out for the Mudhounds... they're giant mudpuppies very territorial! Goodluck Seaman."

Reynard tilted his head, 'Mudhounds?' He thought to himself. That didn't sound fun... if anything that sounded terrifying! The seaman took a deep breath, they would have to keep their eyes peeled. Reynard turned around to look at the bog ahead of him. It was terrifying and unknown, he felt his legs weaken a bit. Taking in a deep breath he reminded himself why he was here! He wanted a title and god damn it he would get one! If he wanted to be a great Marine hero someday he would have to push beyond his fear and be brave. With a heart full of resolve, Reynard marched onward. 

[dazbreaker]

It seemed as though the storm was worse on the edge, a strange bit of weather anomaly that served quite well to deter the average sailor or traveler.  Wicked had remained in the cabin until they got closer, where the raging winds and rain seemed to weaken to a light drizzle and a pleasant breeze.  According to the Captain, the weather was weird here.  Once a month the outer storm would rage through the mainland, causing all sorts of ruckus and damage. Otherwise, the island would experience varying degrees of dismal light rain and heavy fog.

"Goodday Captain Whiskey.  I believe I'm going to explore a bit."  Wicked said as she headed for the gangplank.  

"Aye girl.  We will be here for a couple days.  As long as ye are back before we leave ye have a transport waiting!"  The captain was busy tending to his ship, and Wicked headed to the pier.  They were at a small, but seemingly quite busy village.  It had a truly marvelous aesthetic that immediately put a cheer in Wicked's heart! She skipped her way past sailers, merrily heading down the pier, her frilly skirt bouncing with the same energy as her massive hair-drills.  She was dressed somewhat conservatively, if strangely.  Her legs were protected by black and orange stripped leg warmers, her frilly skirt attached to a black corset, with a silky soft orange long armed blouse beneath it.  She had a high frilly collar and cuffs, which all in all added to the fact that she could not stand out more among the citizens of this little town.

The road was dirt and cobblestone, but was lined with lovely lanterns hung from crooked, creepy looking trees.  The buildings were all fashioned from a wood that was either naturally black, or lacquered to appear so.  Despite the island being so well hidden, and dismal in weather, it seemed like the vendors and stalls were well stocked with all manner of strange fruits and treats.  Including someone selling what appeared to be Mudhound on a stick, which Wicked had to admit smelled really good.  

"Well now.  What should I do first?"  Should she get something to eat?  She didn't have much money.  But all those thugs were here for work.  Maybe she could find this strange professor as well and earn some spending money?  Or maybe they had a cemetery nearby that she could explore!  She needed some money, but she was also curious about those Mudhound sticks.  So she decided to use what little she had, and get a little information on this Doctor Darkhall.

[Blitzfrieg]

It didn’t take Cog’s long to get off the beach. Unlike the bounty hunters who had to trudge their way through the mud and sand, she was able to take a less conventional route. “Knuckle Grinder super duper secret variation technique.....Gear Claw!” She struck a pose with both arms crossed in front of her while the tips of her fingers transformed into little, quarter sized gears.

“Giya Giya no....” Cog’s crouched down, and jumped up with all her strength, which sent her rocketing up into the air. “Grindhouse!” A pair of big, dinner plate sized metal gears extended from her feet, axles centered on her ankle bones. She spun up both those and the ones on her fingers, then stabbed her fingers into the rocky cliff face.

“Hehehe....whoooo! LET’S GO HUNT PEOPLE!” Like some kind of strange, noisy animal Cog’s frantically climbed the cliff, her ankle gears propelling her forward and giving momentum as their thick teeth dug into the stone, while she clawed big gouges out of the rock pulling her up quite quickly. It took her very little time all in all, and despite being quite soaked by the rain on the outside, she was having the time of her life. If there was one thing that defined Number 21, it was the innocent zeal with which she approached life’s challenges. If there was a second thing, it was the neurotic passion she had for beating up bad people.

”AAAAAAAND.....” Cog’s launched herself over the edge of the cliff into the cover of massive trees, flipping through the air and sticking a perfect landing, raising up with grace which would be unappreciated by anyone save for herself. “.....ten out of ten! BEEEWWWM!” She blew kisses to the trees, pretending they were her audience. “Thank you thank you....I will be here all night!” She let her finger gears go away, shifting back into the slick, waterproofed white leather gloves that covered her hands. Those hands clasped behind her back, and Cog’s began humming merrily as she started to ‘skate’ across the damp forest floor, her ankle gears propelling her forward and digging shallow trenches in the mossy ground.

She had no idea where she was. Only a vague idea of where the village was. But that didn’t matter! She would head in that direction, and see what she found! Meanwhile, she practiced her ‘skating’, performing tricks, using the trees to avoid ponds, and enjoying the forest on the way. It really was a pretty place. Despite the dampness, it smelled fruity and she saw all kinds of glowing flowers!

[Sam]

Walking on mud was an uncomfortable endeavor... not just because of the foul smell of a bogs muck but also because walking on the stuff was hell. Not to mention the constant squelching sound his rubber boots made every time the stepped on the ground. Lucky for Reynard that was coming to an end as he saw the village just a little away from him. It had been a long walk, one that he had trouble discerning properly since he didn't have a watch and also because of the storm clouds that obstructed the sky making the sun nigh impossible to view. The only light sources in the area came from the odd ray of sunlight that managed to cross through the murky sky. That and the occasional will o' wisp which was common in this environment... an odd phenomenon caused by gases in the air that built up under the mud. Most people thought these things were ghosts... but Reynard who'd grown up in the countryside  knew better than that. In fact he was all too accustomed to them since anywhere cows could be found so could will o' wisps since the gases they produces where the same that built under the muck in the swamp. Likely the reason for the foul smell in the air.

"This must be the town Obol told me about..."

He muttered to himself, the young seaman let out a sigh looking behind him. He saw a long waste of mud and thickets behind him... all he could think about was his complete and utter luck. Reynard hadn't run into any Mudhounds on his way here likely because he avoided any sight of puddles or large bodies of water. Which if he judged the creatures much like their smaller cousin the mudpuppies that's where they'd be. Turning back around he went into the village just a few paces ahead of him. As he entered the quite village he fixed his hat in such a fashion that made his eyes difficult to view. Only his nose and grimacing mouth were visible in his face.

As he entered the town the smell of the bog had dissipated just a bit and the streets of the village were now dimly lit by colorful tree lamps that seemed to struggle to survive just a minute longer. The people of the village were dressed in black, grey, or brown clothing... likely a product of very little trade making the import of dyes that much more difficult. As he walked through he noticed nobody had taken interest in him as he'd expected given it was a small village. Instead, people seemed hard at work... Reynard looked around for a bar or tavern. He wasn't much of a drinker but those places usually had information. After he skimmed the horizon a bit his eyes finally landed on an old rickety building made of wood... a sign with a mug of beer hung up on the front. The curious vulpine couldn't help but wonder what exactly this island had to serve since small villages like these usually had their own unique drinks. In the end, he decided waiting around would only make him seem more suspicious so he paced forward toward the tavern.

[dazbreaker]

Wicked had to admit, Mudhound was pretty good. As she chewed on the savory, salty-dried meat snack she approached a tavern. It was somewhat old and worn in appearance, which was surprising seeing as taverns were usually more well kept.

She continued anyways. As she came closer she noticed someone else approaching as well. Something about him stuck out. Not that he was dressed much differently than anyone else here. Perhaps it was that his face was so well hidden. A floppy wide brimmed hat and a heavy coat obscured most of his features. Most of the sailors didn’t seem to bother with any such thing, and she assumed everyone in the village knew each other and needed no disguises. Still, it wasn’t her business. Perhaps he was just ugly or scarred. She herself was probably an eyesore for these people with her gothic, frilly skirt and corset, the puffy shoulders of her blouse partially hidden by her massive hair drills.

She passed into the tavern, noting an immediate change in mood and ambience. An old blind man played a strange instrument that looked like a block of wood with a dozen strings running its lengths. His gnarled fingers plucking a soft, somewhat melancholy tune that she found absolutely endearing. Next to him was a flute player who contrasted the chords with a more cheerful melody. The two combined to form an enchanting sound that immediately put Wicked at ease.

The tavern was quite full with only a few tables free. Men and women alike were drinking, laughing, and sharing stories over an alcoholic drink that smelled extremely sweet and even glowed slightly! She would discover that it was made from a fruit native to the island, and the glow was the result of a bioluminescent type of flower used in the fermentation process. Sadly, Wicked could not convince the bartender of her real age, and had to settle for a non alcoholic tea made from the same flower. Thankfully, it was quite good, and sweet to boot.

Wicked took her tea, her Mudhound stick, and found her way to a board that had what looked to be a map of the island along with various notices and bounties. Next to the board a lovely young woman with curly blue hair and thick rimmed glasses was signing up men from the Lazy Scoundrel. Wicked decided to study the map, while listening for any interesting information.

Apparently the island was split into three neat sections. One was a mud-waste, a hazardous area sparsely populated by massive trees that produced the fruit used by the village. But it was treacherously pocked with tar pits, deceptively deep ponds, sinkholes, and Mudhound packs. The second are was a thick forest, dense and filled with its own dangers, but more easily traveled for those who knew it. It had some swampy areas, but was full of all kinds of potent herbs and flowers used in all manner of poultices and such. The last area was a rocky highland area on the far side of the island. According to the map Darkhall lived there in his manor estate, and the road there perfectly bisected between the other two thirds of the island. His area had many warnings on the map for some kind of dangerous beasts called “Deathfangs”.

[Blitzfrieg]

Cog's trip was going well for the most part.  She hummed and whistled as she gleefully skated her way through the forest.  It seemed easy enough to stick to higher aground and avoid some swampy areas.  As pretty as the glowing flowers were, she didn't wanna get stuck in mud or water.  She had to avoid that given her devil fruit.  

All of a sudden, Cog's slid to a stop, head down, arms at her side.  She sniffed the air, and remained motionless.  The forest had gone very quiet.  The sounds of birds had gone, and all she could hear was the drip drip drip of rain pattering through the leaves onto the mossy ground.  Cog's stood very still, then started gently swaying back and forth, her head rolling with the motion, arms swinging like pendulums.

This went on for half a minute, until the forest exploded into violent action.  All at once bushes around her burst as figures lunged out of them, flying like brown furred bullets straight for the swaying....helpless girl.

"Giya Giya no...."  The first one came from above and to the left, from a branch above her.  "Gear Chopper!"  As she swayed to one side, seemingly oblivious, Cog's suddenly spun into her motion, whipping her right arm around, using another slight variation of her Gear Knuckle technique.  This one struck like a karate chop strike, but forming a spinning gear along the edge of her hand like a grinding axe.  Her hand smashed into her attacker's jaw, sending it sprawling off to the side.

But the attacker wasn't the first.  They kept coming, and Cog's kept spinning.  Her body twisted and turned, sometimes her leg and joints would shift into gears, allowing her to perform feats of contortion that would kill a normal person, shifting her direction and momentum on a dime.  She was moving so quick she wasn't registering her attackers beyond the fact that they were still attacking.  A spinning heel kick sent one flying into a tree.  Her midsection transformed into a horizontal gear, allowing her to spin several times and launch a powerful straight punch into the chest of another attacker.....and then after about a dozen, they stopped.

"Huh?  All done?"  Cog's stuck out her tongue, and whipped her hair back over her shoulders.  "No fun!"  She skipped over to one of the bodies, and knelt down to look at it.  "Oh wow! You are a weirdo!"  She exclaimed.  It looked like....like it might have been an animal....maybe a bat?  But it was weirdly big and humanoid looking.  It's arms were much bigger and muscular, but still had the wings attached.  It's claws and teeth were metal now, which was weird, and it had leather grafted onto its body like some kind of armor.  "Ooooh.....spooky...."  It was almost as tall as she was!  Which was BIG for a bat!  She poked it several times, and eventually shrugged.  Were all animals on this island like this?  

"You.....you die...."  Came a voice from behind her.  She peeked, to see a person coming out of the trees.  It was a person. 

"Oh wow! This island is great!  Are you a monster mister?"  She hopped up, and started stretching.  The man was enormous, muscular to a grotesque degree, and looked really bizarre. his eyes were stitched over, and his ears looked like they'd been sewn on, big bat like looking things.  His body also looked like it was covered in fur in many places, like it had been sewn on as well.  He was wearing loose pants, but he was otherwise unclothed.  Like the bat thing, his nails and teeth which were bared at her, were metal and very sharp.  

"Mine...they....were...mine...."  He groaned, still moving towards her slowly, lumbering like he was in a daze.  Cog's quirked an eyebrow and looked around.

"You mean them?"  She crouched down, stretching her legs now.  "They attacked first so don't get mad at me!  You gonna attack too?  I'll kill you if you do."  She said it like a fact, more than a threat.  Rolling her neck, she popped it several times, then lowered her gaze through half closed eyelids.  Her eyes taking on a dangerous light.

"You....you die!"  With that, he suddenly lunged into a sprint, closing the distance between them very quickly.  It appeared Cog's had her answer.

[Sam]

The inside of the tavern was a lot more cozy and comfortable than the outside. It was surprisingly good and in fact, most of the local inhabitants seemed chipper as they spoke among each other over meals and drinks. Reynard let out a sigh of relief, he was a bit disappointed in himself for his previous beliefs of this island. His previous beliefs of it being creepier than expected. In reality it seemed to be fairly tame save for its unfriendly looking exterior. As he came indoors and past the doors he spotted someone else... a little girl? He opened the door for her. Reynard wasn't exactly sure if she was a native of this island or not. But his better judgement told him she wasn't from around judging by her gothic outfit.

"Hey, can I have some water? I'm just a little parched."

He said to the barkeep, who promptly brought him a cup without even taking much note of him. Reynard tipped the scarecrow hat at the barkeep and drunk some of the water. It was cool and clear... which he needed after the trek he'd been forced to make. Sitting on a stool in a lonely table he looked around the place but nothing overly interesting seemed to be going on. In fact he began to doubt his superior's interest in sending him here. The island seemed fairly tame so far. In fact the tavern the usually more rambunctious place seemed pretty in order. If anything it seemed better than most he'd been to. Since at least this one wasn't breaking into an all-out brawl from drunkards.

As Reynard looked through the small crowding of people the only thing that popped out at him was the little girl from before. He wondered where she'd come from... and why she dressed differently. Not that, that was any of his business. But, it seemed odd considering how everyone else on the island was dressed. The big brother in him couldn't help but feel slightly worried... he hoped her parents were somewhere around. Children running around on the loose was not safe especially in these times. More so on an island like this one with giant salamanders. The young marine let out a sigh and decided to approach her... if anything it was also an excuse to look at the map.

The young marine got off his stool and paced toward the map. Taking a stand next to her... perhaps this wasn't a good idea. He would probably look suspicious standing in front of a map especially if he was a local. Then again he could always argue he was a cartographer of sorts and wanted to validate the authenticity of the map. Reynard wasn't exactly a great liar but he knew how to make an albeit on the fly. He was becoming better and better at it the more he worked for the Marines and was forced to do this sort of work.

[dazbreaker]

Wicked continued to observe the map, at first unaware of the young man that approached beside her. She had become more and more engrossed in the thugs signing up for the work being offered by Doctor Darkhall. The young woman had a streamlined system, and was hitting down names under one of three groups depending on the person.

Wicked was a good listener. Small, quiet, and despite her attire accustomed to going unnoticed. Darkhalls apparent assistant had three groups. First was something she called Defensive Applications. Whatever that meant, but it seemed like the biggest, strongest individuals were being put into that group.

Next came the Acquisitions Group. These all looked like agile, fleet of foot type of people. Skinnier, but quick on their feet. Lastly was something simply called Specialists. By Wickeds hearing only one person had been signed to that group, a mysterious person completely shrouded in thick robes that she remembered from the ship.

All of a sudden, her attention was drawn to someone at her side. Looking up, she found a pleasant young man also looking at the map.

“Are you new as well?” It was a reflexive question. One borne of pure curiosity and no devious intent. It struck her as natural that a citizen of this place wouldn’t need the map to find their way around.

“My name is Wicked. Wicked White.” Tea in one hand, almost eaten Mudhound stick in the other, she performed a perfect, graceful curtsy. Her eyes shined and her smile was warm. Then sticking her snack in her mouth she extended her hand. If he chose to shake it she would be extremely careful not to squeeze to hard. Wicked had no reason to reveal her monstrous grip strength to anyone at this point. It was in her nature to keep all her cards hidden until they needed to be played. This way, she was always in control.

“A pleasure to meet you. Are you here for work like them?” She quirked her head, feigning a childish expression. “To be perfectly honest I’m only here on accident. But I find myself a little short on money. So I was thinking about joining them. I don’t suppose you know what this Darkhall person is all about do you?” Wicked put on her best smile. She liked being a beam of warmth in peoples lives, at least until she needed to be colder than death.

[Blitzfrieg]

Cog’s stamped her way through the forest in a huff, a muddy trench being dug by the heavy body of the guy who attacked her.  His weight was nothing for her, but he was a big lunk and there was no real easy way to carry him.  Part of her just wanted to leave him in the mud, but a specific tattoo on his back identified him as one of the bounties on her list. 

“Could have at least showed me a good time.”  She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry into the empty forest.  He had turned out to be far more bark than bite.  Perhaps normal people would have a problem.  But all she had to do was slip to the side and tag him in the jaw once.  His own momentum carried him face first into a tree and knocked him out completely.

”One hundred Thousand Beri.”  She mumbled.  It was good money.  She would have plenty to eat.  But what she really wanted was a fight.  Bobbi Ray Manley was this guys name.  But he didn’t look like his poster anymore.  If it wasn’t for the tattoo she wouldn’t have recognized him.  

Finally they reached the road.  And before she could even start deciding which way was too the village, someone spoke up, nearly startling Cogs out of her bodysuit.

”I will have to ask you to hand that over please.”  Cog’s transformed her neck into a gear, turning her head with a series of creepy clicks to glare at the speaker.  Her eyes were cold, wide, and rather monstrous.  Almost glowing with a sinister malice.  She was staring at a very tall stranger with broad shoulders and long arms.  He was completely covered in a tight trench coat that looked to be strapped on with leather belts.  His face was obscured with bandages, his eyes covered by thick sunglasses.  A pair of large bolts extended from either side of his neck.

”This?  He’s a bad guy.  I beat up bad guys.”  She quirked her head to the side.  “Then I get money.  I already beat him up.....are you trying to stop me from getting my money?”  Cog’s was hiding the fact that she had no idea how he got there.  She hadn’t heard him, sensed him. Had he been waiting? It didn’t really matter, but she couldn’t help but wonder how strong he was.  Was he just quiet?  Or was he something else.

”You will have to get your reward elsewhere.  That belongs to Professor Darkhall.  And I will be taking it now.”  He took a step forward, and Cog’s responded like a beast.  Her limbs transformed, gears segmenting her body, every part of her that could be weaponized started to spin and grind.

”Good!  I was BORED!  You get a beating too!”  Cog’s spun her ankle gears to top speed and launched herself across the space between them, teeth bared and spinning, fingers into grating claws.  It was her turn to go on the attack, and she was hungry for a real scrap.  So she held nothing back.

[Sam]

Work? Money? Them? So many questions went through Reynard's mind at that very moment. What was this little girl talking about? Why did she act like an adult?

Perhaps, it was rude to assume maybe she just had a young face. In the end, it wasn't his problem what or who she was. His priorities in the island were clear. Find Darkhall and see what he was up to and this girl had mentioned Darkhall.

"Oh was it obvious? Haha, just between you and me, I am new on this island. But I want to keep my presence on the down low... try and immerse myself."

Reynard went to shake the small woman's hand. Her grip was light and not excessive, rather warm just like her friendly inviting smile. But Reynard knew better, sure he was a young Marine but he was also a fox-man from the countryside. He knew people better than they knew themselves. That was to say, he shouldn't let appearances and demeanors fool you. For people are more unpredictable than the sea... one minute beautiful and tranquil. The next they are a tempest with a gunmetal sky.

"I'm a humble cook... I go from island to island looking at the local cuisine to expand my culinary pallet."

He chuckled an obvious lie. But it was believable enough, at least for the time being. However, he was quick to judge Wicked. Now being full of a tad bit of suspicious considering this small lady's claim of being accidentally here. It was a hard pill to swallow whether it was a lie or the honest truth. Visitors to this island were less than uncommon. That made the young Marine rather wary of this new friend of his. Wicked was her name, Wicked White. He however decided to act natural and play it cool continuing on.

"This just happened to be the next island on my list. In any case, well met Wicked White, my name is Soro."

Revealing his true name right now was a bad idea. Besides, his fake name was if anything very on the nose... not to mention technically he wasn't lying since both his fake name and real name had the same meaning. Reynard looked down at Wicked, his face still rather obscured by the combination of the hat and collar of the coat he wore. But as he said his name he made an intent to make his eyes revealed. They were slender and almond-shaped with a golden tint to them his pupil seemed to shrink into a black slit-like a fox gauging its prey before pouncing as he finished his sentence.

"I've been wondering the same... I don't know all too much about this Darkhall guy except that he's a scientist of sorts. Which does make me a bit curious about him."

Reynard shrugged looking away from Wicked. His eyes once more obscured by the shadows produced from his hat. He now fixated his eyes on the map once more looking all over it. This was a hook to get a closer look at Darkhall... perhaps presenting himself as a chef wasn't a bad idea.

A smug smile materialized over his face. The young marine felt very proud of his quick-wit. However, he would have to wait and see if it would pay off in the long run. He didn't know if his story would be well received or simply dismissed as an obvious lie.

"Heck, curious enough that I might join your little expedition if you don't mind. A little extra money in my pockets is very much welcome. That is if Darkhall is looking for a cook."

[dazbreaker]

"Oh I completely understand!" Wicked chimed with a grin.  She waved her Mudhound stick back and forth.  "I started by immersing myself in the food!"  A cook huh?  He seemed nice enough.  He could be hiding his strength, but his grip did not impress.  Though very few people ever impressed Wicked in that regard.  He had manners though.  And that was of the utmost importance to Wicked, who saw herself as a real lady.

"Soro?  Very well Soro! You may call me Wicked."  That was when he leaned down, just enough that his eyes shone from behind the shadows of his hat.  It was a dramatic move that appealed to the theatrical side of Wicked's personality.  But it paled in comparison to those golden slits he called eyes.  "Oh my! What pretty eyes you have!"  She uttered the statement out loud, and wasn't embarrassed to do so.  The compliment was warranted.  He looked positively unnerving with those peepers!  Wicked was obsessed with all things scary, unnatural, and macabre.  She had never met a human with eyes like that before.  So she was entranced.

"Hmmm?  Darkhall?  Oh yes.  I confess I don't know anything about this island either."  She quirked her head.  "Well.  Except for an old legend about it.  The captain who rescued me told it."  She sighed, and looked over to the signing table.  "To be perfectly frank I'd rather explore a bit.  Perhaps find their cemetery and see how they treat their dead around here."  Wicked sighed again, deeper this time.  

"But.  One needs money to survive." She returned to her earlier smile though.  She daintily placed her cup on a table along with her finished stick, then swept up to Soro and hooked her arm around his.  Then looking up at him with innocent eyes, glistening with youthful zeal, she tossed the line.  "You should come along!  I could use a friend to keep me company!  And you seem nice enough!"  

Wicked liked to keep people on hand.  Her skeletons might draw unwanted attention.  And she didn't want to count on common brigands or privateers.  "Besides maybe I could learn a thing or two about cooking?  You must be quite capable to be out on your own."  She purposely started steering him towards the line.  Of course if he resisted or didn't want to go, she wouldn't force him.  But as long as he was along for the ride, she would steer the way.  Skilled servants were hard to come by.  "If you are worried don't you fret Mr. Soro!  Wicked White will protect you if anyone tries anything!"  She winked with a knowing smile. 

[Blitzfrieg]

The last thing Cog’s expected from this strange person was for him to not even attempt to dodge.  Everyone dodged!  Or they tried to block at least.  But he didn’t even budge.  He shifted only slightly, widening his stance as she closed in.  She didn’t really think about it though.  If he wanted to die, then that was his problem.  If he wanted to stop her from taking in a bounty, that was HIS problem too!

”Gearbite!”  The petite framed woman crashed into the stranger feet first, directly into his chest.  At the same time she latched onto his shoulders with her gear-shifted fingers, grinding into his coat and whatever was beneath to form a death grip on him.  Then her normally razor sharp Fishwoman teeth spun up, transforming into gears and spitting sparks from her mouth as each tooth became a blur of grinding motion.  Cog’s then clamped down on the mans neck with her jaws, chomping down with her casual three thousand pound bite.....and nothing happened.

”EEeeeeeEEEEggghhaaAAAAuuuughh....” Cog’s brain was rattled as her Gearteeth ground futilely against this bizarre person’s skin.  His trench coat tore away like tissue paper, but her teeth couldn’t find any purchase against his skin!  

This had never in Cog’s entire life happened.  She could bite through rock.  She could bite through lots of metal even.  She could rip through anything!  But here, even her fingers were only gripping onto his coat.  

“Are you done?”  Cog’s froze as the man spoke.  She was facing an unknown.  She was unstoppable!  There was no one that could beat her in raw power.....right?  The man sighed, then reached up.  Cog’s had her next surprise when a powerful hand gripped the back of her body suit.  Slowly but surely, he pulled at her, and her fingers simply slipped away, tearing leather along with her.   She tried to hold on, but he was insanely strong.  She couldn’t do anything.  He pulled her away, and then, just as she started to register what was happening, and her instincts started to kick in, he hit her.

He hit her hard.

Harder than she had ever imagined it was possible to be hit.

So hard, that she barely felt it.

One moment she was hanging from his hand, next he let go.  Before gravity could pull her down even an inch, a brutal fist swung around in a savage arc, connecting with Cog’s chest like a battering ram.  

One moment she was Number 21, the monster, the bounty hunter, the force of nature.  Next she was a torpedo, flying through the air, skidding across the ground only to bounce back up, rolling and flailing head over heels.  A hundred meters......two hundred meters....three hundred meters and she was still moving fast.  At five hundred meters she hit a rock that catapulted her up into the air and into a tree nearly ten meters across.  

She never felt the impact.  She was unconscious as soon as she hit.  Nothing slowed her down as she slid down the trunk, falling to the ground heavily, wordlessly, struggling for breath.  Her suit was ripped where the mans fist struck her, a deep red bruise in the shape of his knuckles on her moonlight pale skin just below her sternum.  At least a dozen other tears on her suit from her flight scarred her suit as well, all adding to a major potential problem for the half Fishgirl devil fruit user.  

“You aren’t dead?  Interesting.”  The man said as he eventually reached her landing site.  He was dragging the bounty from before behind him.  As he approached her, he let the other man go, and knelt down to examine her.  “I miscalculated.  I should have hit you harder.  But this is fortunate.  You will be a fantastic subject for the Professor’s experiments.”  Brushing himself off, the stranger adjusted his sunglasses, threw Cog’s over his shoulder, and grabbed his original quarry before turning for Darkhall’s estate.

[Sam]

Reynard would be lying if he said he wasn't suddenly surprised by the explosion of interest that this Wicked girl had suddenly burst with. He looked at the stick she waved back in forth in front of him frantically... Mudhound sticks. That didn't sound all too appetizing but maybe it wasn't that bad. While what he said was a lie he wouldn't mind immersing himself into the culture and culinary arts of the island... it was more exotic than most of the islands found around the East Blue that Reynard had the chance to explore.

"Oh... um... err... thanks."

The young marine flinched back at the compliment. It was something unexpected, to say the least. In fact, it was unexpected enough to make him blush which was something that would likely go unnoticed considering how covered up his face was. Frankly, responding to compliments was difficult for Reynard more often than not he wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. In fact, he didn't really like being complimented at all for that fact although that was near impossible considering he was extremely good looking traditionally speaking.

"I see... well I wouldn't mind looking around for bit either."

So far this island seemed rather mundane which was something that didn't mesh well with what his overseers had told him. In any case, exploring even if it seemed like a waste of time would allow the young man to at the very least scout about... after all the longer one stayed in a certain location the better grasp of it they got.

"Fine, I'll come with you."

Reynard simply replied and before he knew it his arm was hooked around hers. The marine couldn't help but wonder how he got into this situation... it wasn't like he didn't mind. But it did make him feel a tad bit awkward on how fast wicked had made friends with him. No matter, it seemed like he was on the ride whether he wanted to go or not. He just hoped that Wicked wouldn't get in the way of his investigation.

"I assure you Wicked, I can take care of myself quite well so no need to worry about me haha."