Post by Lord Bromosalino on Dec 8, 2021 23:36:53 GMT -5
Log follows this thread.
"Welcome." Creaking open the large oak door, a fairly petite young lady dressed in a fairly common maid's outfit ushered her guest inside and out of the rain quickly. "Hmmph," was the only response her guest would give back, his steely eyes making it known that he wasn't here for pleasantries. Conceding, the much younger woman motioned the man to follow her through the large house. Twisting and turning, she led him past multiple rooms, each holding several men who looked on questioningly. Before anyone could step out and ask who this mystery man was, the maid shot them an icy look. Her emerald green eyes twinkled as if to say, yes, he's who the master has been waiting for. Quickly they moved, their feet matching the quick pattering of raindrops against the estate and the late night winds howling and beating against the windows.
Finally, the maid turned off the path of the hallway and into a rather unassuming bedroom. Pulling on a marble figurine that lay on the nightstand, the solid wall gave way to a hidden staircase. With each step, the temperature steadily dropped and a musk almost damp smell replaced the warm aroma of baked apples wafting from the upstairs kitchen. Just as the man began to wonder how far down the staircase led, his hostess reached for her keys again for another thick door. Unlike every other door inside the mansion, this one was thick steel; a clear sign that whatever lay behind it was not for common eyes. With a heavy click and a spin of the wheel, the large door opened and revealed a large library. Several mahogany chairs lined with faux leather encircled a coffee table. Two of the four chairs were occupied; one by a young woman reading a book who peered at the newest addition to the group over her glasses and the other occupied by an man in his forties sporting a Marine Commodore's jacket and a large cigar in one hand.
A matching desk sat on along the wall, papers and schematics sprawled across its top and a half filled glass of red wine pushed to the corner. Seated in its plush red chair, a man twenty years (at minimum) the elder of anyone present looked up from his documents. Seeing the last member of their group finally arrive, he pushed aside the brown hair that had fallen across his face and grinned. "So, we're all here. Finally." Standing from his work desk and grabbing his half finished drink, the owner of the massive mansion beckoned the final guest to join the rest of the group around the coffee table.
Sipping from the glass, he took a moment to glance over the team he had brought together. An alliance of sorts. All who had come together under his beck and call for a common cause. Years of planning, millions of beri spent, purposeful contemplation and connections made. And now, the alliance had finally come together and were finally meeting. And what a group he had assembled for the final portion of his operation. A terrorist, a wanted pirate and dictator of an island, and a Marine Commodore.
"Shall we begin?"
Sabaody Archipelago. The final island of Paradise and the gateway to the New World. And yet, it wasn't truly an island. At least not by its normal definition. Instead of rock and dirt, Sabaody Archipelago was instead made of nothing but gigantic Yarukiman mangrove trees with roots anchored into the bottom of the ocean floor. Each tree tangled and twisted with others, their branches serving as roadways and bridges for the "island." Homes, shops, and buildings of every shape and color were built atop these roots; the incredibly thick bark serving as a foundation just as sturdy as any concrete base.
That, however, was not the only thing that set Sabaody Archipelago apart from every island. Sabaody Archipelago is, as its been argued by many, the most important island in the Grand Line. Separating Paradise from the New World, all who wish to enter the more difficult seas (whether in search of glory, treasure, or exploration) would need to pass through Sabaody. It was the proverbial gateway to the rest of the world.
As such, people of every ilk and kind traveled to and made port at Sabaody Archipelago. From the lowly merchant, the adventurous sightseer, to the aspiring pirate looking to make a name for themselves on the toughest seas, anyone and everyone would eventually make a stop on Sabaody Archipelago. Because of this, the island was in a state of perpetual conflict. Pirates and businessmen of more ill-reputed enterprises had created a disharmonized unity on the island. And with Fleet Admiral Akainu's decision to move the Marine headquarters into the New World, the Marines strongest assets had been taken away from the island.
To most, however, Saboady Archipelago was a veritable funhouse of debauchery and pleasure of every kind. Gambling, endless shopping, gluttony of both food and drink, and playthings of every kind. Every kind. Every manner of pleasure was sold, bought, bartered for, and traded; granted, of course, the thrill seeker had the beri to match. Here, beri was the almighty king. Everything, and more importantly anyone, was for sale provided there was enough beri to meet often ludicrous requests.
This is Sabaody Archipelago.
Former Lieutenant Junior Grade Officer Saifer had awoken in an unruly mood for the second time since boarding the Rushing Winds. The bed provided to him was comfortable and the heavy blankets made of the finest cotton, yet the young man was unable to find any rest. Grunting, Isaac sat up in the bed, feeling blindly for his eyepatch that had been set on the bedside drawer. It was the reason he had been unable to sleep. Feeling where his right eye should have been, the storied Marine remembered. The emptiness was still fresh, not even nine months old. The explosion, the stinging pain of metal driving itself into his eye, the sudden numbness. The worst of it was the gut wrenching pain of watching his destroyed eye melt into his bleeding hand. But what he remembered most was the cold; the sharp cold of Ice Nine.
He had spent the last ten years of his life as a Marine patrolling the frigid waters of Ice Nine in the North Blue. Patrolling the high seas against the threat of piracy, conducting routine checks on World Government islands and countries, and generally keeping the peace. He had grown from optimistic teenager into a matured adult on the bleak waters of the North Blue. And on days as today, despite the humid and warm temperatures outside, Isaac could feel the wash of cold as his body remembered the chill of the waters he had long left behind. Even the scar (left graciously by a pirate's cutlass) that ran down from his left shoulder down to his hip ached on a day like today.
Despite the great successes the Marine had in his long career, there was a black mark on his record that he felt he would never be able to erase. Nine months ago, Isaac had been tasked with obtaining information on a Angelina Belmonte, a revolutionary suspected to have been working with the organized Revolutionary Army. What he found out, instead, was that Angelina was more akin to a terrorist. Her tactics were brutal, with no care of who's life was thrown away in her vengeful pursuit of misguided revenge. She was the reason Isaac was missing an eye. But worse yet, she was the reason countless Marines and innocent Ice Nine civilians were dead.
But that was nine months ago and the terrorist disappeared in the midst of the explosions. And though Isaac was now a Marine on sabbatical, he hadn't stopped looking for her. Everywhere he looked, every lead he followed, every tidbit of information turned dry. He felt as if he was chasing shadows. Slim as the chances were, especially considering he was now deep in the New World, Isaac vowed he wouldn't stop searching. It was the only way to end the recurring nightmares and guilt.
Squawk
The harsh cry of a seagull at the window snapped Isaac's mind out his reflection. It was a courier of the Daily Coo, birds which traveled to nearly every island of the world providing newspapers that kept the world united in news and information. Forcing himself out of the bed, Isaac opened the window and traded the newspaper for several beri and immediately turned the paper to the last page; the more obscure islands far out of the reach of the World Government often paid to have their stories told as well. And considering the last month he had spent making enemies on Bupae Island and the friendships formed on the Stronghair Island, Isaac wished to see if either island had news to report. There was, perhaps thankfully, no news to report from either island.
Turning the newspaper back over, a steely look stared back at Isaac; one that all Marines were familiar with. Fleet Admiral Akainu, with a headline that wrote "Fleet Admiral Reassigns Large Number of Marines to New World." The ever present threat of pirates, and ever increasingly violent pirates at that, chasing for the fabled One Piece required the Marines to move more and more of their forces deeper into the New World. Flipping the pages, Isaac mindlessly looked over each story; nothing catching his eye. World economics and stocks bored him. Elections for new governorships and various offices were, in a word, meaningless. One piece of news did catch the young man's eye; Commodore Aoi Mononobe's promotion. The man had been promoted to Captain six months ago and had been promoted again. "Phew," Isaac whistled, "he's climbing the ladder quickly, isn't he?" It was, at the very least, unusual.
Knock, knock, knock. "Lieutenant Saifer, sir. The Commodore is requesting your presence in his office. Sir!
Turning over his left wrist, Isaac checked his plain mechanical watch; it's face on the bottom of his wrist rather than on top as was common. It was an old habit born out of battlefield tactics that he had yet to shake. 0815 hours. Commodore Claude Vanwright, too, would have been awake for several hours at this point. A common trait the two lifelong friends shared. And as the lead officer of the Rushing Winds, the young Commodore had no time to rest. Shifts and junior officers needed to be supervised, communications and movements with other Marine ships along the Hawk Route had to be coordinated, and a whole slew of other duties needed to be accomplished. There was hardly anytime to relax, much less sleep in. And though he was only a passenger on the large vessel, Isaac too would not be expected to just sit around until they reached their destination.
Isaac Saifer - #007299
Caroline Amyot - #f80ee5
Inspector Alec Cameron - #4ab345
Commodore Claude Vanwright - #46e9ff
Angelina Belmonte - #a64bf4
James Hideki - #f60505
Commodore Aoi Mononobe - #1aff00
Noah Berthold - #ff8307