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| - Art groaned, his eyes slowly opening. He was lying on something very fluffy and comfortable, and there was a lamp above him, sending gentle rays of light down on him. He attempting to lift his arm up, to shield his eyes. But his arm wouldn’t move. Turning his head to the other side, he saw his two crewmates. Sid sat nearest to him, and had a small mask covering his mouth, pumping air in. His leg was wrapped in a cast, and the rest of his body were covered in similar bandages. Damn, the Majin thought, his eyelids beginning to shut again, we really got trashed, didn’t we?
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| - Art groaned, his eyes slowly opening. He was lying on something very fluffy and comfortable, and there was a lamp above him, sending gentle rays of light down on him. He attempting to lift his arm up, to shield his eyes. But his arm wouldn’t move. The Majin stretched his neck a bit, looking around. Everything became clear. He was sitting in what appeared to be a small clinic, with thin wooden walls and small windows that were a tad foggy. Lamps like the one above him lined the ceiling, and he was sitting in the far left. He had been laid on a pure white and surprisingly comfy bed, and his body was covered in bandages. His arm was restrained via IV drip. Turning his head to the other side, he saw his two crewmates. Sid sat nearest to him, and had a small mask covering his mouth, pumping air in. His leg was wrapped in a cast, and the rest of his body were covered in similar bandages. At the other end of the room lay Knave, who had most of his chest covered in at least two layers of bandages. Even his head wasn’t spared, with several wrapped around his skull, covering his right eye. He also wore a small neck cast. Damn, the Majin thought, his eyelids beginning to shut again, we really got trashed, didn’t we? And with that, he suddenly fell back into sleep. On a small island a short ways away from Water 7, a group of Marines gathered to investigate a body, which had once been called Vice Admiral Johannes. The former Marine was lying against the wall of a cafe, evidently having been slain in broad daylight. What was left of his body wasn’t much to look at. It was a mess, a sack of meat and blood that just lay there, baking in the sun. “Damn,” one of the Marines said, pushing his cap up and wrinkling his nose, “what the hell happened?” “Don’t think we’ll ever find out,” another replied, standing up and shrugging, “whatever killed him left no traces behind. Not one.” “That’s impossible!” their commanding officer growled, “stop joking around, Marine!” “I’m not, sir!” the second Marine said frantically, “there’s no signs of anything abnormal! I have no idea what happened!” “Hmmmm....” the CO pondered, rubbing his chin, “this is the third death this month?” “Yes sir,” the first Marine confirmed. “Then get me a Den Den Mushi,” the CO said, standing up, “we need to alert the higher ups." A young man sat on a small rowboat floating in the middle of the ocean. If this wasn’t an odd enough occurence, the young man’s appearance would have confused an onlooker further. He had pale, almost white/gray skin, and long purple hair that spiked out. He tied a small bit behind him in a ponytail. There were also flecks of white and lighter purple mixed in. He had blood red eyes, and he had a very thin and lanky form. He wore a simple white tank top and white, roughed up jeans. He wore no shoes. He raised his hand up at the sky, then clenched it. Darkness began pulling itself from seemingly nowhere, collecting in the center of his tightened palm... Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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