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| - “YOU’RE PIRATES?!” Sid yelped, skidding back and pressing his back against the wall. “YOU’RE A MARINE?!” D’Artagnan cried, skidding back and pressing his back against the opposite wall. “Ciaosusususususu!” Knave laughed, as he was sitting cross-leggedly in the center of the corridor, “Didn’t know that one! Join my crew, blue-haired guy!” “Of course I wouldn’t!” Sid growled, as Knave rubbed the lump that was now rising from his forehead, “I’m a Marine’s son! I can’t just... run off with some pirates!” “Why can’t you?” Knave asked, raising an eyebrow, “I don’t think there’s a law saying you can’t...” “It’s just not done!” Sid snapped back, “Marines don’t become pirates!” “Well, to be fair,” Art spoke up, “a few Marines have-” “Shut up, you!” Sid cried, growling at the blonde Majin. “Make me, punk,” Art returned, growling as well, their faces only inches apart, as though ready to fight, Art unsheathing his knives, Sid lifting up his arm. Before a proper fight could break out, however, a loud THOOM! echoed through the base, and the tunnel shook, causing our three heroes to glance around them. “Sounds like the storm arrived,” Sid said, biting his lip a bit nervously. “Yeah,” Art trailed off. “Ciaosusususu!” Knave guffawed again, “this is gonna be fun~!” The repair men and carpenters worked quickly, replacing the wooden pillar that Mesh had used to take down so many of their comrades, as well as adding new concrete to the foundations, digging through the ground and soil with thick shovels. Rain had finally arrived, and was lashing against the windows and the wall, causing a constant thumpthumpthumpthump noise to permeate the base. Captain Falstaff Cheney sat on top of Mesh’s unconscious form, sipping from a cup of coffee one of his somewhat overzealous men had given him, watching the work go on. Good men, the Captain thought, at least, the ones who are completely loyal. “Sir!” came the voice of yet another Marine private, as he walked up to the Captain, saluting. “At ease,” Falstaff replied, turning to face the other private, “what’s the problem now?” “Gunther reported in, sir. He let in two young men that were asking for a tour, but they ran ahead of him and into the...... the girl’s bath. He’s not sure where they are now.” “They probably ran into Sid,” Falstaff said, taking another long ship, “how did the search of the ship go?” “We found nothing except a massive amount of food, sir, as well as several large black sheets, with either failed or half-finished drawings that seem to have been abandoned. Those were laying in one of the cabins.” “Black sheets with drawings,” the Captain mused, then came to a decision, “looks like we have some wannabe pirates inside our base. Notify the guards, tell them to run a quick search.” “Yes, sir!” “Okay, wear these,” Sid said, holding up two Marine uniforms, both about nearly the same size, with similar markings. “I don’t wanna,” Knave whined, picking his nose imperiously, “why can’t I wear what I’m wearing now?” “Idiot!” Art snapped, as he reached for his uniform, “you heard what they said over the Den Den Mushi a few minutes ago! They know we’re pirates and they know we’re in here. You want to get caught?” “I can just blow ‘em away~...” “And have even MORE marines after our heads?!” D’Artagnan snapped, “we only got here because YOU didn’t tell us the storm was coming!” “You know I’m not-” “Both of you, shut it!” Sid yelled, his annoyance clear, “and just put the damn uniforms on! They’re not going to eat you!” “How would you know?” Knave asked, “the sea’s a mysterious place. Clothes that eat you are possible.” “Just put on the damn uniform.” “See, it’s not so bad!” Sid said brightly, as Knave fidgeted and pulled at his scarf (which he had insisted he keep on, despite the rest of his clothes changing). “I dunno...” Knave said, “it doesn’t feel as.... adventure....-y.... as my old clothes.” “We won’t be wearing them long,” Art said, tugging the standard Marine cap down over his eyes, “we’re just using these to avoid getting spotted and then getting out of the base once the storm passes.” “Hey, you!” came the cry of a Marine from down the corridor. The three quickly whipped around, dropping a quick salute (which Knave did horribly wrong). The Marine stormed towards them, clearly angry. “You didn’t hear the Captain’s order?” he barked, pointing his finger back down the corridor, “go help with the repairs! And Sid, the Captain’s looking for you!” “But-” Knave began, before Sid swiftly clapped his hand over the marimo pirate’s mouth. “We’ll be right there,” the blue-haired Marine said quickly, then walked past the Marine and head down the corridor, dragging Art and Knave with him. “Where are we going?” Knave asked. “To the main hall,” Sid answered, “and work on your salute.” Vital walked calmly into the mess hall, his prosthetic arm squeaking with every small movement he made with it. He glanced around at the rows of empty benches and tables, the small slot where food was released closed as well. He strode over to the door leading to the kitchen, gently pressing his hand against it. With a push from his arm, the door flew open, and the Marine was able to walk freely inside. He strode over to a small cupboard, then, using his normal hand, opened it and scanned the contents. He quickly selected several choice cleaning materials and, tucking them under his arm, moved over to a small set of pans, and placed one on the stove, quickly lighting a fire beneath the pan. He then lifted up the chemicals and poured them into the pan, as they immediately began to sizzle and carbonate, before he walked towards the door once again, a bit more slowly than before. Right as his hand reached for the doorknob, the chemicals in the frying pan erupted, an explosion blasting Vital through the door and causing the walls to crack. The Marine skidded on the ground, almost flying across the whole cafeteria, before finally stopping. Quiet filled the hall as the flames burned and cackled behind him. “Ah, crap,” Vital muttered, pulling himself to his feet and glancing back at the carnage, “I’m gonna get caught for this, aren’t I?” “What the hell was that?!” the Captain asked, glancing around rapidly as the sound of an explosion filled the base. “You there!” he said, pointing at a green-haired marine with black eyes and a white scarf on his shoulders, who was trying and largely failing to hammer a piece of wood onto one of the windows. The marine jumped, quickly facing the Captain, his eyes bouncing around like crazy. “Y-y-y-y-y-yes sir?” he asked, his voice squeaking out of pure nervousness, buckets of sweat pouring down his face. Falstaff stared skeptically at the young soldier. “Just... go check out that explosion. Now! "Got it, sir!" Knave cried, before turning and rushing down the corridor, "on it, sir!" "And make sure you don't get yourself killed," the command officer grumbled, his voice slightly softer, "I don't like the way things are suddenly going here, and I need every able-bodied soldier I can get." Knave paused, the words sinking in, before grinning and resuming his run. "Gotcha! You're a lot nicer than I first thought, ossan!" “Ossa-?” the Captain began asking, but the young Marine had dashed out of sight, down the corridor. “This is bad,” D’Artagnan whispered to Sid as they lifted up another large wooden board, placing it behind one of the many large windows, “we lost Knave.” “Aw, relax,” Sid whispered back, “all he has to do is go see if anyone was killed or something like that. What could go wrong?” Art fixed Sid with a very knowing glance. “Trust me. He’ll find a way.” “Explosion, explosion~,” Knave, in marine uniform, sang as he skipped down the corridor to the cafeteria, “gonna go see an explosion~!” He rounded the corner, facing a large door marked ‘CAFETERIA’. Knave stared at it for several seconds, as though deep thoughts were racing around in his head. “Hmm,” the marimo boy said, leaning back against one of the wall, stroking his chin. “I think this is the cafeteria!” Knave finally said, grinning hugely, “so that means.... food!” His eyes assumed the likeness of stars once more, as he quickly threw open the door and charged inside. Vital groaned, still pulling himself towards the door. Only a few more inches, he kept reassuring himself, and if no one comes in that time you’ll be fine, no one will have spotted you. No one will connect the dots- At that moment, the door slammed open, smashing Vital’s normal hand to the side, spraining his wrist. The Marine let out a howl of pain, as the green-haired boy above him in a similar uniform looked down, eyes widening in shock as he took in the explosion. Knave looked around the cafeteria, at the flames burning from the kitchen... and smelled the smell of burning food, one which would have been repulsive to an ordinary person. But to Knave, food was food, and food was delicious, no matter what state it was in. “Well, looks like I found the explosion AND food!” the marimo brat said happily, brightening up, “it’s my lucky day! And it’s not even March!” “H-hey,” Vital gasped, as a large welt quickly formed on his good hand, “d-don’t ignore-” He was stopped as the other “Marine” quickly began speaking. Something about food. The details didn’t fully register to Vital, as he felt rage welling up within him. Rage that was released when the marimo “Marine” started skipping towards the burning kitchen, singing happily. His prosthetic arm slamming into the ground, Vital heaved himself up, yelling loudly, “NO ONE IGNORES ME!” “NO ONE IGNORES ME!” “Eh?” Knave asked, turning around right as Vital’s fist plowed into his fist. With a hiss of gears, the arm released a small air shockwave, knocking Knave back and sending him crashing into one of the burning tables. Rolling off, Knave whiped some blood from his mouth. “What was that for?” the lad asked, raising his eyebrow, “it’s not like I attacked you or anythin- WAH!” For at that instant, Vital had lunged forward again, his prosthetic arm now crashing into the burning table where Knave had just been a few seconds before, had he not leaped into the air to avoid the attack. Twisting around and facing his opponent’s back in midair, Knave extended his hands, as the palms began to glow with the white energy. “Naga Naga no Rapid Fire!” he cried, as thousands of small blasts of the energy flew off his palms, heading straight for the Marine’s back. Vital whipped around, swinging his prosthetic arm, deflecting the attacks and causing them to collide with a nearby wall, causing a series of small dust clouds to form. Meanwhile, Knave had landed on the ground, and, skidding a bit, launched himself forward, the white energy wrapping around his fist. “Naga Naga no Heat Canon!” the young pirate cried, as his fist closed in on Vital’s face, who simply raised his arm to block it. As Knave’s fist made contact, the energy suddenly dissolved, and he felt weakness wash through his body. “Wah-?” Knave asked as he slumped to the ground. Vital chuckled, grabbing Knave by the color. “So you’re a Devil Fruit user, eh? No wonder my arm weakened you. It’s made of seastone, so it sucks the energy out of people like you!” “S-saltstone?” Knave grumbled, as Vital dragged him. “No!” Vital growled, slamming Knave’s face against the wall, “SEAstone!” Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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