Inside the conference room of New Navy Branch 127, the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Duncan stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Bell-mère. She'd pulled herself together, but they were both staring down a cold-blooded executioner from CP9.
Buru buru… buru buru…
The sudden ringing of a Den Den Mushi made everyone jump.
Steele, looking almost bored, reached into his chest pocket and pulled out the snail.
"Steele. How's it going over there?" an elegant baritone voice asked.
A faint, unreadable smile touched Steele's lips. "Wakley. I'm close to the truth, but I've hit a snag. The person with the intel is one of these New Navy types."
He glanced at Bell-mère. "I'm at their branch right now, but they're refusing to cooperate. I'm certain she's hiding something."
The voice on the other end sounded amused. "New Navy? Hahaha! Don't tell me you can't handle one little marine from the East Blue."
Hearing that mocking laugh, Steele's eyes narrowed. "Of course I can take her. The problem is, her branch chief and all his soldiers are blocking me. You know the rules. We serve the World Government, but we can't just attack a New Navy branch full of their own men."
The snail's face grew thoughtful. "Fine. I'll contact the head of the East Blue New Navy and get him to order their cooperation. But Steele, listen close—if you still can't finish the mission, you'll be explaining your failure to the Five Elders yourself."
Click. The call ended.
Steele, having gotten what he wanted, casually sat on a nearby stool and closed his eyes, as if daring the armed soldiers surrounding him to try something.
Duncan's face darkened. He shot Bell-mère a sharp look, then whispered, "Bell-mère, that call... they're going over our heads. Their influence runs deep. We have to buy you time."
"Get out of the base. Now," he urged. "Find somewhere safe to hide, and don't come back until this blows over."
Bell-mère knew he was right. She also knew that even CP9 wouldn't risk slaughtering an entire base of marines. To protect Raleigh, she had to run.
She spared one last glance at the meditating Steele, then began to silently edge toward the door. Duncan's large frame easily hid her retreat.
Her fingers had just brushed the door handle when a cold voice echoed in the room.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Steele's eyes were still closed.
"Step outside that door, and you're no longer a marine 'cooperating with an investigation.' You're a deserter. And I can use any means necessary against a deserter."
Steele's words hit her like a physical blow. Her foot froze in mid-air.
Deserter.
The word felt disgusting. Bell-mère was supposed to be a Branch Chief one day. In all her years, she'd imagined dying in battle or retiring from injury, but never, ever this. This label would ruin everything.
Seeing her freeze, Duncan growled, "Don't listen to his garbage, Bell-mère. Just go! We're the New Navy. We don't bow to cheap threats."
Bell-mère's hand clenched the doorframe so hard her knuckles turned white.
Tap-tap... tap-tap-tap...
Heavy boots echoed down the hall. A young messenger, clueless about the standoff, burst in.
"Reporting to the Branch Chief! A direct command from the Vice Admiral!"
Steele's eyes snapped open. He smiled, a genuine, triumphant smile, right at Duncan.
The color drained from Duncan's face. Less than ten minutes. This CP9 agent had a direct line to the Vice Admiral. How long until the Admiral himself called?
Duncan was a man of action. He made his choice.
He shoved Bell-mère hard through the doorway. "GO!"
Then he roared at his men, "Burnill! Gag him! Don't let him read that order!"
In the same motion, Duncan launched himself at Steele, trying to tackle him.
"Heh." Steele didn't even flinch. "A Branch Chief in the East Blue who ignores both the World Government and his superiors. How... amusing."
"But you? Stop me?"
In the blink of an eye, Steele vanished.
Duncan's desperate lunge hit nothing but air.
"Iron Body!" Duncan bellowed, hardening his muscles just as Steele reappeared right in front of him.
"Shigan."
The sound was a dull, wet thud.
Then, silence.
Drip... drip...
Steele coldly pulled his finger back from Duncan's chest and wiped it on a clean white handkerchief.
A perfect, coin-sized hole had been punched straight through Duncan's Tekkai. Blood spilled from the wound, staining his white undershirt crimson. Duncan's face went pale, and he staggered, clutching his chest.
"I was holding back because I didn't want the paperwork," Steele sneered. "Did you actually think I was afraid of you?"
He glanced at the other soldiers, who were frozen in shock. Honestly, this whole base was just an annoyance. If it weren't for the political fallout, he'd have just killed them all and taken the woman from the start.
Duncan gritted his teeth, tearing a strip from his uniform to hastily bind the wound. The bleeding barely slowed.
Without another word, he exploded into motion.
"Soru!"
"Soru."
Both men used the same high-speed technique, but in completely different ways.
Duncan's was a 'Bull Rush'—a blunt-force charge meant to shatter bone and overwhelm with raw power.
Steele's was the movement of an assassin.
BOOM!
Duncan, unable to stop, crashed straight through the conference room wall as Steele sidestepped him at the last second. He stumbled into the dust-filled hallway, having lost sight of his target completely.