"Sir, the Leviathan signals for maneuvering to port side," Lieutenant Pryde reported.
"Approved." I replied without hesitation
The massive Marine battleship crashed against the waves, its hull cutting through the sea like a stone thrown into glass. To our starboard side, Ichimaru's ship, the Leviathan, sailed in parallel, while Smoker's smaller cruiser trailed closely behind in the safety of our rear. This was standard naval fleet formation, it was the Marines bread and butter. Plus our vessels towered over Smoker's ship, which made it the most vulnerable.
While Smoker's cruiser was a standard Marine model, the Custodian and the Leviathan were the mainstays of the Grand Line the same class used during a Buster Call. Reaching sixty meters in length, these ships were larger than an average giant, reserved for Commodores, Admirals, and specialized officers deemed worthy by the higher-ups. Costly as shit to maintain as well.
"Lieutenant," I called before he moved away. "Did you send the message to the Iron Oaks listening outpost?"
"Yes, sir. They've confirmed movements of Baroque Works agents near Whiskey Peak, they've intercepted a few calls but they had experienced a bit of interference, it appears the enemy might be using signal blockers, but they're trying to push through it. Though, if I may ask... why are we heading to Iron Oaks first instead of directly to Alabasta?"
"Did you read the oversight report, I had sent filed for all CO's yesterday?" I asked him.
"A strange question sir , you know I did." He raised a brow.
"Then you should've cross referenced the information to see that the scum would plan to harass the base once they'd realize were peering our attentions more towards them and peering into their communications , so they'll not want that. Their leaders wont"
Pryde gave a nodding expression, getting the point of my statements.
"Plus its location do it no justice it would've happened eventually either by the rebels or that wayward bounty hunter group, Iron Oaks lies not too far away from Alabasta and plays a key role in our intelligence gathering ability."
"I understand sir. " He said to me.
To be honest I was halfway bull shiting, and even in the reports I left certain points out, Pryde couldn't cross reference anything because there wasn't anything to cross reference. It was through meta knowledge of events I knew would happen that I knew the out come of the iron oaks base. If not, then I wouldn't have gone that away and the good Marines of that base would be killed.
"I hope we can secure some prisoners if I do prove to be correct, ," I added. "Our intel as I mentioned on Baroque Works is still limited based on what was provided from HQ and regional intelligence, though no matter the resources on hand. we need to understand their hierarchy, their leadership, and their true scope of operations." I lectured as if I hadn't knew it all already.
"Most definitely rear Admiral, some of our best are already dissecting the information, and of no doubt we'll have something substantial soon in theory to move off on." Pryde says with flat optimism.
"Very good, lieutenant, please also tell our good Dr Hill to ready himself for any new prisoners we might come across . He's been restless lately."
The implication was clear: our ship's surgeon was in need of "test subjects." Dr Hill had come to me recently about the fact that he's out of fresh bodies for this new drug he'd made, some type of virus killing antidote.
"At once, sir," Pryde said, saluting sharply before turning on his heel.
"Someone's enthusiastic, aren't they?" Bradley mused with little fanfare, watching Pryde walk past him. He moved to stand beside me as the sun began to set, casting a bloody orange glow over the water.
"He's doing his duty, as we all are ," I said. "The enemy we are to face isn't a threat in terms of physical or martial strength, at least not to us. Their power lies in subterfuge: deception, bounty hunting, smuggling, and blackmail. The most time consuming things to unravel."
"I never heard of baroque works before, its quite surprising how far their reach is and the power they hold," Bradley admitted easily.
"No surprise there, they aren't the only bounty hunter association to be that large and dabble in conspiracies. Hundreds of them lie out there in the open seas so this one isn't any way special. " I conversed with my friend.
"And once we uncover their goals, nothing will stop us from dismantling their dysfunctional group," Bradley agreed. He let out a rare, small smile. "Times like these, I wonder if I should've taken my vacation."
'Exactly'
"Don't we all, my friend? A few weeks off would have meant much. The scent of blood gets to you after a while. The sight of treachery and lies... it takes its toll on the mind."
"Everything does after a while," Bradley replied.
"But we are the shields that guard the realms of men," I added, paraphrasing the Night's Watch oath. "Our duties are infinite, yet we cannot relinquish our guard for even a second."
I looked forward to what was coming. Joining the events I had once watched on a screen was a surreal experience. I wondered idly if I should have positioned myself to marry Vivi; it would solidify my political role and make me a noble, which would be excellent for my career. She was a beautiful woman, though, in truth, I preferred someone closer to my own age—someone like Nico Robin. But I saved that thought for later.
......
Two Days Later
"Sir!" Enric Pryde shouted, running toward me with urgency. He saluted, his breath coming in quick bursts. "The listening base is under attack! The assailants are unknown. Despite our warning, the enemy has proven too much for the garrison. They're calling for immediate reinforcements!"
"How far out are we?" I asked, my voice dropping into a combat-ready calm.
"Several miles, sir. We should arrive in two hours, but I fear we may not make it in time unless—"
"I'll go on ahead, Bradley." I called to my second, who sat in the adjacent chair.
"I'll look after things here," The mustached man said in his usual flat tone.
I stood from my seat, pushing the chair back. The cabin was spacious, everything on this ship was larger than what you would see of a regular ship in the normal world, but it felt small now as the adrenaline began to kick in. I made my way to the cloak rack, pulling on my black coat first before draping my white Marine mantle over my shoulders. I strapped my sword belt to my waist, the hilts of Ameyuri and Shinso ready for their debut.
I left Bradley to his glass of scotch and soda on the rocks. We rarely drank on the job, and never in front of the lower-ranked crew, but Pryde was a Commissioned officer, so he was not counted as that.
I made my way to the bow of the ship with Pryde at my coattails. He always had a habit of watching when I took to the skies. I stepped onto the railing, looking out over the endless blue. Then, I took a step forward into the empty air.
Using Geppo, the supernatural "Moonwalk" technique of the Rokushiki, I began to walk on the atmosphere itself. My physical capabilities and mastery of all three types of Haki made the technique feel as natural as breathing. I didn't say a word. I simply kicked off the air, a series of superhuman cracks echoing behind me as I propelled myself toward the horizon.
I was an outlier in this world, a man who didn't belong, but as I crossed the miles in minutes, I knew one thing: any "trash" that dared attack a Navy asset was about to meet the Black Wolf.
That sounded a bit cringy, damn it! The world was already imprinting its influence on me.
......
Iron Oaks Listening Outpost
"Keep firing! Reinforcements are on the way! We mustn't lose hope!" the base commander roared, emptying his sidearm at the intruders until the gun clicked empty.
His bullets did nothing. The primary assailant moved through the courtyard like a ghost, cutting down Marines with the unscrupulous efficiency of a nightmare. Beside him, a woman in a baseball glove operated with a sickening, comedic flair. She killed with "balls" thrown at unnatural speeds that always rebounded to her hand. It was a circus-like affair—madness incarnate. How could anyone explain a bizarrely dressed swordsman and a woman who moved with unnatural speeds that defied her slightly obese weight?
As the woman cackled, taking a pitcher's stance to throw again, the world turned upside down. Her gaze drifted, becoming slanted. She saw her own body, and it was… headless. Blood sprayed from her neck, drowning the gravel in red before her torso crashed and twitched with a heavy thud.
Behind her stood a man in a white coat. The word JUSTICE flared in bold, calligraphic ink, and the golden epaulets on his shoulders outshone anything the local commander wore.
(Gotta aura farm, check the fit)
"Rear Admiral! Shōshō!" the surviving Marines cheered, their despair turning into a roar of hope.
Mr. 11, who had been seconds away from another kill, found his path blocked by a different blade. Ameyuri sang as it met his steel. The cursed sword was as great as Toji expected; it hungered for more, more blood, more pain. Toji felt the dark tug of the weapon at the edge of his instints and immediately quelled it. A swordsman who couldn't master his own blade was unworthy of it, and Toji was never man to be unworthy.
Mr. 11 snarled, his arrogance blinding him to the chasm in power between them. "A Rear Admiral? I didn't think the Marines kept anyone competent this far out of nowhere. No matter. Your rank just makes your head a more valuable trophy!" He uttered in a tone that reminded him of a rather talkative serial rapist than anything else.
He didn't answer. He simply adjusted his grip. He felt the familiar, dark pulse of blood lust brewing and forced it back into a locked room in his mind. How quickly he'd adapted from a civilian to a killer over the years, he thought. They say power doesn't corrupt, but it certainly clarified that anyone could be changed.
"You talk too much," He now spoke, his voice terrifyingly calm amidst the chaotic base.
He moved then, not with the frantic actions of the soldiers, but with the predatory grace of a panther. He was a flicker of white and black. Mr. 11 barely parried a strike that would have cloven him from shoulder to hip. The sound of clashing metal rang out like a death knell, sending sounds flying into the midday heat.
Mr. 11 was fast, a seasoned killer, but Toji was a different breed. Every time the agent thought he had found an opening, Toji wasn't there. He was a ghost in a white coat. Toji spun, the hem of his mantle fluttering, and delivered a flurry of stabs. Ameyuri moved like lightning, its tip a silver needle stitching a pattern of red across Mr. 11's chest. The rear Admiral was toying with him like a hyena with its prey, he always had a twisted sense of humor where he made opponents think they could hold out against him, before crushing that thought and filling them with despair.
The agent cried out, swinging wildly in a desperate arc. Toji didn't even parry; he leaned back, the blade whistling mere millimeters from his throat, before stepped inside the man's guard. A heavy elbow smashed into Mr. 11's solar plexus, followed by a pommel strike to the bridge of his nose.
Bone cracked then and there.
Mr. 11 staggered back, his vision swimming. He looked around frantically for his partner, only to see her headless corpse twitching in the dirt. Panic, cold and sharp, finally overrode his arrogance.
"Wait!" Mr. 11 gasped, stumbling over a fallen Marine. "We can negotiate! Baroque Works has resources! Gold, information—"
"Now you wish to allow calmer heads o prevail," Toji interrupted with a sinister smirk tugging at his lips, his shadow lengthening over the cowering man. "But I think the time for negotiations have long passed the moment you killed one of our own, so at this point , you will do as we bid, or you will die painfully. Not much of a choice but you'll have to satisfy."
Toji raised Ameyuri high. The blade seemed to glow, drawing in the dim light of the surrounding light.
"Please! I was just following orders! My employer, he'll kill me if I fail!"
'Is this guy serious! You already failed you twat. Plus I'm gonna kill you if you didn't answer our questions.' I said to no one.
"Lay down your weapon and kneel", He beckoned the bounty hunter.
Mr 11 did as he was asked crudely throwing the weapon aside. It was a shock to how he was so compliant now, from a rabid dog to being as timid as a mouse now that the feeling of death was so close.
Around him, the remaining agents, seeing their leaders fall so effortlessly, broke apart, their coordination dwindling as they tucked tails to flee. They dropped their weapons and fled through exits and back to the coast whence they came, pursued by the reinvigorated Marines.
"Secure the perimeter!" Toji commanded, his voice ringing out over the dying embers. "Tend to the wounded. I want a full report on the casualties before my ships arrive."
"Yes, Shōshō!" the Marine commander replied as he drew near to his superior still amazed at how the enemy that was giving them hell was so easily defeated.
Toji sheathed Ameyuri with a sharp clack. He looked up at the sun, which was finally peeking through the smoke. It as a step closer now Mr 11 was caught Ms, whoever she was is dead and a many of the other fleeing henchmen would be caught or killed. There was no doubt in his mind he'd be able to pull some finer details from their minds under threat or torture.
Far off on the horizon, the massive silhouettes of the Custodian and the Leviathan finally broke through the line of distsnce, their cannons swiveling toward the shore like the eyes of ancient, vengeful gods.
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