Some time after the rare alarm blared through Navarone Fortress, Vice Admiral Jonathan's office hosted two officers locked in a heated argument. Jonathan, eyes closed, sat silently, visibly weary.
Major Drake, wearing a hat, was rigidly serious. Lieutenant Commander Shepard, lanky and sharp-tongued, had a poor work attitude. Both were seasoned under Jonathan, indispensable to the base's defense, their skills and experience undeniable.
But they weren't flawless. Drake's excessive seriousness clashed with Shepard's flippant demeanor. Their discord was notorious, arguments escalating as neither yielded, each driven by uncompromised principles. This was routine, and Jonathan seemed tired of intervening.
The two faced off, their dispute ongoing, sparked by the escape of pirates. Now it was a matter of responsibility, voices harsh.
"How did pirates escape, Shepard? The first-floor cells were your jurisdiction! Weren't your men watching them?" Drake demanded.
"It was a shift change! And your reckless recruitment of rookies caused this mess. Too many men to coordinate—newbies unaccustomed to the job!" Shepard shot back.
"You're there to manage that chaos!"
"Too many people! I'm swamped giving orders!"
"Enough, this blame game's pathetic," Jonathan interjected with a heavy sigh, halting their bickering.
Drake turned on Jonathan, leaning forward. "This isn't time for calm, Vice Admiral! We must recapture them immediately! With voices calling this base redundant, this failure—"
"I know. Calm down. You're too loud," Jonathan replied, his tone listless, almost unmotivated—a usual trait.
Drake's frustration boiled, face red, but Jonathan, unfazed, scratched his head and spoke casually. "Paper user and Clown Buggy, right? Caused a stir in Rogue Town."
"Yes. They failed to capture their crew, so only those two were on the first floor. But when noticed, only handcuffs remained…" Drake reported.
"Still not found?" Jonathan asked.
"We're searching, but no sightings," Shepard replied.
"Hiding well in enemy territory. Quite skilled," Jonathan mused.
"This isn't time to admire—" Drake began.
"Calm down. Clear heads make better decisions," Jonathan said, leaning forward, taking charge.
Drake regained composure reflexively; Shepard snorted.
"If they haven't escaped the island, we find them fast. Delay's bad. Let's move," Jonathan ordered. "Their goal's likely escape, so they'll seek a way off. Drake, reinforce port security. Shepard, guard the underground cells."
"The cells? Why there?" Shepard asked.
"With that many pirates, a mass breakout would be trouble," Jonathan explained.
"Sure, but are they that clever?" Shepard scoffed, underestimating the escapees, whose bounties didn't exceed fifty million, hardly a threat in his eyes.
Jonathan sighed, seeing the root of the escape.
Navarone was complacent. Many marines lacked combat experience, with few pirate encounters despite drills. This incident exposed their laxity.
What did the enemy know? That gnawed at Jonathan.
If they were sharp, aware of the base's state, a bold frontal assault—normally foolish—might work here. Only Jonathan, Drake, and Shepard could stop them with skill.
Jonathan hadn't expected to feel anxious in his own fortress. Though outwardly relaxed, he felt it. He craved intel on these foes, secretly intrigued.
"No harm in vigilance," he said, unlike Shepard's arrogance. "Find their location fast. Arm yourselves, shoot on sight, but capture alive. Tell your men."
"Yes, sir!" Drake saluted.
"I'd execute them," Shepard muttered.
"They deserve some rights," Jonathan smiled.
Shepard shook his head; Drake nearly argued again but was stopped.
These three propped up Navarone: Jonathan, overly lax; Drake, excessively serious; Shepard, flippant but capable. Their differing justices had kept Navarone impregnable. This time would likely be no different.
Drake saluted and turned to leave. Shepard followed, saluting formally. Jonathan stood naturally.
"I'll move too. Handle your posts," he said.
"You're moving, Vice Admiral? They're not that dangerous," Shepard said.
"Don't say that. I've got things to do," Jonathan replied, smiling, passing the stunned pair and stepping into the corridor first.
In standard uniform, sleeves rolled, a thin sword at his waist, he walked lightly, ignoring Drake's puzzled voice, lost in thought.
The escapees preoccupied him. Though experienced in capturing pirates, an escape was new, especially during an auditor's investigation. The timing felt too perfect, but he shook off suspicions of internal betrayal. Capturing the two was priority.
Their bounties weren't high, yet they were notable. Gathering intel first, then planning, was wise. His grin reflected that decision.
Walking alone, he saw a marine pushing a cleaning cart. In the chaotic, post-alarm base, the marine wore a neat uniform, hat low, unarmed—shockingly lax. Jonathan stopped him.
A short, slim youth raised his head at Jonathan's voice, saluting upon recognition.
"Good work," the youth said.
"Cleaning now? It's an emergency. Join the search for the escaped pirates," Jonathan ordered.
"Was going to, but a senior told me to finish this first," the youth replied, saluting.
Jonathan gestured to stop, studying him. Young, almost childish—rare for the base. His voice, lack of tension, and amateurish demeanor suggested a rookie.
Navarone had new recruits recently. Their inexperience explained the laxity. Jonathan smiled wryly.
"New recruit?" he asked.
"Yes. Still learning the base's layout," the youth admitted.
"Haha, no surprise. Navarone's built against pirates—strong outside, inescapable inside. Tough to learn, but try," Jonathan encouraged.
"A map would help," the youth said.
"Thought about it, but if pirates got one, our defenses would be ruined. So, none exist here. Seems that's paying off now."
"I see."
"Truth is, making one's too hard. This place is a maze."
"That's the real reason?"
"Haha, sometimes," Jonathan laughed, oddly cheerful, baffling the youth, who shrugged and asked, "Where do I take this?"
"First floor. Someone there'll guide you. But it's an emergency—join a unit and secure the area after."
"Understood."
Saluting, the youth moved to push the cart. On the top floor, reaching the first floor would take time, so his haste made sense. But Jonathan, stroking his beard, stopped him.
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"How'd you escape the cell, paper user?"
Instantly, both moved. Jonathan drew his sword at blinding speed, slicing the air. The youth kicked back, dodging, but the strike clipped his hat's brim.
Landing smoothly, the youth discarded the hat, revealing Kiri's face, grinning as he met Jonathan's gaze.
Distance formed. Jonathan pointed his sword; Kiri pulled the cart closer, facing off.
When was he spotted? Kiri thought he'd blended in, but an officer wasn't so easily fooled. His bold move backfired, and he sighed.
"Caught, huh? Thought I was doing well," Kiri said.
"Haha, you did. But I've been around. Can't let a pirate's disguise fool me," Jonathan replied.
"Strange. Got this far unnoticed. Oh well, no use complaining."
Kiri raised his arm, scattering cleaning tools. A mass of paper erupted from the cart, flapping loudly, blocking vision, moving as if alive, filling the space between them.
Jonathan lost sight of Kiri momentarily but held his sword ready, refusing to let him escape.
"So, this is the paper user's power. Quite a trick—" Jonathan began.
"Command Paper Dance: Flower!" Kiri shouted.
A massive paper clump, petal-shaped, charged Jonathan. Not cutting or striking, but a ramming attack, doubling as a vision block. Its speed demanded action—dodge or counter.
Jonathan's blade sliced through the paper petals effortlessly, cutting two, then three, staying put as his view cleared.
Shock hit. With the paper gone, a spinning cylindrical object flew at him—dynamite, fuse nearly spent, racing toward him.
Beyond, Kiri rode the cart, pushed by a paper wolf, grinning gleefully in that fleeting moment.
Jonathan chuckled, leaping back. An explosion roared, flames and heat surging through the corridor.
Propelled by the blast, Kiri sped away, feet on the cart, paper wolf pushing. The cart's wheels screeched, but stopping wasn't an option.
In a marine uniform, Kiri barreled down the hall, an absurd sight impossible to miss.
A marine appeared at a corner, spotting Kiri and recoiling in shock. Kiri, unfazed, charged on, pulling a hidden pistol from the cart's base, aiming as they closed in.
"Hey, cleaning crew! Move aside!" Kiri called.
"What's that!? Enemy or ally!?" the marine stammered, frozen.
Kiri fired. The bullet struck the marine's side, blood spraying. A sharp cry followed as his knees buckled, staggering despite the enemy. As Kiri passed, he swung the pistol's grip, striking the marine's temple, knocking him down.
The attack was swift, merciless. The marine, fading, stared at Kiri's retreating back.
"Damn… pirate… Must report…" he gasped, desperate to alert someone, glaring after Kiri.
Then, a base-wide Den Den Mushi broadcast began. Relief hit—he thought someone was reporting. But an unfamiliar voice spoke.
"Testing, testing. Report: Escaped pirate spotted on first floor, west corridor, heading outside! Everyone, grab weapons and head out now!"
"First floor, west? What… This is fourth floor, north," the marine muttered, confusion twisting his face.
Wasn't this about Kiri? The broadcast came from the third floor, but he couldn't question it, passing out.
"Who… was that voice…?"
"Hurry, people! This is a dangerous criminal! One or two won't cut it! Surround and capture him!"
On the third floor, Buggy, in a marine uniform, set down the Den Den Mushi, grinning after his report.
No enemy sighted—just a fabricated lie to sow chaos. Smirking at his success, he planned the next move.
"Going smoothly. Time for the next step," he said.
The fourth-floor explosion had spurred him. In the room, an unconscious marine lay, no eyes watching. Buggy had time to think calmly, no need to rush.
He pulled out a mini Den Den Mushi, contacting the underground pirates.
"Sorry for the wait, you lot! The fight's on! Time to seize freedom!" Buggy declared.
"We've been waiting, Captain Buggy!" came the reply.
"Let's roll! Free everyone in the cells and head to the port! Steal a warship and get outta here! Go wild!"
"YEAAAAH!!"
The pirates' roars echoed. Their momentum could overwhelm even veterans. Buggy was certain of victory, now planning to escape with these pawns, not just use them.
(Heh, fools. Don't know how far you'll get, but if you nab a warship, I'll ride along. If not, I'm out solo.)
Cutting the call, Buggy chuckled wickedly, fearless, leaning back in his chair.
"Now, just find that vault and grab the gold. Hope Kiri can find it. Came this far—need a souvenir. Worst case, ditch him and run," he muttered to no one, grin widening.
He didn't trust Kiri. An escape ally, sure, but Luffy's right-hand man, tied to his grudge. If Kiri fell, it'd be revenge against Luffy. The thought amused him.
Save or abandon? Kiri's performance would decide. Buggy was ready either way.
Standing, he slipped into the corridor, moving cautiously.
--+--
T/N: Although I'm an inexperienced Editor, I do have a Patreon account! Although it seems like I don't have many supporters right now, my webnovel will be released in full every day, and the advanced chapters will be uploaded to Patreon.
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