[Episode] Black Widow

Quest Request:

Ruby was a lady of the night, but this morning she sat and looked down on the slums of Spider Miles from her tenement window. Drawing a long drag of smoke from her cigarette, she hacked out a cloud of smoke and did her part to add to the city’s smog. She’d always felt safest in her home, out on the streets she was like prey in a city full of predators, lately she’d taken to carrying a knife; hell, she’d done more than carry it…

… she’d killed her “employer” about a week ago, but; as she’d learned in the local papers, she wasn’t the only killer on the loose. She could care less about the details of the story, some fellow going after the island’s upper crust; what she did find herself troubled by was the growing ranks of law enforcement patrolling the streets.

She drummed her fingers nervously along the hardwood of her table, as the sound of rushing steam began leaking from her kettle she heard a knock at the door. Nervously she slowly made her way down to answer. Peering out her peephole before opening up, she half expected to see a police officer, but what she saw was a bit more puzzling: a man she’d never seen before; his hair was like a dark messy mop, and he looked a bit disheveled altogether.

The prostitute chained her door before cracking it open and speaking to the man, “Ehm, hello sir. Can I help you?”

“Please, just let me inside. I can explain later,” the man answered back with a sense of urgency in his deep gravelly voice.

Apprehensively, Ruby complied, and with this the man made his way quickly into her living room before taking a seat. Her kettle had come to a boil, and seemed as though it was screaming at the intruder.

“You should probably get that,” the man spoke coldly.

“Right,” quietly, the woman closed her door before walking back to her kitchen and removing the kettle from the stove; she was unnerved at the man’s presence, and hardly made a sound as she began making tea.

Meanwhile, amongst the wreckage of an Aide Station…

“What do you mean there’s been a change in plans?” The one-armed Ensign spoke into his transceiver with a frustrated and confused tone.

[npc=navy]“It's a minor consideration really. You'll still be assessing whether or not you think the city's populace can be salvaged; but you'll be working more closely with our real persons of interest, local industry leaders."[/npc]

"So you're telling me that I have to get my men to drop this entire facade of medical assistance? We have a certain amount of adaptability, but do you not wonder if the people of the island will notice that our clinic dissapeared overnight?"

[npc=navy]"Listen Moreau, I know you you want to try to help these people; but we're here for a reason, I need you to see if our nobles can trust these people as business partners, and in exchange we need you to help deal with a problem."[/npc]

"Fine. Doesn't seem my input matters much anyways, what's the new mission?" Moreau spoke with sharp irritation in his voice, he wasn’t happy to be giving up on the operation that had lost him his arm; but he was in no position to defy the chain of command.

[npc=navy]“The long and short of it is that there’s someone out murdering the local businessmen, we’ve sent another platoon of men to assist, Captain Gallows will now be heading the operation, and once he’s arrived you can report to him and he’ll give you the finer details; they’re en route and should be arriving this evening.”[/npc]

“Fan-fucking-tastic…” Moreau answered with atypical rudeness before hanging up the transceiver of his snail, … what do these jackasses have planned now, the purple-haired dandy thought bitterly to himself. He looked down to where his arm used to be, he could only hope that this mission would go more smoothly.

Post Word Count: 666
Total Word Count: 666

The day of 24th March, 1829
Winds 54
Variable winds with wet weather encountered a storm front at Sundown. Nil Crew lost. Poorly secured rigging resulted in light damage and one injury. Cadet Collins flogged; 4 lashes for shirking duties.




Viari signed the logbook and returned the fountain pen to its well. He closed the book and brushed it along the table, his eyes shifting to the ladder that led to the lower deck. Cadet Collins was presently taking stock of their supplies after the storm.

Collins emerged from the hold, clinging awkwardly to both edges of the ladder. The sharp scent of vinegar and lantern oil clung to him, a reminder of his recent work below deck. He was no typical sailor, having joined the Marines after some undisclosed failures on land. But despite his awkward gait and unusual smell, he was a cheerful lad, well-liked by the crew, even after the most recent incident.

"I have my report, sir," Collins said, wiping sweat from his brow with the cuff of his jacket.

"No leakage below the waterline, but I don't think Captain Spire will be pleased. A keg of his reserve is gone, plus two dozen foodstuffs." His round face was shining with sweat and anxiety; he knew he would be at the lash again, and he doubted Viari would be the one dishing out the punishment. Viari's grim expression betrayed his thoughts, and Collins's neck shrunk back as though he were a turtle retreating into its shell.

Well, that explained the vinegar. The Captain's reserve was Double Barrel, a whiskey distilled and imported from the East Blue.

Viari considered their options before replying. "Take the logbook and report to Captain Spire. Inform him that I took pity on you and gave you leave to rest. I will promptly provide him with a report on the condition of our stocks."

Viari had already expressed his dissatisfaction with the Captain's decision to brave the storm with an inexperienced crew. What had he called it, a baptism by fire? And all that because he was desperate to prove his worth to the Commodore; perhaps this was the Captain's penance?

"Sir?" Collins asked quizzically, his face brightening.

"You heard me," Viari said. "Go, give him the logbook, and get some rest."

Collins hesitated as if he could not believe his luck. Then he turned and hurried away, leaving Viari alone in the cabin.

Viari sighed and shook his head. Captain Spire would not be pleased with the news of the lost supplies, but he had done what he could to spare Collins from further punishment. He would just have to hope that the Captain would see reason.

25th March, 1829 - Morning, Spider Miles

---

The smog obscured the sun and made it feel like dusk, even though it was midday. Viari, in his hybrid form, stood on the central mast of the Rubbeck, his eyes narrowed against the haze. He dressed with extra care in his best uniform, a cobalt jacket growing steadily darker and more soaked in sweat.

His gaze was fixated upon the only things powerful enough to pierce the thick, black fog: the smokestacks of the factories, outlining the vast city of iron and stone, great monolithic towers spreading their spheres of influence across the atmosphere — the symbols of power, industry, and oppression.

The jangle of chains caught his immediate attention, his head snapping to the polluted waters below. His pupils pinned a light in the darkness, "Ship to starboard!" Viari screeched.

The helmsman reacted instantly, and the Rubbeck turned hard to port. His talons dug deep, carving thick grooves into the mast, his tail flicking to help hold his balance. Sailors below were thrown ajar, many catching themselves on railings and cargo. Viari's head swivelled, watching the scrap-laden barge merrily passing them by as sailors exchanged insults and curses.

Lt. Cmdr. Riley, the Rubbeck's first officer, bustled onto the upper deck, his expression grim.

"We can't carry on like this," he said. "Some goons raided the lighthouse, got into a gunfight, and wrecked the place."

"Well, ain't that bloody convenient," Miss Roland, the helmswoman, scoffed. "Whoever they were, I hope they bloody hang."

"I can't comment on the conspiracy, but your right Sir," Viari agreed. "Even my eyesight cannot pierce the smog. However, I do have a proposition."

"I'm happy to hear it, Lieutenant."

"We raid the galley for pots and pans and make an awful racket. It should at least help warn of our approach. That, or we return to the bosun his horn."

“Oh, celestials no,” Roland interjected. “I’d rather scrape barnacles from the keel.”

Riley's lips turned upwards, "He does drive the sirens away, doesn't he? Must be torture for you."

"There is a good reason I threatened to use his pipes as a bludgeon."

"Hmm. Very well, take the cadets to the galley. In the meantime, I'll speak with the Captain about procuring a foghorn."

"Sir."

"And Viari, the Captain, is assigning you to meet with our local garrison. They have been providing relief to the locals and have been roped into the ongoing investigation into the 'black widow'. You should meet with them on arrival."

Viari nodded. He knew this would be a frustrating mission but he was determined to see it through.

Post Word Count: 874
Total Word Count: 874

Edit; fixed typo

The man feverishly paces across the room, looking out and scanning the streets diligently before closing the shutters of each of her tenement windows. Nervously, Ruby slides a cup and coaster towards him, speaking her offer timidly like a scared rabbit, “I don’t suppose you’d care for te-”

Immediately, the gruff man snaps and cuts her off, “I think we should be safe here. Didn’t see anyone followin’ me. Oh and-- eh, yeh, thank you…”

With an abrupt and jagged motion, the black-haired man drew the cup to his mouth and inhaled all the brew contained therein with little care for its heat.

“... thank you for the tea.”

“Ehm, you’re welcome? What do you mean we’re not in danger? This is my house, I’d certainly hope that I wouldn’t be in danger here. Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Hmm, you really want to know?” Jack eyed her up and down, as though gauging the woman’s capacity for betrayal; or perhaps, how easily he could force her to be forever silent.

“Uh, you know, maybe it’s best I leave things alone, who am I to refuse good company anyways?” The whore nervously stammered, going pale in the face as she sensed the man’s predatory nature.

“Oh, no please, you’ve been such a fine host, allow me to enlighten you…” the man tapped the edge of his cup, beckoning she pour him more tea.

Ruby was quick to comply.

“... what I been doin’, is going round these upper crust neighborhoods n’ eh, showing some of them a night on the town, courtesy of us folks down in the slums,” Jack wore a chipper smile on his face as he spoke the euphemism, he was a poor liar, barely making effort to conceal what he’d truly done.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Jack smiled and eyed up his host for her response before downing another full cup of tea.

”Sounds like you’ve brought a lot of trouble my way…” Ruby spoke in a grave calm, “... in truth, I can’t say that I needed it. I killed my boss.”

The cocky expression of the man sitting across from her faded and was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and squinting eyes, “Pardon me ma’am, but ya don’t really seem the type…”

Sitting his chin upon his fist the good-hearted serial killer eyed the whore-turned-murderer, “... but you’re not kidding. Good on ya girl!” The twitchy man slapped his hand on the table alongside his exclamation.

Shushing the man and motioning he lower his tone, Ruby replied in a hushed tone, “I thought you were trying to keep a low profile.”

A wicked smile washed across the man’s face as he glowered at the woman from beneath his brow, “Oh anything but, I assure you dear. But I’ve still got plans, so I s’pose you’re right…” mockingly, the man spoke his next words in an eerie whisper, “... best to keep quiet.”

Ruby scowled, her fright had subsided, and her surprise houseguest had long outstayed his welcome, “So what’s wrong with you, eh? Why don’t you just go join the revolutionary army if you’ve got such a vendetta against the upper crust?”

“Never really worked well with others…” the dark-haired man began rummaging around his jacket pockets, and shortly procured an odd-looking device, tossing it onto the table, “... ‘sides, I got a bit of a bone to pick.”

Ruby eyed the weird-looking thing, seemingly a collar with a small snail perched on its outside, “And what is this exactly?”

“A game!--”

“SHH!” Ruby cut the excitable man off as he began to shout, a moment of silence passed, a footstep creaked from the tenement floor above, after a couple of seconds the woman beckoned that the man go on.

“A punishment game. For the man I sold my life to. A bomb,” as he showed off his work the man looked at the young lady with a blissful smile.

Awaiting Reinforcements at a Nearby Dockside…

With his officer’s coat draped over his severed limb and a pocket watch clutched in his remaining hand Moreau kept his eyes fixated intently on the clock. As the waves lapped at the wood below he wondered what more Spider Miles had in store for him, what more HQ had planned.

I suppose it’s just as well that someone else heads things here, all I’ve done is let innocent men die… he thought back to the men who had been captured by the cooks, to whatever had happened with Julius; almost an entire unit wiped out by a troupe of lowlife thugs, all it took was a simple sleeping poison …whoever comes off that ship, I won't let them die; not like that.

Alongside the scarce survivors from the previous operation, the tall and dark-eyed man sat in waiting. He hoped at least that whoever stepped off that boat would be decent to work with, he’d seen more than enough backstabbing, incompetence, and cowardice in recent history.

Post Word Count: 830
Total Word Count: 1,496

The Rubbeck's entry into port was disruptive as a few sailors took to becoming a budget marching band. Their instrument of choice? The pots and pans were looted from the cook's kitchen. Viari knew he would face the wrath of Chef Jayce and his assistant later. Not to mention the Captain's complaints.

"What in seven seas is this racket?!" Demanded the Captain

Viari did not immediately answer, instead pivoting his body to stand at attention and allow his senior to speak.

Riley's movements were slower, "Captain," He said respectfully, "we are making our final approach into the dock. However, damage was sustained to the lighthouse. As you are aware, Spider Miles is the busiest port in the North Blue. We, therefore, thought it prudent to take countermeasures."

"And this was your idea?"

"No. We have Lt. Govine to thank for that," He said.

Viari felt his feathers rise like daggers as the Captain glared at him.

"but I did authorise it." Riley finished drawing attention back to him.

"Carry on then," The Captain sighed, "Report to me once we dock Riley."

After the door slammed shut, Viari nodded at Riley, "Thanks."

Rubbecks Arrival - Dockside

The Rubbeck's moorings secured and anchored away, Viari sighed relieved. The crew's relief was palpable. Riley stepped down his command to quartermaster Layla. She and the bosun were quick to put the sailors to work, preparing cargo nets and preparing to receive raw materials that would assist in minor repairs.

Riley and Viari stepped down from the command deck and walked along the Rubbeck's port side, which ran parallel to the pier. They stopped at the end of the gangplank and looked out at the bustling port. "We will be in port for a week. While we make repairs and resupply."

Viari nodded in agreement. "That should prove plenty." Riley smiled. "Be cautious and keep your wits about you. This isn't Briss, and you might find the locals to be a bit more nervous about talking to Marines."

"Any more advice?" Viari asked, appreciating any insights the Lt. Cmdr could offer. "Tread lightly. Do not let the few cloud your judgment; treat them with respect, and listen most of all to your comrades. They know this city."

"Thank you, Sir." Viari bowed his head in respect one last time and disembarked the Rubbeck. He looked on through the pockets of smog, seeing the outline of those waiting for them.

He advanced confidently toward the Marines, his eyes drawn by the giant of a man. He couldn't help but wonder if the man had the giant's blood. Although he had never met one, he heard plenty of legends. His choice of clothes was pleasantly surprising - given the locale and the typical hygiene of some sailors, he expected worse.

"Hello there, I trust you are the investigatory team?" Viari asked, raising a claw-tipped wing in greeting. "I am Lt. Viari, reporting from the Rubbeck." He said, purposefully neglecting his family name. Mentioning it did one of two things. Either they thought his commission was born of nepotism, or they treated him with undue respect. In truth, neither was accurate. He was self-assured in his belief that his assignment to the Rubbeck, a ship known to patrol the safer waters of the North Blue was his father's influence at work.

That is also partly why the Captain was so eager to prove himself that could be said of the entire crew, at least those who cared for promotion and their work. All except Riley, who, according to ensign Roland had requested his particular assignment despite the Commodore's intent to promote and assign him to his battleship.

Post Word Count: 604
Total Word Count: 1,478

The keen man heard his fellow Marines coming before he saw them, though in truth, at first he attributed the clattering sounds of pots and pans to an incoming vessel of ruffians, he was pleasantly surprised at the sight of the Navy vessel: a floating bastion of law and order crashing against a lawless hellhole.

The Ensign sat unphased as the men of the Rubbeck made their way down onto the docks, amongst safe company, he could finally afford to let his guard down; his high strung expression gave way to a dead-eyed one, as though he was just barely managing to keep his eyes open.

Moreau’s stupor was broken by the raised talon of the Lieutenant greeting him, for a moment, he peered over his brow at the Zoan’s mutated arm with an icy glare; the flagrant use of a fruit seemed like an utter oddity to him at this point, his had failed him when he needed it most, his weapons jammed, and his paramecia transformations were diminished by the effects of a potent drug.

“I suppose that’s what we are now. Originally we were here on a scouting mission…” the violet-haired dandy seemed hesitant to speak further, but he found himself compelled to elaborate; both for the sake of the mission, and because, perhaps once he had spoken it, it would finally make sense.

“... we were attempting to provide aide to the community to determine whether or not it would be prudent to peaceably take the territory. Our cooks were sourced from the community, and they all turned out to be local thugs. I lost my arm in the endeavor,” as much was evident looking upon the man, his torso bandaged, the sleeve of his officer’s coat hung limply over a shoulder that was no longer there.

“You probably know more than I do, all things considered, presumably Captain Spire can brief us all once you’ve all settled in. In the meantime, come to the camp and make yourself at home, I’ll brew tea if you’d like,” the man’s tone was flat as he spoke to his fellow officer, but it seemed as though his gentler manners had not abandoned him entirely.

Meanwhile, Trouble Brews Amongst the Fatcats

“Dear, how did I let you drag me into this?” Ruby spoke frustratedly towards Jack as she tailed behind him in her flats, though she’d had the good sense to ditch her heels; she was lacking in utilitarian footwear (as some fashion-forward young women might be), unlike her counterpart who had already sprinted to the side of the Manor House’s walls and scrambled up them in his boots.

“Don’t worry, Ruby, I’ll make it worth your while. Just promise me you’ll do right with the money eh?” Jack trusted Ruby, in his eyes a whore-turned murderer was more deserving than any wealthy man, more trustworthy than any policeman, and more noble than a callous professional like himself.

The red-haired woman thought quietly to herself, what she would do with the rich man’s money. She’d finally be free from her debt, maybe she could pay off her parents’ debts too, and perhaps find a home to settle down in on the fringes of town where the smell of industrial waste wasn’t as ever-present. Is that all the strange man wanted? She could think of several people more deserving than herself, but she was no fool, and she had accompanied the man on his mission for a reason.

Gathering all of her strength, Ruby jumped and climbed up and over the wall, dropping a single shoe on the exterior as she stumbled and lost her footing more than once in her effort.

The deed was swift. The haunting man Jack seemed as though he could smell the stink of berri on the man, descending upon him like a hawk crashing through the window of the tycoon’s study, “Any last wishes old man Kochefeller?”

[npc=misc]“What?! Who are you? Get out of here immediately young man, Miles, Jeeves!”[/npc] The man was pale as a ghost as he called out for his men.

And soon enough, he would pass on to the afterlife.

“Best not to squander life’s opportunities. I can’t leave this place now, just like you right? Once you’ve started laying your pipelines it doesn’t matter what’s in the way, the octopus’ tendrils have to reach their ends…”

Jack drew his gun and placed it against the man’s forehead.

“... tell me, did you ever leave when those people begged you not to build pipelines over their homes?” The wild-eyed criminal's eyes twitched as he looked into those of his subject.

[npc=misc]“I- I--”[/npc]

Two men burst into the room, interrupting Kochefeller’s response.

Ruby heard only the three shots of a six-shooter echoing out from the building as she awaited Jack’s return, she’d managed to open the gate from the inside, and now the two could make a clean escape. A minute or two went by before, as though appearing from the darkness itself, Jack emerged with a large sack of stolen goods over either shoulder.

“Best get a move on, eh girlie?” The murderer growled as the distant sounds of running guards could be heard from further down the street.

With a simple nod, Ruby began running, and the two were gone with the wind.

Back in the Makeshift Marine Encampment

Moreau was quick to brew tea for those amongst the officers who wanted it, when he was back in the academy, he may have been so kind as to make enough for the crewmen, but his service had calloused him; hospitality was a courtesy afforded to those who had proven themselves worthy of  such consideration.

“So, Captain Spire, care to clue us in as to the nature of our operation now that we’ve all assembled?” The large-framed man spoke, resting his chin upon interwoven fingers and furrowing his brow, Jean was eager to finally understand the matter at hand; in truth, he still bore some bitterness at the abandonment of his task force’s original mission.

“Very well, Ensign. To restore order to, and secure our interests in, Spider Miles, we have a matter of utmost importance. A killer is on the loose, and his targets are amongst the few respectable businessmen in this city. He’s been causing us trouble with chemical shipments and putting businesses, and families, all over the island into disarray. We need to get to the bottom of this case, find this criminal, and show Spider Miles that wanton murder and dissidence against the good people of this island will not be tolerated.

To the point of your previous mission, Ensign Moreau, I believe that if we make a strong show of discipline in the city’s center, we may be able to salvage this lawless wasteland. These people are like dogs, for the most part, the incentives of our protection and economic power are sufficiently good reinforcement, but when they behave in manners that are not acceptable in a just or good society, it is our duty to bring them into line by any means necessary.”

What might sound rather brutal to most simply brought a smile to the cold-eyed devil’s face, “An interesting plan Spire, then our duty is to bring this man in alive so that we might make an example of him?”

“Precisely, Ensign. As for leads on the case, I propose that we speak with the city’s guards, beyond that, I can tell you that the following families have recently seen an untimely departure of their patriarch: the Morgans, the Vanderbilts, and the Cowells; I can only assume that they would all be eager to cooperate in solving the murders of their family members.”

Moreau looked tenuously to the other officers surrounding him, he was amongst the lowest-ranking present, and worried that he had overstepped his authority in speaking so casually with the Captain.

Post Word Count: 1309
Total Word Count: 2805

What a miserable bunch of louts.

Viari scowled. Moreau and his story struck a nerve; a similar incident resulted in his sire's retirement from the Navy. However, that injury was suffered in an open battle, not whilst assisting the local community. How were the Marines supposed to protect people they couldn't trust? Perhaps they had forgotten the ilk that burned a crimson path across the seas, raiding and pillaging as they went. What then?

He held his tongue, clicking his sandal against the pier. Exhaling to release the tension from his shoulders, "That is terrible. I can't believe something like that would happen. Hopefully, our investigations will help uproot that evil. Tea and shelter from the ocean's bite sounds lovely. Thank you." He said, not wishing to pry further.

Marine Encampment

"Thank you," Viari accepted the tea graciously. He inhaled the aromatic steam, letting it help warm his body. A white tea base, mixed with mint, cloves, and cinnamon, created a smooth and rich flavour. His memories were flooded with thoughts of home. He smiled, "Reminds me of the penny universities (Cafe) back home."

He drank in small sips, savouring the taste while Moreau pursued his line of questioning, capitalising on the opportunity to study the room. The entourage was so large that it filled the boardroom from one corner to the other, a half-dozen officers sweltering in the heat of the roaring fire. One man, evidently a local enforcement officer, sat beside Cpt. Spire, while Riley flanked his left.

Bring them in line...
Like dogs...
Any means necessary...

Privately, Viari flinched. He was distraught to hear his Captain paint them all in the same brush. He knew Riley's opinion, and the man's head sunk forward onto his chest. No words were spoken, however, and good Lieutenant maintained his usual cool. He hoped for better; instead, the Captain scolded in terms he would have considered scrupled to use with any of his sailors.

For any peace to last, they would need the hearts and minds of law-abiding citizens, but Captain Spire was as short-sighted as ever. With any luck, his harsh words would never reach their ears. For his part, he allowed ensign Moreau to speak, although the same couldn't be said of his fellow officers.

"Yes. Ensign," Arthur agreed, emphasizing Moreau's rank. "In what way do you find it interesting? Captain Spire's plan is logical enough." He added, once more emphasizing Spire's rank.

Viari scowled not much liking Arthur's tone. Yes, Ensign Moreau had a slip of discipline, but it was a singular instance. His eyes wandered to Moreau; ranks aside, Moreau was still an officer, and he expected he could speak for himself. Even so, Viari wondered if he would say anything, would he ignore Arthur or attempt to de-escalate?

"What evidence do we have that the murders are connected?" Viari asked, putting down his saucer.

Captain Spire looked directly across the table at Viari, his expression grim and thin-lipped.

"Method, primarily." He replied plainly, "Gunshot from a high-calibre pistol, and many families involved have investments in the Abbeyhill tenements. The first victim, Karl-Theodor Cowell, was found dead outside Agony and Ecstasy."

There was a murmur and groan throughout the room. "A den of debauchery, I take it?"

"Quite," Captain Spire confirmed, "Vanderbilts, much the same. Except this time, several items of jewellery were unaccounted for, and the victim was found near the markets. As for Cowell, he was discovered in the street approaching his manor."

Viari frowned, "Suggesting they are growing more confident."

"Indeed, it's only a matter of time before they begin assaulting people in their own homes." Captain Spire added grimly, eyes drawn to the door.

Listening to the rapid footsteps slouching through the mud outside. Viari stepped aside, allowing a young, pale-faced enforcement officer past him. The officer apologising as he went, he weaved between the marines to reach the sergeant's ear.

"We will split into teams," Captain Spire explained whilst ignoring the intrusion "Lieutenant Viari, and I will interrogate the Mistress of Agony and Ecstasy. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Commander Riley will work with Ensign Moreau to identify and apprehend the culprits. I recommend speaking with the most recent victim-"

"I'm afraid that line has already been crossed." Interrupted the Sargeant, "We received a Mushi-Mushi from the Kochefeller residence regarding another attack."

Captain Spire cursed beneath his breath, "Riley, take Ensign Moreau with you. See if you can assist the sergeant in tracking down these criminal scum."

"Respectfully, Sir. I must decline. I would better serve to provide security to the Kochefeller family." He glanced across the table at Viari, "Send Lt. Viari instead: his devil fruit should prove most helpful in these dark streets."

Captain Spire scowled and hesitated but did not contest his first officer's suggestion; putting aside any disdain, Captain Spire addressed the pair. "Very well. Ensign Moreau and Lieutenant Viari will begin the chase. Do not let them escape. Riley, see that no further harm comes to the Kochefeller family. The rest of you will assist in cordoning off the area to ensure no one escapes. I will continue to coordinate efforts from here. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Viari replied, finally some action and a chance to prove his worth. Perhaps once victorious, his superiors would give him a proper commission, not a safe patrol frigate. "Shall we?" He asked, ear tufts already beginning to take shape as he struggled to hide his excitement.

Post Word Count: 915
Total Word Count: 2,393

“Indeed, let’s get to it Lieutenant Viari, sir,” Moreau threw his officer’s coat on, and the large-statured man briefly conferred with one of the Marines of Captain Spire’s crew before beginning to lead the way to the Kochefeller manse.

The icy-eyed man seemed cold and gloomy as they made their way away from the Marine encampment, still, the Ensign attempted to make a bit of small talk with his superior officer as they made their way toward the wealthier districts of Spider Miles, “it seems like your Captain has some sort of a problem with you, do you mind me inquiring what’s going on? Does he treat everybody like that?”

Moreau sneered with contempt for the Captain’s behavior as he spoke this question, “It just strikes me as needlessly rude and condescending, non? Unless you’ve truly shown yourself to be an absolutely incompetent moron, I don’t know where he gets off treating you as anything less than an asset to this mission; it was at your commanding officer’s recommendation that you were sent along rather than him, so you certainly must have proven yourself reliable in some capacity.”

Running by the pair at a brisk pace as they spoke, a group of Marines began heading for the scene of the crime to secure the area and prepare the family of the victim for the Officers’ inquiry. Moreau grimaced as he feared he may have said too much.

Meanwhile, Back in Ruby’s Apartment…

As the robber unpacked the valuables before her, the woman couldn’t help but see Berri in her eyes, the treasures of the wealthy were truly splendiferous: a pocket watch studded with hundreds of finely cut diamonds, piles of precious coins, glittering gems, and ingots of 24-karat gold…

… Ruby couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “how are we going to get rid of all this stuff?”

“Do whatever you want with it girlie, hell, wear the jewelry for all I care…” The man lit up a cigarette indoors and smoked out the prostitute’s open window, “... just don’t tell anyone how you got it, and be careful if you try to sell it; there’s plenty of black merchants who’ll sell you out if it’s more profitably for ‘em.”

“Uh, right. Next question, where are you planning on going? Because you’re certainly not staying here,” though she was grateful for the windfall that the man had brought upon her, Ruby had no interest in getting any further involved in Jack’s murderous affairs.

“Shoot, there goes option one…” Jack scratched his chin for a moment, “... here you know what Rube, I’ll do you a solid; I’m gonna go out there and kill again, so I’ll draw the heat off of our little escapade.”

A bead of sweat rolled down the woman’s forehead as the man began climbing out of her window, she hesitated a moment before pulling him back into her home, “Okay listen, you can stay here, just please don’t get me into any more trouble; I lost a shoe out there, I don’t think going on a killing spree is going to help things.”

“What do you mean you lost a shoe?! You left something at the scene?!” Jack growled back at the whore.

“I didn’t mean to! And be quiet, if you’re going to stay here for the night then you can’t be screaming…” Ruby lowered the tone of the conversation, ushering the man back to her kitchen table., “... listen, as long as we stay put here and don’t cause any trouble, this should all blow over right? I mean that could be anybody’s shoe! Who would recognize a woman by a shoe?!”

“Perhaps the clients of a prostitute?” Still irritated, Jack raised his eyebrow at the woman to show his skepticism.

“I — that’s a fair point…” the woman tried to think of a rebuttal, but in all honesty, she couldn’t, she’d worn the shoes she wore out that night several times throughout her work as a streetwalker; if the authorities questioned enough of the men around town, soon enough they’d catch the scent of her trail, “... so how long do you think we have before they find us out?”

“Hours, maybe a couple of days if we’re lucky. Depends on how many men you were, eh, working with. Either way, pack your shit; if you left something at the scene of the crime then we need to get a move on and find somewhere to lay low if you don’t want to be caught up in all of this.”

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Viari acknowledged Moreau as they proceeded towards the imposing palisades that separated the outpost from the noble quarter. Officers harkened to squadrons of marines, drafting them into the iron curtain that would soon fall upon the unsuspecting town. Passing into that same threshold, Viari sighed, as though he were leaving his problems behind in that walled complex, his piercing gaze scanning across the plaza for anything that might indicate trouble. Nearby, a group of drunkards were already pointing and whispering as men in uniform flooded into the streets.

A slurred voice, thick with rum, cut through the evening air. Viari's ears perked up instinctively, drawn to the mention of the murders. He slowed his walk, allowing the shadows to swallow him as he leaned closer to the ramshackle tavern.

"Lolks like something is afoot. Reckon smthin to do with dem murdr?"

"Bah! Prlbavly some rich cunt trippinb ovrr into a puddle."

"Oh ey, look at those two. One with yhe arm and those feathers in hid hair."

A fourth member remained tight-lipped and flirted away into the shadows of a nearby alley. Viari considered giving pursuit but thought better of it. They were just as likely a petty thief spooked by the mobilisation as they were an informant, and besides, chasing them now would only drive them deeper into hiding.

The more perceptive amongst them even noticed his exotic features, drawing Viari's attention to his appearance. The Devil Fruit continued to vex him. An unwanted gift that his father had used in a foul-hearty attempt to isolate him from the Merchant Navy. Hastily correcting this error and ensuring no other Officers were in earshot, he finally matched Moreau's strides and addressed his commentary.

A perky laugh escaped Viari's lips, tinged with a hint of caution. "You wear your thoughts like a tattered flag, Moreau. Do they ever cause you trouble?"

Viari lowered his voice, "Please, call me Viari. And I will leave it to you to decide upon my competency." He smiled, "As for my relationship with Captain Spire, we should recognise he is a self-made man and has done well to receive his post. In contrast, I am the son of a retired senior officer. Who is not short of influence in Briss or the Marines; connecting the dots, many would presume my position to be born of Neoptism. And I am not in disagreement. However, investigating deeper would reveal the truth of the matter."

Viari continued with a tinge of bitterness, "I am my father's firstborn son, and he would much prefer me to pursue a landed position as a courtier or priest. The Rubeck is a patrol vessel, and it does not see much action from anything besides would-be criminals and pirates, far from the adventurous and dangerous lifestyle led by other Marines." He looks now at Moreau's arm. "Furthermore, his Flag Lieutenant is assigned to the same ship."

"Lt Cmdr. Riley gave me this assignment to prove myself and hopefully escape the dead-end assignment." He finished, a defiant glint returning to his eyes. However, he couldn't help but wonder if Riley was setting him up for failure solidifying his post.

Viari turned his head forward, looking towards the future. "We also disagree on many things, but I believe that to be the political dance I am caught up in."

Honestly, he couldn't say why he confided in Moreau. Maybe he just needed to get it off his chest, enabling him to sharpen his mind for the battle on the horizon. Hoping to capitalise on Moreau's prying, Viari asked, "Say, Moreau. What is it that brought you to Spider Miles? It sounds like you have had quite the adventure."

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