Vice Admiral Venus Harlow swept into her office with a commanding presence, her white trench coat of justice billowing behind her before she tossed it carelessly onto the lounge. The sharp screech of her chair against the floor echoed as she pulled it out and settled into her desk, her movements precise and deliberate. With a flick of her wrist, she ignited her lighter, the flame catching the end of her cigar. She took a deep, hard pull, exhaling a perfect ring of smoke that curled into the air. Her perfectly manicured fingers ran through her long, freshly styled blond hair, the gesture effortless yet calculated. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her long legs, her sharp eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. Her lips curled into a scowl. "Where the hell are those two?" she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "I am going to be late for my afternoon spa treatment!" The room seemed to tense at her impatience, the air thick with her unspoken demand for punctuality.
Tapping her finger impatiently on the polished veneer of her desk, Vice Admiral Venus Harlow took another slow pull from her cigar, the smoke curling around her like a shroud. The rhythmic tap of her nail matched the ticking of the clock, each second stretching her irritation thinner. Finally, the minute hand clicked forward, and she cursed under her breath, bolting from her seat. Just as she was about to storm out, the familiar banter of voices echoed down the hall. She paused, drawing deeply on her cigar before settling back into her chair. Intertwining her fingers, she waited, her sharp gaze fixed on the door. When the banter stops, she barks, "DON'T KNOCK! GET IN HERE!"
The door creaked open, and two young Marine Captains stepped inside, their boots clicking sharply against the floor. "Pardon our tardiness, Vice Admiral," Kai Sullivan said, standing at attention, his amber eyes flicking briefly toward his sandy-haired counterpart, a silent exchange passing between them. The tension in the room was unmistakable as Vice Admiral Harlow leaned back in her chair, her steely gaze assessing them. She exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the cigar resting between her fingers. "You're testing my patience," she said, her voice low but cutting. "Explain yourselves. Now."
Nuri Evander is about to reply when Venus interrupts, "Enough! I am not interested in your excuses." Brow creased, she looked Nuri up and down, "What the hell is going on with your uniform?"
Nuri tugs the corners of his top, "I was in the middle of…"
Flipping her wrist, "I am not interested. Get it fixed!" Drawing on her cigar, "Report!"
"Yes, mam," Kai references the folder under his arm. "There is nothing notable to be mentioned. Training is being conducted per the schedule. Our next shipment of supplies and troop exchange will be in three days. The replacement parts for the boiler have arrived, and repairs are underway. The projected time frame of completion is this afternoon. The only new addition to base operations is the upcoming visit of Vice Admiral Vergo."
"Vergo!" she growls. "Did he state what he is coming for?"
Kai whips the folder close, "I believe it is a routine inspection."
Her chair groans, "My ass it is." She sighs, "What needs to be done for the base to be inspection-ready?"
"Not much," Kai holds his hands behind him. Some housekeeping. Some places can use some paint or general maintenance. We need to reallocate resources to make it more aesthetically pleasing."
"Do it," she rolls the cigar between her fingers. "I don't want any feedback from him about conditions or fitness. Add an evening run to the schedule."
"Mam," they both look at Nuri. "Isn't that a bit excessive?"
A corner of her mouth lifts, "Since you are so concerned, you can conduct the training. Everyone runs five miles through the confidence course. If they fail an obstacle, they have to start from the beginning. It will be up to you to ensure they are capable Marines."
"But Mam!"
"Say one more word, and it will be ten miles!"
Nuri grits his teeth, "Yes, mam!"
"Don't let me see your uniform in that state again!" Turning her attention to Kai, "Anything else?"
"No, mam."
She stands, dabbing out her cigar, "Good. You two are excused. I have a previous engagement."
"Yes, mam," they both spin on their heels, exiting the room.
*****
"What did you say the name of this island was?" Marya gazes into the glass of a clothing shop.
"Gossypium Island," Vaughn nudges her, "Don't get distracted."
"I'm not," her head swivels as they walk down the bustling cobblestone streets that wound past whitewashed cottages adorned with blooming flower boxes. "It's just not what I expected, is all."
"What is it you were expecting?" Charlie slides the glasses up his nose.
Marya shrugs, "I don't know. Whenever I hear anything about the World Government or the Nobles, it always makes me think they repress their citizens, but this place looks like the citizens are thriving and peaceful."
Charlie tilts his head, pinching his chin. "I can see how that can make an impression, but you have to remember that the World Government has been in operation for centuries. While they promote slavery and oppression, that does not necessarily mean every island will experience it in an extreme capacity. This island, in particular, has a thriving economy due to its natural resources of cotton and wool, suggesting that it has a strong agricultural and distribution network. The Desdemona Noble family has been managing this island for several generations. I suspect they have much invested…." Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he pauses.
"Let's keep our opinions to ourselves, little brother," Vaughn's eyes jet to the passers-by. Leaning into his ear, "You never know who is listening."
"That looks like Marine uniforms," Marya watches a group enter a restaurant.
"That could be trouble," Vaughn grumbles.
"Does that complicate things?" Charlie asks.
"Maybe," Vaughn moves aside for someone. "Although, we should have expected it. There has to be some deterrent to keep Pirates at bay."
"Fair point," Charlie nods.
"After we find the Noble's mansion, we must locate their base." Vaughn ponders, "I wonder where it could be on this island?"
Marya's fingers tightened around the cold iron bars of the gate, her sharp eyes scanning the sprawling estate before her. "I think it's safe to assume this is their residence," she muttered, her voice low and measured. Beyond the gate, the main walkway was a vibrant tapestry of flowers and greenery, meticulously maintained, as if nature itself bowed to the will of its owners. A massive fountain stood at the center, its cascading water obscuring the full view of the towering mansion that loomed in the distance. The grandeur was undeniable, but it was the absence of guards that gave her pause.
She stepped back, her gaze tracing the imposing stone wall that encircled the property. "I don't see any guards, but…" Her voice trailed off, her instincts warning her that appearances could be deceiving. The stillness of the estate felt deliberate, almost predatory, as if the walls themselves were watching.
"Yeah," Vaughn strokes his jaw, "The shrubbery and trees outside the perimeter are well maintained. There is no overgrowth bridging this wall."
Hands on her hips, "I can still go in and look around." Shifting her weight, "We can at least get our bearings and see what we are dealing with."
Vaughn sighs, "Only look. Do not interact." Locking his eyes with hers, "In and out!"
Giving him a thumbs up, "You got it! Be right back." Her form vaporizes as she whisps away.
Vaughn spun sharply at the sound of rustling shrubbery, his senses on high alert. His hand shot to the hilt of Light Cleaver, the blade humming faintly as he drew it. He moved cautiously toward the source, each step deliberate, his boots crunching softly against the ground. The muffled sounds of arguing voices grew louder, tense and hurried. Vaughn's grip tightened on his weapon, his eyes narrowing as he called out, "Show yourselves!" The command cut through the air, sharp and commanding, as he braced for whatever—or whoever—might emerge from the shadows.
"I am going!" A blond-haired young man burst from the shrubbery, his round eyes wide behind the brim of his top hat. Vaughn's stance shifted instantly, Light Cleaver gleaming as he poised himself to strike. The man—Sabo—threw his hands up in a gesture of peace, his voice calm but urgent. "Whoa, whoa! We don't want any trouble." He stepped forward slowly, his posture relaxed but deliberate, one arm outstretched in greeting. "I'm Sabo. We're with the Revolutionary Army. It's nice to meet you." His tone was friendly, almost disarming, but Vaughn's grip on his weapon didn't loosen. The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of Sabo's affiliation hanging heavy. Revolutionary Army. Vaughn's mind raced, weighing the implications as he studied the man before him, searching for any hint of deception.