This is an experimental story, and one to solve any cases of writer's block which, unfortunately for me, are very numerous and often. That's good for you, though, since it will be updated frequently.
I'm going to tell you now that this will be a lot of narrative, and hopefully enough action to balance it out. So don't be afraid to give constructive criticism on any part of the story, but especially that aspect. That's what the experimental part is, after all!
I hope you enjoy this little project of mine!
Warning: Major spoilers for the Marineford Arc.
Normally, a man would run like hell if he saw a marine captain approaching him. Normally, a man would lie about the hidden booze (and the red covering his cheeks) and hope to get off the hook.
"Yeah, Captain Sonnan. It was one hell of a party."
Unfortunately, our protagonist is not a normal man. In fact, he was a rather abnormal man.
"Cleaning? Fun."
The sarcastic tone dripping from these words did nothing to placate the captain. In fact, he only got angrier, a red hue tinting his cheeks.
Luckily for the rebellious ensign, the captain settled for a year's worth of cleaning. Of course, this was no easy task. He would be the only person cleaning (the marines would usually clean their own things to practice discipline; although they hardly matter to this story, I'll inform you that they were very happy about this turn of events), and the marine base he was in was larger than a thousand Laboons combined. Not that our protagonist would know who Laboon is.
But I digress. This man could be seen wandering the halls in an intoxicated state, not caring that a captain had performed an inspection and gotten very, very bad results.
"Hey, Dave! One hell of a party!" another drunken man informed him, apparently sharing our protagonist's opinion. Although, you couldn't blame them. Any party involving the death of a Whitebeard Division Commander was sure to be a good one. Especially after a lengthy funeral service and a depressed atmosphere that seemed to hang around for months. But I digress once again.
The man apparently named Dave waved and stumbled along. It should be noted that he had nearly two barrels of grog, so it was an amazing feat that he managed to find his room.
The place was trashed, not that the man cared much. Barrels and bottles of alcohol were scattered around the relatively tiny space, some even laying on top of the remaining men who hadn't been able to escape before alcohol ravished their systems. It was probably better that way; they could feign innocence after a shower.
Dave, however, couldn't take this option. Ignoring the incident with the admiral, it was very early in the morning, and he was due to report for duty in but an hour. So he did what any sane drunken man would do.
He flopped down on the bed, and soon a new voice was added to the chorus of snores.
I could say that the story ended here. I could say that he woke up with a severe hangover, got reprimanded, and was set to work. I could add that after the year of work, he was returned to his normal position and was soon promoted for a valiant effort on the field.
And this just might have happened, had it not been for a very severe case of sleepwalking.
In order to understand the situation, we need to go back to the time he was fifteen. Depressed, tired of life, and generally annoyed with the world, Dave was like any other teen. But that's not what I'm here to tell you.
Back in his teenage years, Dave didn't sleepwalk. In fact, he was as still as a board when he slept. But when a peculiar pirate with a peculiar devil fruit arrived, the island gained its nickname of Zombie Cove.
This pirate was Roald 'Dreamer' Harris, a rookie pirate in the West Blue. He was not fond of his title-despised it, even-but he did appreciate the seven million beli bounty on his head. How he earned it, however, is a mystery and not relevant to this story.
Roald had docked on the island for the simple purpose to obtain supplies. However, he was going to pay for them like any model citizen. This was not as much a pure heart as it was a lack of the ability to overthrow a large amount of townspeople.
But Roald was mischievous. Impish, even. So before he left, he threw a special powder around the village courtesy of his devil fruit. This power would cause them to sleepwalk the rest of their lives.
It should be noted that this devil fruit caused them to do so in a peculiar way.
So we return to Dave, who was now walking out the door. It should be obvious by now that he was sleepwalking.
After but a few minutes, he managed to make his way to the docks, where he pulled out a dingy and hopped in. He released the ropes, pushed off, and he was a free man. A hungover, sleepwalking, soon-to-be fired free man, but a free man nonetheless.
Oh, and I'm aware that the title is lacking. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated, but I might think of a good one eventually.