Miss Flotsam whistled to herself as she climbed the steep hill on the outskirts of the small village on Samujin Island. At the crest of the hill was a slightly run down hovel, her home sweet home. Most of the villagers stayed away from her home by the orders of the village leaders, who seemed to enjoy calling her a whippersnapper, so she was surprised to see letter stuffed halfway under her door.

It had been there for a while, perhaps as long as she had been gone on one of her business trips. Slinging her bag over one shoulder, she grabbed the letter and walked inside, shutting the door with her foot. She scanned the message quickly, lips curving into a smile. As she had expected, it was from him. It had all started six months earlier...

* * *

Miss Flotsam smirked as she ran her fingers through her haul, the results of yet another one of her successful pirating missions. She leaned back against one of the throw pillows that were scattered throughout her hidden lair, chuckling to herself and closing her eyes.

"Nice haul," A man's voice said, whistling with appreciation. Miss Flotsam jerked upright in surprise. A man stood at the entrance of her lair, looking around with interest. He had long, dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and two deep lines on either side of his nose. He had a gun perched on one shoulder and a cigarette was dangling from his mouth.

Miss Flotsam jumped to her feet, quickly drawing the cutlass that hung from her waist. The stranger held up his hand in a gesture of peace. "Now, I'm not here to pick a fight," He said, pulling a letter out of a pocket in his pants. "My name is Ben Beckman, and I'm here with a...business proposition." He tossed the letter to her feet. Without taking her eyes off of him, she bent down and picked it out of her pile of treasures. 'Miss Flotsam' was scrawled across the front of the worn piece of paper.

She opened the letter and quickly scanned the contents. Her lips curved into a smile. "Tell your 'Mr. Jetsam' that I'm in." She said to Ben. He just smiled...

* * *

One successful raid had followed the other. Miss Flotsam had never met Mr. Jetsam, all their correspondence having been done through Ben. Miss Flotsam was fairly certain that he was a high ranking pirate, judging by the things that he had her...commandeer for him. But, according to her latest letter he needed her assistance with…retrieving his next request. A request so important that he intended to go with her to retrieve it.

"It's about time," She said to herself, tossing the letter and its envelope on her bed as she pulled together another pack, dumping the one with spent items used during her last trip on the floor. The letter had been there for a few days, and their meeting had been scheduled for the next day. If she hurried, she would make it on time.

* * *

"Do you think she'll come, Shanks?" Ben asked his captain, leaning against a wall in the not so respectable inn chosen for their meeting with Miss Flotsam. The female thief was late, and Ben knew her well enough to know that she had a distaste for tardiness.

"Sure she'll come, Ben. Lighten up, have some rum!" The red haired captain retorted, downing a mug of the liquid himself without waiting for an answer. Ben rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the door to the inn. Just then, it burst open. A young woman stood in the doorway.

Tall, with light brown hair that hung just to just above her shoulders, her face was red with exertion. She brushed dust from the road off of her clothes, scanning the room as if looking for someone. She spotted Ben and grinned widely, striding over to their table and clasping his hand warmly.

After her reunion with Ben, she glanced and Shanks. "Mr. Jetsam, I presume?" Miss Flotsam said, stretching her hand out to the red-haired man that sat, drinking rum. He took it, grinning widely, and shook it sharply.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Flotsam." The pirate said. "Our meeting is long overdue." She snorted, grabbing a chair and roughly swung it around and straddling it. Ben stopped a waitress and ordered more drinks.

"You're telling me!" Flotsam said, fanning herself with Shanks' trademark straw hat. After gulping down Ben's drink, she fixed Shanks with a stare. "So, what's the latest 'business venture' you're suggesting anyways?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

Shanks leaned forward, all business. "Miss Flotsam, have you by any chance heard any rumors about Zermatt Island?" The thief nodded. Throughout history, many islands had been the famed locations of great wealth, buried beneath sand or sunken deep under water. Cutthroat Island….the Isla de Muerta…and perhaps the most famed of all, the one said to hide treasure of value equal to Gold Roger's 'One Piece'…Zermatt Island.

Intrigued, Miss Flotsam folded her arms. "Am I right in assuming that you fancy yourself as knowing the location of Zermatt, Mr. Jetsam?" She asked, her eyes shining in excitement.

Shanks smiled. He stood up, offering his hand to her with a flourish. "Follow me, Miss Flotsam, and you will have wealth beyond your wildest dreams."