Tension claimed the air. Anticipation, its neighbor, incessantly stood watching. Both observed as a tan man appeared in a puff of blue flames. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"We haven't found him yet, Pops. But we think it was those pirates that took him, eh."

A sigh. The tanned man shared in the solemnity of it. The anticipation quickly turned into disappointment as Whitebeard frowned. Clutching the barrel of his rum slightly harder, he nodded.

"I see. Have you heard from any of the others? Ace, Jozu, Thatch?"

"Yea. They couldn't find anything either. Came to the same conclusion as me, eh."

Marco watched his Captain, patiently awaiting orders.

"Have Jozu and Thatch continue the search. I want you and Ace to stay and help me find out who those pirates were."

"Got it."

Another puff of flames later and Marco was gone. Whitebeard momentarily shut his eyes as he took a drink of his rum. It wasn't unusual for pirates to suddenly disappear. Especially not in the New World, where the seas were unpredictable and vast. But something about the casualness of his son Michael's disappearance unnerved him. It was one of those peculiar feelings; the kind that built up consistently, gradually sneaking its way into the nest of logical thoughts in one's head. A feeling that implied there was a reason behind its, hinted the reason, but refused to reveal it.

Something told Whitebeard that this wasn't just one of many disappearances. Who was he to question his gut feeling?

So he was resolved to find Michael no matter what. And if it meant back-tracking a little, then so be it. As a man of honor, he would do anything for his children.

Sometime later, perhaps a few days, he found himself in the company of a strange situation. On an island, while gathering necessary supplies, Michael could be seen standing on a cliff. That was unexpected but by no means the strange part. No, the strange part was that Michael held a stick in his hand and was pointing it at a group of people in such a serious manner; one would think he was threatening to kill them. Whitebeard would have laughed at how childish it seemed, but was too focused on the other people.

There were two total, covered head to toe in black-hooded robes. One was female, one male. Judging by the stiffness of their stances and the wild expression on Michael's face, this was a very critical moment.

In two to three strides Whitebeard swiftly climbed the cliff. He'd be damned if he let anything happen to one of his sons right in front of him!

"Michael, my son." He called

The young trio froze, eyes jumping easily to the massive form of Whitebeard. He smirked, feeling a secret satisfaction at being able to interrupt any kind of moment.

"Old man…!" Michael gaped, wild expression never dying.

"Are these two brats causing you trouble?" Ever the confident one, Whitebeard shifted a cynical eye upon the two robed people.

He wasn't sure what happened next. Something beyond his understanding, definitely. But as soon as he locked gazes with hazel eyes, everything went black. He hadn't even felt his body hit the floor. He hadn't heard any voices, hadn't seen any offensive movement made against him. Hell, he hadn't even felt any pressuring pain. The only certain reality was him waking up in the familiar sanctity of his bedroom with a couple of nurses standing about.

Upon his awakening the nurses rushed to his side, checking this and that, corroborating on what, possibly, could have happened. He had no concussion, no headache, no injury. It would seem he suffered from a fainting spell.

"You were probably exhausted." One nurse suggested. Whitebeard scoffed.

"I may be old, but I'm not that old."

At that moment his four main commanders rushed in, all in some form anxious.

"What happened?" Ace blurted, settling himself on top of an end table rather hastily.

"Are you alright, Pops?" Thatch asked, exhibiting a little more restraint than Ace.

"Yea, I'm alright." Whitebeard answered gruffly. "Takes more than a little black-out to take me down."

He could see relief wash over his sons, a desired effect. He continued.

"While we were on that island, did any of you see some hooded people?"

Marco tilted his head to the side. "I saw two of them. They were running off somewhere, eh."

"Yea…" Jozu nodded his agreement. "I saw 'em too."

"Did they do this to you?" Ace was frowning, presumably trying to recall if he had seen this hooded people.

"Might've." Whitebeard shrugged. "I saw them with Michael."

"Michael?" Thatch raised his eyebrows. "Surely we'd have seen the lad if he were there?"

"I'm telling you he was there. I saw him in some kind of confrontation with them." Whitebeard paused, frowning. "We're going back to that island."

It was agreed that they would re-commence their search at that nameless island. It was pretty small so interrogating the citizens for information shouldn't take long. One week, at most.

It was morning. The sun's first vision of light was soft. A crisp wind made its way casually through the little island. Marco sat against a tree, boredom scrawled all over his face. A few days have passed since their return to this little island. They must have searched every inch for any inkling of Michael; all in vain.

The boy seems to have disappeared once again. Of the two robed people, no one knows them. It was questionable whether they existed or not; an early onset of dementia could cause old people to hallucinate… But Marco had faith in his Captain, despite his old age. If he said he saw them, he would believe him.

Marco sighed, wondering what could be done. Just forgetting about Michael wouldn't be the right thing to do. He was kin. Forgetting him would be the same as killing him. But they had no leads to his whereabouts. Not the slightest clue.

And it was precisely those thoughts running through Marco's mind later that almost made him miss it. The unnoticed movement along the edge of the nearby forest. The figure, unfamiliar in every sense, emerging so casually that it blended in with the crowd. It was a girl from what he could see.

"Oy, girlie!" Marco approached her coolly. She stopped, eyebrows perched high on her forehead.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You new to town?" he tried to keep himself as smooth as possible, not wanting the girl to get defensive. God knows, they can be over-dramatic.

"Yes. I've been here for three days." She drawled lightly, boredly, droopy eyes fixed on him.

"Really? Where're you from, eh?"

"You're awfully curious." She blinked, eyebrows still up high.

"Excuse me for being nosy. But I haven't seen you not once around these parts in the past three days. It strikes me as a little funny."

"Do you mind telling me what exactly you're accusing me of?" the girl maintained a light tone, bland expression not once flickering.

"I'm not accusing you of nothing."

"I doubt that. Unless this is a new way to flirt with girls, I would very much appreciate it if you came out and said it."

Sensing no anger and noting her lack of indignant reaction Marco decided to consent.

"A friend of mine disappeared a while back. Kidnapped. He was last seen with two hooded people. One was a girl, if you catch my drift."

"Dear me, kidnapped? It's such a shame that that sort of thing happens to older men." The girl sighed softly. Marco frowned, staring her straight in the eye.

"You wouldn't know anything of it, would you?"

"No." she stated. "To answer you're first question, sir, I am a traveler. I come from nowhere. As for your accusation, let me assure you I have no such desire to kidnap myself a travel-buddy. But feel free to follow me until that suspicion goes away; I've nothing to hide." She shrugged.

Marco's frown didn't leave right away. She didn't seem to be lying… she was relaxed and seemed pretty agreeable. He couldn't, however, rid himself of his suspicions. There was something about the whole thing that he just didn't like.

Of course he wasn't going to stand here all day questioning her. He would simply observe her and act if she does anything odd. He might even get someone from his division to help him. He smiled, folding his arms across his chest.

"Alright, girlie. I'll let you go."

"Thank you. But my name isn't girlie. It's Siren." A bored smile climbed her face slowly, languidly.

"My bad, eh. I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm sure you will, Marco the Phoenix."

Siren proceeded to walk away, hands hanging lazily from her pockets, eyebrows never descending from that spot on her forehead. Marco blinked, surprised that such a young person could recognize him. He was more surprised, if not slightly insulted, that she didn't freak out about it. Only increasing his unease, it prompted him to report to his Captain.

Whitebeard, sitting in one of the public bars with his crew, seemed to be thinking over everything he just heard. The other high ranking commanders exchanged glances.

"Siren's her name?" Ace blinked, leaning back in his chair. "Sounds familiar, don't it?"

"Of course it's familiar. Thatch took a sip from his mug. "If you read the paper like I keep telling you to, you would know about Wicked Witch Siren."

At this Marco let out an involuntary scoff., amused.

"She makes me uneasy but she doesn't give off that "wicked" vibe. She was more "hippie" than "cruel"." He mused.

"Looks can be deceiving." Ace shrugged. With a grin, he continued, "I mean, looking at you no one would ever guess you're still a virgin."

As they all laughed, Marco twitched. "Lay off, eh!"

Smirking, Whitebeard looked at his first commander. "The kiddo has a point; don't believe what you see."

The Captain waited for the laughter to die down before speaking again.

"This girl… did you see where she's lodging?"

"Yea. A hotel near the coast." A disgruntled Marco replied.

"What're you planning, Pops?" Jozu raised an eyebrow.

"I think I'll pay the little lady a visit."

Siren Vàrgaz

18

Devil Fruit User

Wanted For Treason Against World Government

Wanted For Murder Of Marine Commodore Jepson

Wanted For Theft

Wanted For Destruction Of Public Property

Bounty:

200,000,000 berri

"That's her alright." Marco mumbled. They (the main commanders) sat huddled around a wanted poster of Siren. Marco had instantly recognized her droopy (hazel) eyes, the long and wavy (caramel chocolate) hair, and the (always) upraised eyebrows. She looked younger in this particular snapshot, peering at them through the glasses perched so precariously on the edge of her nose, an amused look lining her face.

"Was it such a good idea to let Pops go alone?" Thatch was rubbing his chin, a preoccupied frown tugging the corner of his lips.

"I don't see why not. Two-hundred mil is nothing for him." Ace shrugged, eyes never moving from the poster.

"Yea, I get you, but if she really is the hooded crusader he'll black out again."

"Nah, he won't. Pops won't fall for the same trick twice, eh."

The concern felt by Thatch was, in fact, unneeded. Siren was as calm and agreeable with their Captain as she had been with the First Division's Commander. The fact that Whitebeard had chosen to come speak with her was by no means a surprise; somehow she came to expect it after her little morning confrontation. And Siren, weary of conflict and trouble, had no desire to pick a fight with such a gigantic mountain.

"As I told your son Marco, I had nothing to do with the disappearance." She drawled in her light tone, casually leaning back in her seat.

"I'm aware of what you told him. But tell me, are you really the Wicked Witch?"

"I suppose I am."

"You suppose?"

"Yes. I am a witch, no doubt, but I lost track of what people call me now-a-days."

Whitebeard chuckled, the ever perpetual smirk stretching his face.

"A bit cheeky, aren't you, brat?"

She shrugged boredly, flicking some hair over her shoulder.

"If you say so, sir." After a moment she let a slight smile play up her cheeks. "Surely that's not all you wanted to know? I couldn't imagine you coming all the way over here just for idle chit chat."

"You got that right." His smirk died down a little, giving way to a more serious attitude. "Do you know of the Wicca Pirates, girl?"

Siren huffed, amusement more pronounced than ever. Her eyebrows would have raised higher if they weren't already at their limit.

"Cute. Very cute. Because I'm a witch you assume I'm acquainted with them. Is that it?"

"Not quite, but something along those lines."

"Yes." She sighed softly. "I know of the Wicca Pirates. No, I am not associated with them. Did you know they aren't even real wizards?"

"…and you are?"

"Yes. I don't have Devil Fruit powers like they do, nor as the Government claims. Mine are actually magical."

"Is that so?" the disbelief was fairly evident.

"Well, you could do the old witch test; throw me in water. If I sink, I'm a liar; If I swim, I'm a witch."

"Gurarara, I would love nothing more than to throw you in water, but that's not important right now, brat. Just tell me if you know how to find them."

"Oh. Are you looking for them?"

"They're my main suspects."

"Ah, what a coincidence. They're my main suspects as well."

Whitebeard raised an eyebrow, frowning.

"What're you on about?"

"I have my own personal problems to which they seem connected to. I've been following them but they're much too fast for me." She sighed, her light drawl coated with self-disappointment.

"Really now?"

Eyeing her up and down, Whitebeard smirked. "Let's strike a deal. You show me how to get to them and I'll bring you along."

"Why should I trust you…?" she mused.

"I'm a man of honor. I won't do anything to you unless you provoke me to."

"And you're crew…?"

"They're a good bunch who'll leave you alone. How about it? We share a common goal, after all."

For the first time since he's been there, her eyebrows lowered to a (ordinarily) normal spot.

"Very well, on the condition that I may leave to do… errands… and not have to answer any nosy questions."

"You're free to do what you want s'long as you do your end of the bargain."

Siren nodded. "Understood. When do you plan to set sail?"

"Tomorrow. Be ready by then, girl."

With all said and done, Whitebeard left the young witch alone. Inwardly he enjoyed a small victory. He was very much honest about his claim of the Wicca Pirates being the main suspects to this annoying mystery. And he did have every intention of investigating whether they were innocent or not. However, he was just as keen to keep an eye on the girl. Those hazel eyes bore a strong resemblance to the ones he saw before blacking out all those days ago. By having her on his ship while he searched for the Wicca Pirates, he was killing two birds with one stone. If she was innocent or if she was guilty, he would soon find out.

A/N- And so ends the first chapter! This is the longest I have ever made a first chapter be… wow.

I think it only fair to warn you readers I may not be able to update every week. I might have to do a bi-weekly update, if anything (please understand, I go to a magnet art school which works me like a dog. So sad… ). It's been a long while since I've written a story so I'm a bit rusty… bare with me! :D

Also, if a month goes by and I still haven't updated, I recommend you bombard me with hate mail. It'll guilt me into updating, I guarantee!

Please review! Constructive critiques are appreciated.

**Disclaimer- One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda, not me. This story, Siren, Michael, and the plot belong to me.**