Author: Heya! I decided to try my hand at a One Piece fanfic - of sorts. This story is gonna focus around a group of pirates who become active around the time of the Battle of Marineford. It'll mostly focus on a group of OC pirates, but it'll still contain a lot of references to canon. Hell, I'm certain some canon characters will show up here and there. So without further ado, here's the story!

"I can't believe it… It really happened…"

A hooded man sat on a stool by the counter, his miso soup and darjeeling tea sitting in front of him as his eyes rested on the article in the newspaper in his hands. There, on the page, was the vivid image of an Emperor even as he stood dead on his feet. It sent a chill down his spine as he looked upon the image, as though the man was about to reach out from the image at any moment. It was so unbelievable that one might be forgiven for thinking the article was a fake - after all, in spite of his mortality and age, this man was so legendary it seemed unfathomable that he could ever be stopped.

It hadn't taken long for news to circle the whole world following Whitebeard's death – indeed, it was almost as if for a moment the world had stopped turning. If the world ever did start turning again, none were sure there would be anything to stop the chaos flooding in once more. After all, this man was like a God who ruled over the seas. Without him to sit upon the throne, what was to come next? The hooded man could only imagine it.

"Good riddance to the bastard! Who the hell did he think he was, playing at being an emperor?" one man remarked aloud. The hooded man turned in his seat, looking towards a table in the restaurant where a couple of men sat together. The entirety of the restaurant - and indeed, the island itself - had been engaged in the discussion of Whitebeard's death as soon as the news reached the shores. That is, if something including so much alcohol could really be called discussion.

"Hey, he might've been a bastard, but look at it this way – what happens now? He's left an empty seat behind him. You really think no one's gonna be gunning for that seat?" another man remarked with surprising tact before taking a swig of his own drink.

"You think the Marines can't do shit?" the first man bellowed with fury, as though it was attack on him. He slammed his fist down on the table strongly to emphasize his point. "If Pirates come, the Marines'll send 'em packing!".

"Yeah, just like Blackbeard was!"

"Smart-mouthed little-!"

The two men were up on their feet in an astonishingly short amount of time for two men who'd drunk so much liquor. Glasses crashed to the floor as the two began to swing at each other. There was a sudden uproar as people tried to separate them, but to no avail. The men quickly grasped at each other in a grapple as they attempted to wrestle the other to the ground. The hooded man back at the counter sighed as he watched them, shaking his head. He stared up at them, his eyes narrowing upon them.

The men continued to fight and smack one another, but a few moments passed as their movements turned sluggish. People began to stop, watching with fascination as the two soon began to collapse, hitting the ground just as they both tried to swing at one another. People began to stare, looking between one another as they wondered what had happened to the two men.

As people gasped, shocked by how the both of them suddenly fainted, the hooded man turned back to his newspaper. Even if he didn't usually care for what alcoholics said and did, they did have a point – in all likelihood, this open seat left behind by Whitebeard was open for the taking. Every Pirate in the Grand Line was going to be gunning for the position.

"What a relief – the both of them must have passed out from all the alcohol. I'm getting sick of having to deal with them every night," a voice spoke up from behind the counter. Putting down his newspaper, the hooded man looked over to the woman behind the counter as she cleaned a glass.

"They must come quite often..." he muttered, looking the woman in the eyes. She possessed a pair of brown eyes to match her short, brown hair. Her figure was fairly round and curvy and, along with her tall height, made her seem even larger than she truly was. She wore a short-sleeved black shirt and trousers with a white apron, befitting her role as cook and server. She was watching the scene of the men being carried away by their friends, sighing.

"They do. It's getting bad – I mean, I know we have a bar as well, but this is a restaurant and they're turning away the families that come here each night," she commented, sighing as she put away a glass and picked up another one to clean.

"They aren't wrong, however. Whitebeard's death isn't going to be forgotten. This world is going change a lot," the hooded man remarked.

"The only change I want is a new-"

"Oi, Alyona! I'm gonna need you to work extra shifts for the next week!" a voice called out. Looking over, the hooded man and the plump woman caught sight of the restaurant's manager – a short, balding man with a thick handlebar mustache.

"But you said I was only working late-night-"

"Hey, hey, are you complaining? I've just had another server quit on me. It's your job to cover the slack!" the manager told her before running back through the kitchen doors. The girl didn't even get a chance to respond as she let out a groan, rolling her eyes.

"… Bad boss?" the hooded man inquired.

"The kind that demands a portion of my tips go to him," she responded, sighing. "You know, you look very suspicious with that hood on indoors".

"Hey, I did only just come in from the rain," the hooded man remarked as he grasped hold of the hood. Pulling the fabric down he revealed himself to be a young man in his early twenties with blue eyes and a head of black, unkempt hair. Across the bridge of his nose was a thin scar. "The name's Baldric. Give my compliments to the chef for this soup".

"You're looking at her," Alyona responded, smirking. "And you're welcome".

"Oh really?" Baldric remarked, his lips curling. "You know, if you're really unhappy with your boss, I'm actually looking for a chef right now – for a crew".

"Oh, are you a merchant?" Alyona asked, a brow raised. "You don't look like a Marine".

"Well, actually-"

Baldric was interrupted as a large crash rang out. Everyone in the restaurant and bar turned to look towards a broken window and an upturned table. Food crashed to the floor as plates were smashed on the ground.

Lying in the middle of the mess was a tall and lean figure with tanned skin and long, black hair. Across his body were stripes a couple shades darker than the rest of his skin and covering his figure were raggedy old clothes. His hands and feet were webbed and right now he was snarling, baring sharpened teeth as he pushed himself off the ground.

He did not look happy.

"Look alive, men! He's just been spotted at a local restaurant! Move it!"

A small child with a head of pale blonde hair wearing a green kimono looked out from the window of her current lodgings. Before her she saw a group of Marines racing past in the rain, rushing about with their swords and rifles. The island had been alive tonight with not only talk of the recent battle between Whitebeard and the Marines but the rampage of a wild man running across the island. She hadn't seen the wild man herself, but the scene before her confirmed it. Marines were speaking to one another on their Den Den Mushi and organizing themselves in formations, racing through the streets.

"Can't an old woman get some quiet? What's going on out there?" a haggard voice spoke. The girl turned to see her grandmother – a woman of 74 years clad in a grey sweater and a blue coat buttoned up at the front. Her trousers were black, tucked into thick boots whilst around her neck was a red cravat. Her hair was a silvery-grey, tied back in a ponytail. In her bony hand she clutched a cane firmly.

"I overheard them talking, Obaa-san" the young girl spoke. "Apparently there's a Fishman who showed up out of nowhere and started fighting against the Marines for no reason".

"Well, lets hope he hasn't destroyed the sushi stand down the street," the old woman remarked as she grasped a blue hat the same shade as her coat.

"Sushi tonight again?" the young girl spoke, not really a question so much as pointing out the obvious. The old woman nodded.

"We can't afford a big meal in a restaurant every other night. You know that, Madoka…" the old woman responded as she turned, walking towards the door. "Now, when you've had your dinner, you'll need to go to bed. Tomorrow morning we have to get up early to catch our boat".

"I know, Obaa-san…" the girl replied. Shortly afterwards the old woman left, shutting the door behind her. Sitting alone in the hotel room, the girl sighed and rested against the window ledge, looking out.

It was still raining outside, with the ground turning muddy and wet from the downpour. Madoka thought over the events ahead. She was just a child, but even she couldn't help but think that setting sail in these times was going to be a lot more dangerous. Her grandmother was never one to hide things from her if they affected her safety. She was always protective, but sometimes Madoka felt she seemed a bit too protective - as though she was in constant worry something bad might happen. When the young girl thought about her grandmother, the idea that something could go wrong seemed insane. Her grandmother never really seemed worried about anything, despite her protectiveness.

But leaving those thoughts aside, the young girl stood up and walked across the room to where her grandmother had been sitting moments before, having left a large tome behind her. It was a book on Navigation – one her grandmother had carefully written over the years. As Madoka opened the book, she looked at the diagrams and read the words to herself, absorbing all the information.

Madoka had always wanted to see the world. Ever since she was a little girl – or rather, a littler girl – she'd wanted to see the world and observe the sights her grandmother always told her about from her own voyages. As of late they'd finally gotten the chance to carry out that task as she travelled across the Grand Line with her grandmother. However, when Madoka thought about the reasons for their journey now, she couldn't help but frown. They weren't just running about having an adventure, Madoka reminded herself. They had a job to do.

"Tch, problem after problem… I swear, ever since that old man kicked the bucket we've had our hands full!" a man griped as he walked through the rain, one of his Lieutenants holding an umbrella over his head. He wore his Marine Coat with the word Justice printed on the back, which fluttered behind him as he walked through the rain. He wore a Marine cap as well, but underneath it all he wore a nice, white suit. On his hip rested a cutlass in its scabbard.

If there was a good word to describe Captain Tristan, it was probably "grouchy". His Marines had long since become accustomed to his ranting and grumbling, choosing to simple nod and say yes whenever he began rather than try to discuss problems with him. He usually listened eventually anyway. He found himself furiously struggling with a lighter for the cigarette between his teeth before angrily throwing the lighter to the ground, followed quickly by the cigarette. The Captain took off his cap for a moment to run a hand through his slicked-back brown hair before replacing the cap, turning to his Lieutenant.

"So, where is he?" he demanded to know, frowning. The Lieutenant, a bespectacled blond man, made no expression.

"He's still at the restaurant. He seems to have beaten both Ensign Jordan and Ensign Gardner," the Lieutenant responded.

"Wonderful. He just couldn't make it easy for us!" the Marine Captain spoke. "Well, it's a good thing he's already at the restaurant – When I'm done with him he'll be nothing but seafood!".

"Your wit never fails to entertain, Captain".

"Alright men, move it!" the Captain called out. Grasping their swords and guns tightly, they quickly followed behind as the Captain raced off, running down the road from the Marine base towards the restaurant. The Lieutenant followed close behind, his hand resting on a flintlock pistol in its holster on his right hip.

He wasn't certain why, but he had a bad feeling about tonight.

In the middle of the sea to the north of the island there sailed a large ship. It moved through the ocean silently as it neared Orsus Island like a phantasm. Its sails were pitch black, hidden amidst the dark clouds, and atop the largest mast was a black flag bearing the image of a skull and crossbones. The skull itself possessed horns and one of the crossbones was replaced with what appeared to be a club.

The ship itself was a large Galleon - a huge vessel armed with cannons. Mounted upon the deck in particular was a huge cannon, large enough to possess a special seat for manning the cannon. Carved into the side of the cannon's barrel were two words - "Giant Killer".

Everyone on the deck looked out towards the island with grins on their faces. A rotund and burly figure wearing a horned helmet smirked as he patted the cannon. Walking onto the deck was a taller, more muscular man wearing a pair of tiger-striped trousers and a black Pirate Captain's coat. Upon his head was a similar helmet, although the horns on his were like a bull's. Tied to his back with a strap was a large iron club that dangled mere inches off the ground. His lips curled into a smirk as he looked upon the island.

"Well boys, if we wanna make a name for ourselves, we gotta start somewhere, right?" the Pirate Captain spoke, smirking as he looked upon the island. Turning slightly towards the shorter, fat man, he spoke. "Kanabo, get on the cannon. It's only polite we introduce ourselves".

The fat man, Kanabo, grinned as he began to climb up into the cannon's seat. Tonight would be one hell of a night.

Author: Not much happened, I'll admit, but we got to see some of the main characters, as well as our first antagonist! I hope you liked the chapter! Please be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think :)