Cifer's Log, July 25th, 809 A.O.S.
10:00 A.M.
Finally! I must have misplaced this journal in my rush to confirm the identity of Cat Burglar Nami. I must say, I'm quite disappointed in myself. Nearly a full week of searching, and not once did I think to look under the bed.
It's been five days since I discovered the wreck, the creature, and the pirate. The wreck is still trashed, the creature still dead, and the pirate still comatose. None of my experiments have displayed any new or interesting behavior beyond their daily exercises (for more information on those, consult record sheets).
I buried all of the bodies from the ship, with help from Arpy, on July 21st. He dug a mass grave and helped me lower the corpses into it. Some I'll be keeping for further study, especially the remains with bitemarks.
I also made a disturbing discovery. One that, in my haste to find possible survivors, I had missed when first going through the ship. The former captain was none other than Vice Admiral Onigumo, one of the Navy's most proactive officers in the war against piracy.
During my time in the Solomon Facility with Dr. Vegapunk, I had the pleasure of meeting with many of the Navy's top commanders. Some, such as the amiable Momonga and the intelligent Jonathan, would even become good acquaintances of mine. But I would much rather call my time with Onigumo a displeasure. Perhaps knowing his power influenced my perception, but he always reminded me of the Atrax robustus, an ugly, venomous spider that resides in the caverns of the Singing Mountains of Sydney. He was a callous and brutish man that had no appreciation for scientific achievement, often terrorizing the interns with his cold stare whenever he visited. Even worse, he once put one of Dr. Noric's secretaries in intensive care when she joked that he should volunteer for the dissection labs.
Despite my dislike of the man, I would have never wished upon him such a horrid fate. His chest had been savagely shredded, and his spider legs snapped off at the joints. He was covered in a putrid slime that had melted the flesh from his human limps. Worst of all was his head, which was nearly two-dimensional, almost as if it had been…squished. Perhaps a fitting end to a spider-man, but a horrific one nonetheless. His face, or what was left of it, bore the look of all-consuming agony.
His body will be thoroughly studied and dissected in my facility, and will greatly assist in my efforts to understand the dead creature. The irony is bitter, yet strangely cathartic.
It just hit me that the creature was strong enough to defeat and maim a highly experienced Vice Admiral, one that had mastery over both types of haki.
I am suddenly very glad that it is dead.
There have been no signs of consciousness from the Cat Burglar. I'm not surprised, considering what she's been through, but still frustrated.
There isn't a lot of available information on her, despite her infamous status as the navigator of the Straw Hat Pirates. Her poster lists her bounty, affiliation, and charges, but nothing else. She's wanted for, and I quote:
"Thievery, brazen destruction of government property, brazen destruction of private property, illegal entry and exit, affiliation with other pirates, affiliation with others affiliated with other pirates, illegal smuggling, and declaring war on the World Government and all of its subsidiaries."
A somewhat redundant but accurate list, if you ask me. I know better than to trust everything the Government claims on a daily basis, but the Straw Hats are infamous enough to stand out on their own, without needless exaggeration. In fact, I'm surprised that the Cat Burglar's bounty is so low, considering the crew she is a part of.
Regarding her condition, I'm not entirely satisfied with her progress. The only things I can take pride in right now is my treatment of her right shoulder and skull, both of which have been wrapped and disinfected to the best of my ability. Liver notwithstanding, her other internal organs were so battered that they were on the verge of failure as well. And even with my power I couldn't do everything at once. "Too many cooks in the kitchen" is a phrase easily applicable to the operating theater. I decided to let them heal on their own, as too much interference can be detrimental, but it's low-going, to say the least. Even the drugs I've administered don't seem to be having much of an impact. I suspect malnutrition has something to do with her slow recovery. At the risk of sounding crude, her figure isn't as pronounced as the poster made it out to be.
The creature has been moved to my biggest storage unit. I double checked its vital signs and was slightly relieved to find that there were none. Even more so considering my stark realization just a few minutes ago.
I've removed the wooden pillar and performed a rudimentary procedure to stop whatever bleeding was still ongoing. I turned the storage area into a freezer to preserve the corpse, but I really must get to dissecting soon.
I honestly don't know why I've been putting it off. I've dealt with far worse. I think.
6:34 P.M.
Perhaps I will go on another expedition, to a more populated area. I think I need more people in my life, if only for a moment. After the Cat Burglar recovers and I turn her in, of course.
Arpy has been complaining about faulty wiring in his system. I checked it out, but found no reason for alarm. Just a simple jarring of the left-central A.P.P.P. core.
Cifer's Log, July 26th, 809 A.O.S.
7:34 P.M
A lot has happened today. Good think I found my journal.
The Molly Carnation's fruit withered, the remains becoming acidic in the process. At the same time, all of the faces on the tree began to bare identical smug expressions.
The damage to the room it was stored in is minimal but noticeable. I doubt I can repair it.
All members of the Lillianeus family possess low-level sentience, but I am still quite flabbergasted at the apparent insidiousness of this entire subsection of Kingdom Plantae. If reports are to be believed, the Lillianeus Carnaflexus can turn a group against each other through its pollen, raising aggression to sometimes murderous degrees. And that's only one of the genera.
If anyone reading this is interested in the Lillianeus family, I've included several copied pages of Moreen's Encyclopedia of Paradise Plant Life.
Cifer's Log, July 27th, 809 A.O.S.
8:09 P.M.
Something is very wrong with the Cat Burglar.
I was in the dragon's lair, as I have begun to call it, to check in on their progress. Both are growing rapidly, but not too rapidly. Vegapunk told me to release them into the wild exactly five months after hatching, but I wasn't sure if that applied to both the green one and the red one.
None of this is important in the context of today's event, however. The dragons were playing together, trying to nip each other's wings, when suddenly they both stiffened, and curled into themselves. Arpy and I rushed to their side, concerned. They were clearly scared out of their wits, shaking slightly as they covered their heads with their paws. It was almost comical, seeing such fearsome creatures act so frightful, but something was clearly wrong. Arpy began humming in order to calm them down, but it only had a marginal effect.
That's when I heard it.
A low, almost inaudible growl, the kind a dog makes when it's been cornered. And it was coming from the Cat Burglar's room. The dragon's lair was positioned right near the medical wing of my facility, so I was only a turn away from that horrible noise. The dragons continued to shake, while I, shaking a bit myself at that point, quietly walked to the room where the pirate was resting.
Cat Burglar Nami's face was set into a deep scowl, her lips peeled back as she snarled. I hesitantly walked over to her side and checked the monitors. Heart rate and blood pressure were the same, but her brain waves had changed slightly. They were no longer at 2 cps, but were now at 3.5, just a few decimals from becoming theta waves. Her brain had never shown this much activity before.
I turned around to alert Arpy, and found myself staring straight into the eyes of the Cat Burglar.
I'm embarrassed to write this, but I screamed. Loudly. I jumped back, then stiffened into a state of near petrification. Nami's eyes were no longer brown. The irises had blackened and the pupils were contracted. The sclera was a dull pink.
And then it was over. The eyes shifted back to their normal color and proportions, and Nami slipped back into a peaceful sleep. This occurred at exactly 3:43 P.M.
As soon as I had regained my senses, I immediately took a blood sample and analyzed it to death. Perhaps I've read too many werewolf novels, but I was concerned that there was some sort of cell mutation. Of the samples I analyzed, between 3:45 to 4:45, I found no oddities or deviations from Nami's cell structure.
After I exhausted myself analyzing blood samples, I began checking the monitors near constantly. I couldn't be sure if another incident was going to happen sooner rather than later. Arpy volunteered to watch over Nami while I rested.
I realized he was right and took a nap from 5:12 to 7:47. I think I had a nightmare. I returned to find Arpy at ease. He told me that there had only been one other incident, in which Nami had made a short coughing noise.
I will be dissecting the creature tomorrow in order to find out what the hell is going on. Cat Burglar's behavior is clearly abnormal; perhaps the fact that she came into contact with the monster has something to do with it.
Cifer's Log, July 28th, 809 A.O.S.
6:30 A.M.
Nami's vitals have improved since yesterday. I expect full consciousness within a week, a marked improvement over my opinion just yesterday. I will have to investigate further to see if what occurred on the 27th improved Nami's condition.
Hm, I just realized that I've referred to the Cat Burglar as only Nami for most of my latest entries. In the interest of preserving my hands comfortableness, I will refer to her as such from now on.
9:45 A.M.
From 7:00 to 9:30 sharp, I autopsied and experimented on the dead creature's body.
I found noth