Brew Island.
Many had heard of it, but few knew where it was. It was within an obscure, little-traveled corner of the Old World; close to the dangerous Calm belt, and on a clear day, the Red Line was just visible. Its obscurity made it safe; ideal to start a family, or just start a new life.
Or for those wanting a good cup of tea. The Peppermint was to die for.
Paradoxically, Brew Island was also prosperous. Its forests were rich with timber of many kinds; their seeds brought by birds migrating over the Red Line. The mountain at its center produced a constant flow of clear, pure water; ideal for the brewing of liquor. Ale, beer, grog, whiskey; all were brewed in vast quantities, and shipped from Brew Island by the shipload. All who wanted a good drink, be they Pirate or Marine, paid under the table and inquired no further.
She had been on the island for the last twenty-four hours; she and her escorts. During that time, she had found no sign of anything connecting this place to the Emperors or the World Government. They wanted to sell their booze to anyone and everyone.
And that was that.
She got up, and looked to her companions. "Wait here, I'll be right back," she said, then strode across the busy boulevard. All around, happy people strolled here and there, wandering in and out of the restaurants, bars, and cafes; all of them serving Brew Island beverages.
Her target was a simple bookstore. She stepped inside, and lowered her hood; revealing coiffed pink hair.
"Excuse me," she called out, trying not to sound too commanding. The man behind the counter; the owner she presumed, perked up at her voice.
"Ah, good day miss," he greeted her, smiling warmly. There was a ring on his finger, and on the wall behind him a photo; showing himself, a woman, and some children. His family, no doubt.
How nice.
She gave the bookseller a vague description off the top of her head, playing the tourist, and he was quick to oblige. With her intended book in hand, and paid for, she thanked the man and strode out. She hid the book under her cloak - beside the satchel containing several millions of berries in unmarked notes - and returned to her seat at the cafe, where her companions and her tea waited. It was still hot.
She looked around again, taking in the scene; keeping her thoughts from her face.
This bustling, prosperous, happy town. Why, oh why, did they have to build it right at the foot of that mountain? Of all place!
"It's time, my lady," said one of her companions, in a low and emotionless tone. "Time to make the call."
She eyed the man, for want of a better word, and felt a sudden urge to snap his neck. He would not resist. None of them would. They would stand there, loyal, obedient, silent, while she killed every last one of them. They all would, and sometimes she wished she could.
But that would be a waste of resources, of valuable assets. That was what he would, and technically he would be right. Their deaths would be valueless, meaningless, serving no useful purpose; let alone the cause.
His cause.
As she stood up, her eye fell on a newspaper being read by one of her fellow customers. Another report on the Reverie; there had been little else for the past fortnight. She hadn't bothered to read any of the newspapers. She already knew more than those journalists ever would.
For her father was there, as he was always there; this time with two of her brothers in tow. She already knew what he planned to do there; for he had told her so himself. Her father trusted few, and she ranked high in that small circle.
She stepped out of the cafe, and into an alleyway nearby; pulling out a transponder snail. The snail's eyes opened, and her eyebrows rose as she saw who it was.
"You're back," she said in surprise.
"It wasn't a long trip from Mariejois to the staging ground. Is Brew Island associated with any of the Emperors?"
She was silent.
"Reiju. Answer me." She felt the chill in her spine as her brain, her body, complied.
"We see no flag of theirs on any building or structure," answered Vinsmoke Reiju." It's a free island."
"Good. Mt. Glugg is a vast mountain. One rich with resources to fuel our Empire," said her father, Vinsmoke Judge. "What are the island's defenses?"
"Minimal. A few armed caravels, and some militia. No sign of a Marine base."
"Being so close to the Red Line and the Calm Belt, they thought no one would notice them. The fools." The snail smirked. "Very well, return to your ship and rendezvous with the fleet. The detachment is underway, and should be starting in about an hour."
"You're not coming yourself?"
"The clones can handle this one," Judge replied. "You had a chance to stretch your legs and do reconnaissance. You're far better at that than your brothers."
"Understood. I'll rendezvous within North Blue."
If Ichiji, Niji, or Yonji had heard her father's compliment, they'd be chomping at the bit to try and right the wrong. After all, no woman should be able to outdo a man at warfare; even if she was their sister, a Vinsmoke of Germa.
So they had been taught, all their lives.
"Very well. Take the route along the Red Line, and go high too. The Cruiser will be easy pickings for the Sea Kings if they're two hundred meters off the ground."
"Yes Father." Reiji ended the call, sighed, and strode back to her companions.
"We return to the ship, and to their cruiser in the Luneshine Atoll," she ordered, her father's words echoing inside her. "Flanking speed."
"Yes My Lady." The two Clone Troopers bowed and fell in behind her, walking side by side. As she strode down the boulevard towards the docks, she could see the faint outline in the distance. The towering Red Line, hidden behind murky clouds. No doubt the Snail Cruisers of the Germa 66 were there, slithering along its vast side, safe from the dangers of the sea; until the time was right to descend, and make their approach.
By the time that happened, she would be long gone; on her way back to the North Blue. She would not see or hear any of it.
But she knew what was coming. She had seen it, done it, often enough in her twenty years of life. As a Princess of Germa, and a commander of the Germa 66.
As Poison Pink.
She reached the ship, and climbed on board. With a nod, the crew set to work; casting off from the dock, and steering out of the harbor. She looked back as her nameless ship sailed on, her clone crew carrying out their tasks. She watched, her face a porcelain mask, as Brew Island slipped slowly, gently into the distance. It was almost as if it was waving to her, bidding her a cheerful farewell
She lifted the book from under her cloak. It was a habit she had built over the years. Whenever she was sent to this mission, she would buy a local cookbook and bring it back with her. Then, at night, in secret, she would memorize the recipes, the ingredients. She dared not enter a kitchen, but in her mind, at least, those dishes would live on.
It wasn't much. It was pathetic, really. But it was all she could do; the only good thing left to her in this world.
And the only way she could still connect with her little brother, wherever he may be.
'Mother. Please forgive me,' she thought as Brew Island vanished from sight. 'You too. Sanji…'
(X)
Old Lyn glanced up at the grandfather clock, and down at the Transponder Snail in her hand.
It sat there, blank-faced, ringing away. But no one answered. Why wouldn't Trent answer?
"He should have answered by now…" she muttered, glancing at the pot of clam chowder sitting on the stove.
She should call Mayor Bartleby. He and Trent were good poker buddies, and it was Bart who put Trent onto this task; given his love for being a Seamster and being around nature in general.
She put the snail back on the rack, and took out another; feeding it some broccoli as she dialed.
"Ring Ring Ring Ring. Ring Ring Ri-Click." The Snail's face changed. "Mrs Lyn? What's the matter?"
"Oh Bart, sorry about this." She frowned. "I've tried calling Trent, but that dumb ole husband of mine isn't picking up!" She huffed. "He's either taking a nap or too engrossed in his work. His dinner is getting cold!"
"Strange, he usually answers," Bart mused. "I'll go and fetch him myself. I can use the exercise."
"Oh, to be young again." She smiled. "I wouldn't want to impose on you at all. But if that's what you want to do I can't stop sir." She reached over to turn down the stove. "You know where to find the Lighthouse Station, yes?"
"Ma'am, my father helped make that trail. I'll go check on Trent and give you a call back."
"Take your time dear!" Lyn hung up, and sighed. It was probably nothing; nothing Bartlby couldn't handle anyway. And he would never mind doing it.
She looked along the wall, at the photos lining it. Her and her husband, all through the years. When they were young, when they got married, when they opened their little café; and into their twilight years.
She had been pretty back then, when she was younger. Like that pink-haired lass who had stopped by for some tea, just before closing. She'd been quite pretty too.
And then the windows lit up.
(X)
Brewloors Bartlby hummed happily to himself, as he strolled along the boulevard.
He liked going on mountain walks. He could stay close to nature, work up a good burn, and keep his fiancee Rose from nagging at him to hit the Gym Yards. And a chance to check on Trent and their little project was not to be passed up.
His route took him to the end of the boulevard, where a sign pointed out the mountain trail. He paused, adjusted his beanie, and looked up the trail. Up there, just visible, was the shack where Trent was working. He frowned, when he saw that the lights were off.
Perhaps he was still up at the building site, working on the island's new lighthouse. The project had caused some excitement on Brew Island, if only because Edward Newgate, the Pirate Emperor Whitebeard himself, had kindly provided the materials. Whitebeard was a fan of Brew Island grog, and very much wanted the island under his flag.
That couldn't happen, of course. If it did, they could no longer sell to Government-aligned islands, or the Red Hair Pirates. They paid well, and being so close to the Calm Belt and the Red Line paid dividends. No pirates ever wandered by; if only for fear of getting stuck in the Calm Belt, or blown right into the Red Line.
Not being a man of the sea, Bartlby didn't know which fate would be worse.
On a whim, he glanced back along the boulevard; taking in all the stores where the island's breweries sold their prized alcohol. The closest was Adolly's; a popular beer, and his personal favorite, especially the Banquet kind.
Yes, this was a good place, and a good life. As the Mayor of a wealthy island, he lived well; with a good salary, plenty of free samples, and a nice house at the nice end of town. A good place to settle down, and to live.
He sighed, and started up the trail. Even with the light fading, he made his way without difficulty; having walked it his entire life. The stones were firm under his feet, and the wind warm on his face. He wondered what on earth could have kept Trent from his wife and her cooking?
A boom, like a thunderclap, echoed around him. Birds flew from the trees, chittering and cawing. Bartlby paused, frowning. There hadn't been any sign of a thunderstorm. What was making that noise?
Then another boom. And another. Startled, Bartlby started back down the trail. Had there been an accident at one of the breweries? Or had the militia's gunpowder gone up again? If so, he was going to have stern words with the Marshal about it. Gunpowder was expensive!
Then he saw.
Adolly's distillery was a fireball, flaming beer running down the boulevard. Then another one exploded, and another. Half the boulevard had been blasted apart, reduced to smoke and burning wreckage. People were racing out of the buildings, some trying to fight the fires, others standing and staring.
Bartlby did the same, his blood turned to ice, his whole body frozen. What was this? What was going on? Why was his hometown exploding like this?
Then he saw them. Ten shapes on the sea, moving slowly towards the docks, beams of light reaching out, sweeping over the docks and the nearby buildings.
His mouth dropped open, as he saw them clearly. They were snails; enormous snails, with what looked like castles on their backs, and the light coming from their eyestalks. He could see the black muzzles of cannon atop the towers and bastions, and poking out of gun ports. And atop the tallest tower of every snail-castle, he could see the same flag; black, with a long white cross and a black cross set within it, and a number.
66
Down in the docks, the militia were gathering; trying to get their caravels underway. One of them was moving, easing out into the harbor, its crew struggling to ready its single cannon.
A crack from atop one of the snails, a whoosh, and then the caravel blew apart; splinters of wood flying all around. More cracks, more whooshes, and its sisters vanished in clouds of smoke, burning wreckage flying all over the docks. Further inland, more buildings exploded, more breweries and distilleries and outlet stores, more shops and restaurants and cafes, and homes.
Bartlby swayed, almost falling to his knees. He could hear the flames, hear his neighbors screaming as they tried to save their town, or to escape, or just went mad with fear. He could feel the wind of the blasts buffeting him, smell the alcohol, and the burning.
His home was being destroyed. His people, the people who had made him Mayor, were being killed. People like Lyn, and all his staff.
And Rose…
'I'm sorry!'
And Bartlby ran, scurrying away into the woods. Shells hit the mountainside, blasting great holes in the rock and earth, setting the trees on fire. One of them fell, crashing down the mountainside towards him. It was all he could do to get out of its way, the heat scorching him as it passed.
He ran on. There was nothing he could do, no way to stop what was happening. His only hope was Trent, and his Transponder Snails. They had to call Whitebeard, or maybe Red Hair's people. It was their only chance!
Before him, the mountainside erupted. He staggered to a halt, and tried to evade, but the ground gave way below his feet, toppling him down the slope. Down and down he rolled, his mind a blank, rocks, mud, and burning trees flying all around him. He crashed to a stop, and cried out as something heavy landed on top of him, crushing his legs and waist.
He lay still, his vision hazy; his body a mass of pain. He could not feel his legs any more. He could hear more explosions, more cries, as Brew Island was slowly destroyed.
With a trembling hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pocket watch; the ceremonial watch that marked him as the Mayor of Brew Island. And the photo inside of his beloved fiance.
Rose…
He did not see the burning tree falling towards him. And he only briefly felt the pain as it crushed his skull.
-X-
Brew Island burned, and the Germa 66 made its first official conquest in the New World.
Far away, off the coast of Winner Island, within the Vivre Card Room of the Moby Dick, a card burned to ash. Belonging to Brewloors Bartlby, Mayor of Brew Island.
Acclimation Arc has ended.
The North Blue Saga, or the Germa 66 Arc, is about to begin.
I wrote this up, and big thanks to Juubi-K , IKnowNothing , and WildJoker000 for their help on this one.
We did have plans for a key character to join our duo, but after much deliberation with IKN, we decided to remove the character from the narrative as she offered nothing to help with our future crew.
And that character was Carina from Film GOLD, who would have been 15 years old and stopping by on her way to East Blue. She would have been one of the sole survivors of the Germa Invasion hiding under debris. We thought she'd fit a theif like role, but Izuku can do all the stealth she can do. She's a good singer but... Uta is better. And a certain character you see in this chapter can do the femme fatale role better too, and that, if she joins, is Reiju.
So she got cut. But hey, she's likely in East Blue hanging with Nami right now. So consider that. and for the record, Brew Island did business with everyone else in selling their booze, but they at least had some business contact with Whitebeard(he name dropped Brew Island as his favorite grog distributor too). As for why the Germa attacked this island? Was listed in here again, plus additional reasons you'll find down the line.
Now to go on a little break. got to roadmap this arc now. Got Part 1 figured out a bit. Got to handle part 2, and also give BDC and FFESS some love.
Anyways, hope you all enjoy this one, and are excited for whats to come.