Bruce Ocean slumped into his bed, the unevenly distributed hay causing a mild- yet an indescribable discomfort. After many vain attempts to fix this issue, he simply resigned himself to the malaise, pondering on the events that had led him here in the first place.
It was only a few hours ago where Bruce made his nightly trip to the 24/7 convenience store as always, stocking up on energy drinks and snacks to power through the rest of his work. Unhealthy as it was, it was a must if he wanted to finish whatever he had going on in a timely manner. In doing so he'd sign off his life, his area wasn't best known for how friendly it was- it was quite the opposite. He was on the receiving end of a mugging and he thought himself capable of dealing with the situation with his own two hands.
Unfortunately his two years of military service didn't mean jackshit as two bullets annihilated his skull.
As his lifeless body slumped to the floor, he awoke moments later on a beach, the region which the bullets penetrated stung and writhed in pain, fizzling out in due time.
When Bruce awoke, the view of the diamond blue ocean ahead, the gold sand beneath, the early morning sunrise and the fact that- y'know, he just got killed - all coalesced to form a wholehearted belief that he ended up in heaven. That could not be further from the truth, but the beach was certainly a sight to behold.
The first thing to disperse this illusion was what could be seen behind him. Bruce looked out onto a run-down island past a small archway, the place looked as if it had been somewhat prosperous thanks to the creative architecture, unique colors and well placed flora that all coalesced to make it seem as though the island was an art piece. This was all corrupted by time as all things are, wind sharply wisping against buildings in a harrowing cry as if it yearned for its former glory.
The streets were desolate save for what appeared to be a few stray dogs that appeared to be scrounging for whatever food they could muster. Bruce looked at the archway he viewed the town from, displayed at the top was the name of the island and beside that was the population.
Borta Keys
112
Bruce stumbled past the archway, his legs flimsy as a twig due to the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping through his system considering he JUST died and now inexplicably appeared on an island in the middle of nowhere.
As he stumbled past he looked to his right into a small shop that was closed. It didn't seem as if it was abandoned though, it simply wasn't operating at this moment in time. Peering through the glass he saw an assortment of goods marked with brands he didn't recognise although they were written in English, thankfully. As he peered deeper in, his nose firmly squashed against the glass, he saw something that finally rang a bell, but not in a way that he'd normally expect.
The West Blue Times
He was too far out to inspect the subtext, but that heading was eerily familiar though he couldn't reason why. Continuing to trek forward he noticed an odd sensation in his right pocket, as though it was full despite usually carrying his wallet in the left pocket. Reaching down he produced a wad of cash that seemed reminiscent of an American dollar bill, less of a counterfeit and moreso a joking portrayal of one.
To the right of where a president's head would be framed was a bunny man who seemed.. Bored? Simply stood there with little emotional expression nor a look of pride. To the left was the denomination of this bill, valued at 1000, with various other indicators of its worth across the bill.
Bruce backtracked towards the store he nosily inspected, looking to see if this currency matched the price tags. Whether or not it was true would simply lead to more and more questions that needed answering. Peering forth he confirmed the validity of the money he had in hand and in doing so he'd look at the newspaper he remarked on earlier.
'Is that.. No, couldn't be, right?'
He looked back at the wad of cash, feeling a similar sense of familiarity as he did when looking at the newspaper. Bruce chalked it up to odd coincidence despite the signs, there was no way he'd end up THERE of all places, this simply couldn't be what was in store for the afterlife.
Bruce trudged deeper and deeper in hopes to find answers to what in the fuck this place is, preferably ones that didn't involve being transported to a cartoon of all places. In doing so he found even more evidence confirming his 'fears' so to speak. He reached a point where the cobblestone path split into two with one road going ahead whilst the other went towards the right. At the end of this rightwards path was a metal shack that contrasted with the vibe the rest of the village portrayed regardless of how much it had aged, looking similar to the shipping container shaped resting areas on construction sites. On it were two congruent arches merging in the middle with a horizontal line stretching through that middle line, on each side of those lines were crescent shaped protrusions pointing to their corresponding sides. Mostly importantly, in bright baby blue, inscribed with a font that emanated authority and duty:
Marines
Bruce, for reasons unknown, had certifiably found his way into the One Piece world.
Bruce fell to his knees, precisely zero thoughts were circulating within his brain except the overarching feel of confusion potent enough to resemble the most vile cluster headache imaginable.
He did not want to move for quite a while, but the sound of people opening up the doors to their homes as people began to wake up and perform their errands for the day snapped him out of his trance because he frankly did not want to be seen collapsed and dazed in the street. He got up to his feet and wiped off the dirt accumulated on his clothes before repeating a well known mantra capable of remedying the greatest of mental hardships.
"It is what it is."
So that was that, he was in the One Piece world, living within the confines of a show Bruce had only watched up until Drum Island because he didn't understand the hype. There was only one question ringing prominently in his mind: The fuck was he gonna do now?
Bruce withdrew the money from his pocket, meticulously counting each bill which came up to a total of 100,000 which felt like a solid amount to begin with. Now, he did have the slight aspiration to sucker punch whatever deity was at play for this sick joke - if he wasn't dreaming that is - but first things first, he needed decent shelter.
He took his time exploring the town, reminiscing on how it could've been when it was vibrant, he assumed that a place as small as this would've probably experienced an exodus of some sort, its size meant that there'd be a lack of opportunities for most youngins. He explored with the express purpose of finding an inn or some form of lodging, though he let his mind and body wander as he watched the people of this world run their day to day errands, though making sure he wasn't seen ogling at them.
He finally found his way into an inn, filled with what couldn't even be considered a handful of patrons who all seemed old and tired, running the bar was an equally old woman who raised an eyebrow at the unknown guest; living on an island as small as this would mean that you basically knew everyone, an unfamiliar spry young man in his early 20's caused a lot of confusion. Thus began Bruce's first conversation in this new world he found himself in.
"And who would you be?" The woman poised a hand against her hip expectantly.
"It's Bruce, Bruce Ocean. How mu-"
"Never seen you around here." It seemed as though she was suspicious, the patrons stared daggers at him. It was clear they didn't trust him.
"Hah.. Yeah, I'm new, so how mu-"
"Where'd you come fr-"
Bruce smacked the entire wad of cash on the counter, the flimsy wood flexing slightly against the force.
"How much do I need to stay here for the night?" Bruce interrupted, not wanting to deal with this interrogation. He wasn't nearly this assertive but being unfamiliar as he was to this world, he would probably slip and give an answer that would arouse their suspicions further. He just wanted a place to rest.
The lady looked at the cash and noted the slight hint of desperation in Bruce's voice, he felt exploitable so to speak.
"All of it." And she would not hold her punches, offering a blatant rip-off.
"Hmph, fine." Bruce sighed, not wanting to raise a scene. He slid the cash further down the counter and the woman rummaged for the key long enough for one of the other customers to demand another beer.
He received the key and the door number and he was left to contemplate on what just happened, specifically on how much he had just spent.
'A single beli is like a yen, right? So 100 yen to a dollar and- That fucking hag..!' His blood boiled, he had the equivalent of a 1000 dollars taken from him just because he was new and wanted to avoid confrontation. He vowed never to get ripped off like that again no matter the circumstances.
Bruce unlocked the door to his room, small enough where he couldn't fully extend his arms with a hay mattress taking up one third of its width, a nightstand beside that and empty space everywhere else. Bruce Ocean slumped into his bed, the unevenly distributed hay causing a mild- yet an indescribable discomfort. After many vain attempts to fix this issue, he simply resigned himself to the malaise, pondering on the events that had led him here in the first place.
Afterwards, he needed to figure out exactly what he should do, perhaps he should try to live a completely normal life and accept his circumstances however odd they may be. A part of him ultimately decided against that, he was thrust into a world where the impossible was possible, and he'd be damned if he let the opportunity to maximize his potential within this world go to waste. All that contemplation led to the same question in the end however:
'What exactly do I do?'
Bruce sighed, retreating deeper under these course covers that felt more like a towel than a blanket. It was morning yet all he wanted was a good night's sleep, he was shot dead in the nighttime after all.
Soon, his consciousness began to slip and he entered a deep slumber.
BANG
A powerful shockwave shook the flimsy bed frame, the glass blasted forth and covered the carpet in an array of microscopic fragments. Bruce shot up to his feet in an instant, the American tradition of keeping shoes on in bed saving him from the shards pricking and prodding at his feet. He poked his head out the space where the window formerly was, hands planted against the wall besides that empty space.
There Bruce saw a small ship with a single loose cannon aimed directly at the building beside him which looked more like a shack than anything. A trail of smoke arose from the freshly fired spout of the cannon. Having served in the Army before, he immediately kicked into action, kicking down the door in a hurry and rushing to the ground floor of the inn. Despite being swindled by that old hag, his mind was made up when it came to defending this town. It wasn't out of any respect for the place itself, it was out of a respect of his own skills, believing that a man who has enlisted before and has the prerequisite skills to deal with something like this should do anything in his power to defend it if it comes to him. This was why he prioritized dealing with the threat as opposed to running away and ensuring his own safety; it was his duty to fend off these attackers.
Bruce barged through the trap door and ran into a small kitchen they had in the back to scrounge for tools to defend himself, in there he found a long kitchen knife that seemed relatively useful for the job. He stood at the door going out for a moment, a slight wave of hesitation slowing his decision making.
He took a few deep breaths, steeling himself for what was about to come as he then marched onwards, hopping over the counter with his left hand, the other hand clutched around the blade.
Adam hadn't seen active combat, but he was trained to be prepared at all times in case his unit was deployed. A little extra experience couldn't hurt but he had the disposition of being an effective combatant ingrained into him by his time in the military, a disposition that gave him the capacity to take a life if it ever came down to it.
Running out of the inn he saw small groups run into alleys, there must've been about 20 pirates on that ship, which, when ambushing an island with a measly 112 people, was enough to overrun it entirely. Bruce was aware of the marine presence on the island and he knew it was definitely not up to par against this threat which was all the more reason why Bruce wanted to fight. Thankfully they were primarily armed with cutlasses or sabers and not any type of firearm.
A duo of pirates ran up to him, seeing this establishment and knowing they could get their fair share of money out of this business. Bruce's combatives practice kicked in and he rushed forward as well in an attempt to overwhelm the two with sheer aggression, leading in with an almost heartless lunge with the blade in an attempt to gut him like a fish.
In response the pirate instinctively dropped his saber, clutching Bruce by the wrist to stop it going any deeper, the blade only piercing about two inches deep.
Well aware of the other pirate beside the man he just attempted to disembowel, he cut an angle to the outside whilst retracting the blade to move away from him and continue his attack, following up with a fierce shoulder bash to rocket the unarmed pirate against his friend.
The foe resisted against this force, hooking stabs around his buddy to try fending him off resulting in some minor nicks and scratches. Bruce lowered in response to make it harder to hit him before shuffling his shoulder inwards, causing the force both were driving against the pirate in the middle to glance into the corresponding direction, making them lose their balance.
Bruce jumped on this opportunity like a wild dog, taking his blade and driving it into the side of the armed pirate as the threat the other one presented was less pressing. Ribs cracked under the force of the blade as it pressed forth without wavering, puncturing several important organs with certainty and rendering that man useless.
The other swung on him, knuckles smacking cleanly against the back of his skull. Bruce staggered forward and twisted to face the last threat of this encounter who looked to brutally maul him, immediately following up smacking the blade inwards and socking him squarely in the cheek. Bruce ducked this and drove forward, one arm hooking around the knee pit to off balance him, unexpectedly ripping him from the floor and sending him cascading down. Now in a mounted position he raised the blade up mightily, another explosive shockwave roared, setting fire to the inn beside him. Coinciding with that shockwave was the unsympathetic plunge of his steel, puncturing the sternum as he aimed directly for the heart.
[Incoming]
[You have leveled up!]
[Would you like to see your character sheet?]
Bruce was somehow distracted from his goal of eliminating all those who sought to dole out carnage, his undivided attention placed towards these screens that appeared right in front of him. They weren't even similar to how a game would present itself, it was precisely gamelike, another surprise in a world full of surprises.
"Y-... yes..?" He said, his voice trembling
Name: Bruce Ocean
Level:1 (0/200)
Stats:
Strength: 8
Vitality: 10
Agility: 5
Perception:5
Willpower:6
Unassigned Points: 3
Health: 100/100
Regeneration Rate: 0.5/m
Passive Skills:
Military Combatives (6/25)
Marksmanship (11/25)
Active Skills:
Focus Aim: (5/25)
Race: Human 0/100
Perks: N/A
System Perks:
Observe
"Uh huh…."
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