Chapter 10
That sly come hither stare
That strips my conscience bare
(witchcraft - Frank Sinatra)
Marshall Hagrave stood from his small cot, stretched his arms above his head and dropped to the floor, mercilessly pushing his body up and down performing pushups. After completing whatever goal he had, he jumped up, reached above himself and started doing pull-ups.
Finally done, he lowered his sweaty body to the floor, picked up a metal canteen from his bedside and drank some water. He then left the small room dressed solely in his tank top and boxers. As he moved through the thin wooden corridors men dressed in navy blue uniforms rushed to and fro. When they passed Marshall they pushed themselves up against the wall to get past him. He walked shoulders square and arms swinging confidently, his gaze fixed at a perfect 90-degree angle from his body.
He pushed into the communal washroom, grabbed a rag and soap bar, and started cleaning himself from a bucket of fresh water. He was a tall man, perhaps 6 feet 4 inches. He had dark, close-cropped hair, stubble, and dark grey eyes. He had tan skin and a well-muscled skinny body coated with patches of thick dark hair and the odd tattoo.
When he finished cleaning, he walked back to his very small but private room. Inside it fit a small metal bed frame, underneath the bed was a chest for storage and a small mirror attached to the wall. Hanging from the ceiling was a black suit, white shirt and black tie.
Marshall donned his attire slowly and purposefully like a knight equipping his suit of armour. First came a fresh thick white tank top, then on top of that a long sleeved white button down shirt, next came loose black pants, with a crease running down each leg, into which he tightly tucked the white shirt. The bed creaked as he sat down and pulled on grey socks, one with a small hole on the left foot by his big toe.
He pulled out the chest storage from under the bed, the wood sliding satisfyingly against the wooden floor. He flipped the two latches and swung the lid open, reaching inside and extracting a pair of immaculate shining black leather officer shoes. Sliding them on with a soft 'shluck' sound his feet fell into the perfectly sized shoes.
Marshall stood, wiping at his trousers. Grabbed the last item of his ensemble, a weathered black suit jacket, swung it on and studied himself in the mirror. He stood there for some time, staring blankly at his own reflection, then turned and left the room.
The ship Marshall was aboard was a caravel-level marine cruiser, the standard ship of the marines in the East Blue. Due to how this sea is considered the safest sea of the Four Blues, Marine presence here was generally managed loosely and equipment was decades old at best. Not that the locals were particularly aware not many people moved from the sea they were born in as traversing the sea was no safe business and the geographical issues presented by both the Calm Belt and Grandline made it practically impossible for the average person to move between Seas.
Marshall made his way onto the deck to a mixture of suspicious glances and half hearted salutes. It was clear that the men did not trust the suited interloper aboard their vessel but they also feared him in equal measure. Marshall's expression was stoic and hard, seemingly showing he wasn't even vaguely aware of the attention he garnered from the local marines.
The blank faced man made his way up a set of stairs towards the back of the boat. He was greeted with a nod by another man dressed in marine attire, this man however had a large white coat draped over his shoulders, in a style that was very popular amongst higher-ranked marines.
"Captain Baker," he greeted the marine with a nonchalant nod.
"Agent," he received a stiff salute in return, "we received intel, your man was involved in an altercation at a small island a few miles east of us, if prevailing winds maintain estimated time of arrival shall be by 1800 hours this evening."
Marshall nodded again in response, turned and walked away. Retiring to the galley, he made himself a cup of coffee and sat down, reaching inside his jacket he pulled out a small knife, 5 inches in length and a small block of wood, roughly the same length. And began to whittle.
For the next few hours here the man sat, and bit by bit chipped away at the small wooden object until it resembled a man. Kneeling with his hands clasped in front of him in prayer.
A marine walked to his side and saluted, "Sir we will be at port in 5," with the rigid uniformity of a military man he span on his heel 90 degrees and marched from the room.
The suited man stood, brushed a few errant wood shavings from his lap and returned both knife and statue into his breast pocket. He then made his way at a sedate pace to the deck. He stood and stared at the small docks, lined with people no doubt waiting to deliver some tail of woe to the marines and bequest their aid in apprehending a criminal.
The boat docked and low and behold an old man hobbled to the gangway as a series of low ranked marines marched down it to stand at attention on either side standing at attention with rifles and swords. The captain then made his way down, with much the same air of rigid conformity in his gait and way of holding himself. He had a commanding authority they did not, that a man can only get from being listened to often and attentively.
"Captain thank you for coming so quick, we tried to capture the bugger but he got away," the old man gasped out in a single breath.
The captain standing at least 3 times the height of the elderly man, looked down at him showing little emotion, "I'm sure you all did what you could," the old man nodded earnestly, "it is imperative now that we gain all the information we can as quickly as possible, we need to know why he was here, with whom he associated with and to where he may have been going."
The old man continued to nod paying rapt attention, he removed his hat and used it to mop up some sweat collecting on his brow, "Yes sir, right this way, some of our townspeople saw him last night, I've got one young man I think you should speak with first."
The old man began to walk away slowly, but turned back when he realised he was not being followed. The captain instead was studying the suited man on deck, seemingly awaiting some action from him. The man slowly joined the captain on the docks and muttered something to him, which seemed to both frustrate and confuse him. Alas, military men know when to follow orders and so he turned and began ordering his men around 'secure this' 'clean that' and so forth protecting his damaged ego.
The suited man smiled thinly at the old man "Leed the way sir," he instructed with soft dulcet tones, the man eagerly and with great effort led him through the crowd into a small granite abode. It was a dank and dusty hovel, with spartan wooden furniture all placed around a wood stove. Sat around it was a small family a woman, perhaps in her early thirties, with thin strawlike blond hair, she was very thin apart from her bulging pregnant belly, and in her arms, she held a young girl squirming in her grip. Next to her sat a young man, he had wide searching eyes and a patchy pubescent attempt at a beard. His head swung to look at the guests while the woman stared blankly at the flickering flames of the open stove.
"Duni, Margret," the mayor greeted to get their attention, "this man is with the world government and is tracking the man from last night, why don't you tell him what happened Duni."
The young man then went on to describe the events of last night, he had spotted the old man at Pluto's bar and restaurant outside of town. He then made a connection to a wanted poster he had seen delivered some time ago, for one Algea Morvah. Seeing the skinny old man, and the enormous price on his head, he quickly told his friend, who then told some of the men drinking at the docks. They then formed something of a mob to hunt down the wanted man. Unfortunately, they got more than they bargained for as the elderly man's bounty was not entirely for show.
The young man struggled to recount the events that followed, choking back tears. His brother the woman's husband was among the dead.
The immaculately adorned government agent sat still, without moving a muscle paying close attention to every word the young man spoke without interrupting. When he finished the room was quiet apart from the faint crackling of the stove's fire and blubbing of some kind of stew sat atop it.
"Ha-hum" he cleared his throat gently behind a closed fist, "could you point me towards the home of the family that were harbouring the criminal."
The room was silent for a moment as the inhabitants looked at one another nervously.
"Now sir I don't think they knowingly harboured him, if they even did at all, you heard the boy he wasn't even in their home." the old man explained with a pleading note to his voice.
The tall man sat silently, his gaze fixed sharply onto the young man whose story he had been listening to.
Sweat began to well up on top of his pink brow, his eyes firmly on the floor.
"J…just head out the town that was sir," he murmured with a faint nod of his head.
The man swiftly got up and walked out of the house.
"Just hang on second, they are good people, done nothing wrong I promise you," the old man called scurrying after him as quickly as he could.
He arrived sometime later at the humble dwelling. The elderly mayor had kept up but was too out of breath to talk further. He knocked on the door, a steady bang bang bang, that said in no uncertain terms, 'open the door'.
Inside were muffled sounds of children complaining, and the stern voice of a woman, then silence. The door creaked open and a woman peaked through, her eyes had dark rings around them, and the skin underneath looked heavy. She squinted her eyes suspiciously, first at Marshall, then at the mayor.
"Hello madam, could I come inside to talk, I need to speak with Pluto," Marshall informed her politely with a smile.
"Sorry we are not able to receive guests at the moment," she growled.
She went to swing the door shut on the unwelcome pair, only to find a black leather shoe jammed between it and the door frame.
"What do you think you're playing at," came her shrill cry.
"I'm with the world government," he pushed the door wide open with his left hand "I am hunting a dangerous fugitive" he stepped into the entrance as the woman shuffled away from him clutching at her chest "I need to speak with your husband immediately, I'm afraid it cannot wait."
Two children were peaking through bannisters a story above.
"You've some nerve barging in like this, you brought this man here mayor, some job you're doing." she scowled at them both.
"We just want justice done, many good men died last night," he wheezed, looking uncomfortable but stepping into the house as well.
"Good men," she scoffed, "Pluto is in there," she gestured to a room to the right.
Marshall walked in, without looking at her. She nervously bit her lip, looking between the room the government agent entered, the mayor and her children.
"Back to your room you two now" she sternly admonished them both and bustled into the adjoining room followed closely by the mayor. Inside sitting at the dining room table was Pluto, he looked confused, looking between the man, and his wife.
"Pluto my name is Marshall Hagrave, I am an agent here on behalf of the world government, investigating a string of brutal and senseless criminal acts, perpetrated by a man called Algea Morvah, you have met this man correct?" Marshall introduced himself, walking confidently into the room, grabbing a chair from the table, dragging it into the centre of the room and sitting down.
"Yeah," Pluto's voice broke slightly.
His wife walked to his side and held his shoulder, which had a blanket draped over it.
"While he was here did he give you any inclination of where he may be heading," Marshall began to interrogate.
"No," came the short and quiet reply from Pluto.
"Was he in possession of a strangle looking fruit, it would have looked like a pineapple but different," Marshall asked ignoring the incredulous looks he was getting.
"No idea."
"Did he make contact with any person or persons other than yourself while in your company?"
Pluto's wife grabbed his shoulder harder, "n… no" Pluto responded his eyes still downcast.
"Did you aid Algea Morvah in any way in the massacre of the townspeople outside of your house last night?"
There was a pregnant pause, Pluto's cloudy eyes widened in shock and began to fill with tears.
"No," eventually came the gasping response.
Marshall stood quickly.
"That is all I need to know," he reached behind his back and pulled out a set of iron shackles, "You are under arrest for harbouring a known fugitive, and under suspicion of murder and being an agent of the revolutionary army."
"No," Pluto gasped it, his wife shrieked it, and the old mayor groaned it.
Nobody fought back, plutos wife fell to the floor and sobbed.
"You can't do this he didn't do anything wrong, he is a good man, those bastards came to hurt us they were going to break our door down, Pluto didn't know he was a wanted man please we have children," she begged still on the floor, shuffling towards the government agent.
He looked down at her, his tall form casting a shadow over her, his grey eyes became dreadfully sharp, piercing her like a knife, and she whimpered. The mayor ran over and held her, pulling her to the side.
Pluto just stared, eyes wide, his chest rising and falling faster and faster. He simply allowed the man to attach the manacles around his wrists and be led towards the door,
"LUTO NO," she groaned and sobbed running after them, jumping onto the man's back.
Before she could make contact he span and lashed out with a punch to her side, and she fell to the floor gasping for air.
"YOU FUCKER DON'T TOUCH HER."
Pluto came alive thrashing and baring his teeth wildly, he launched himself from a squat, shooting towards Marshall with the intent to bite down on his neck. The attempt was met with Marshall's foot catching the chain holding his wrist together and driving it towards the floor. As Pluto went careening downwards, his legs flailing behind him, his face was caught against Marshall's knee, with a meaty crack his head bounced off the knee and he collapsed to the floor.
Marshall stood straight up and surveyed the room, gasping on the floor was Pluto's injured wife, unable to move or speak. Stood protectively over her was the old mayor, shaking in a catatonic fear unable to comprehend the circumstance he found himself in. Upstairs peaking from between the banister were two young children, their tear tracked faces frozen in horror.
Marshall leaned down and grabbed Pluto's head with one large tanned hand, hefted the limp body up, till only his legs were dragging on the ground, and blood began to pool on the floor, slowly dripping from his injured mouth. Then he left pushing the door open and making his way back towards the town.