To many, the New World is the goal, the place where your every desire will be met, where all of your hard work will finally pay off, and it's the sea that will make all of your struggles worth it. It's where you will be rewarded with wealth, treasure and renown unmatched by any other place in the world. The greatest adventure anyone has ever been on, and the place to find your way into the history books.

That is, for the strong, the fearless, the savage and the mighty. For the rest, it's a sea full of nightmares, where everyday is a battle for your every breath and each meal might be your last. This is where the Marine Base, G5 is, the first – and last line of defense from the pirates. It's a position that is viewed with just as much dignity as it is pity, the men and women here have some of the hardest jobs in the entire Marine organization, which is commendable. But, the base also has a reputation for being filled with deplorables whom are barely any better than the pirates they hunt.

Our story begins with the Warship of the third class, “Mirana”, a Marine vessel, a somewhat sizable Man O' War, for a Third Class Warship, but no giant, either. 100 men strong, and commanded by Vice Admiral Freyja, sailing on the seas of the New World. The Second Patrol of the G5 base. The crew was keeping their spirits high while everyone is working on their chores, cleaning the decks, moving cargo, making repairs after their last battle with some low-life pirates, or tending (or perhaps torturing) the prisoners from the previously mentioned battle. The seas seemed easy, and the outlook on the assignment ahead of them seemed likewise.

Their mission was to head to the Little Lagoon Island, and escort a government official, of no real influence, so not a very likely target for attack, but, of course, this is the New World, where you should expect the unexpected. The official was to be escorted from Little Lagoon to the larger island of Loetown, one of the World Government outposts in the new world, and one of the fewthat had a direct seatrain connection to Marineford.

En Route to Lagoon Town, The Quartermaster sat in his quarters, marking some papers, new deliveries, that sort of thing, busywork that the old warrior hardly found interesting, yet, it beat being shot at – not that it would take very long before that would change on these waters, Little Lagoon was in Scrapyard Territory, and while the Scrapyard pirates were savages, they stayed out of Marine business unless provoked, and a lone Warship was hardly worth the bloodshed for the servants of the Emperor.

That was what Commodore Colt prayed for, anyway. He finished his documents, and let out a loud sigh. “I need a drink.” And with that, he made his way towards the mess hall, his tank top revealing many scars on his massive torso, while he pulled his coat from the chair he had been sitting on. For a all but Legendary Marine, Colt hardly looked the part, with his scruffy beard, tank top, his not-washed-this-side-of-two-decades Marine cap, and his torn and dirty shorts hanging down to his knees, combined with his combat boots, he looked more like a homeless man than a well esteemed warrior and leader.

With a loud cough, he made his way to the mess hall, to engage the loonies of the second Patrol, they had a load of different characters on board, some were easy to like, some were hard not to hate, others might fit with the high society of the Marines, and others might as well been throw in the brig with the Pirates they had captured.

Making his way to the mess hall, he got a cup of warm coffee and before he could enjoy his first drink of the day, sounds much like a thunderclap were heard and the boat quaked, making him spill the coffee onto his torso, a high pitched shriek escaped the large man, whom started blowing hysterically at the very warm spot on his torso, only to soon look around and see the other Marines looking at him, he put a cool demeanor on and simply exclaimed.

“That was warmer than I thought. What was that quake, anyway?” Diverting attention from his little mishap.

“Ship at 12 O' clock.” One of his Seamen informed him.
“But it's barely past the break of Dawn!” Ax joked, only to be met with a few semi-forced chuckles from his fellow Marines.
“Very funny, sir.” The Marine assured him.

“Go inform Freyja of the ship, rest of you, get your asses off the seats, and get ready for a fight, just in case. This is Scrap Country, after all.”

Some responded with “Yes, Sir.” While others chimed in with something akin to “Okiedokie, Bossman.” The G5 was a cesspool, for sure, but they did know better than to question the orders of the Commanding Officers, even if one of them was a former prisoner, and the other was spending her entire commission on gambling.

Elsewhere on the ship, Warrant Officer Irwin Kendrick was currently engaged in a cleansing routine. Irwin poured some seawater, as it was better to use that than fresh water, over his body. Grasping a purple, palm sized, bar of soap Kendrick slowly slide the soap down his chest. While rubbing the soap in a circular motion over his upper body; Irwin's pupils focused towards his 'sailor's uniform'. Of course while Irwin Kendrick didn't have wear that particular attire, the Warrant Officer preferred that whenever combat happened that he'd be dressed in something other than his suit. It was always such a bother to clean up any blood, muck or mire that came up in battle from his nice suit. At this moment that clothing set was still drying up from an earlier cleaning.

As Kendrick was inspecting his fingernails and as he prepared to clean his lower body; the Marina was struck by a powerful force which caused Kendrick's soap to shoot out of his hands. With a grumble the Warrant Officer stopped cleaning himself as he began to search for the soap he dropped. Spying the soap on the floorboards Kendrick bent over to grab it as another Marine barged in.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEY SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR!" Kendrick jolted up in an erect position as the other Marine realized what situation he stumbled upon in. This realization caused the other marine to instinctively raise his left hand to cover his eyes, although he took a few glances between his fingers as Kendrick somewhat covered himself. Removing his hand the marine cleared his throat, "Hey Sir! Our commanding Commodore told us to prepare for trouble; possibly pirates." With an eager grin the sailor gave a salute before rushing out.

Kendrick grimaced as he looked up towards, his still wet, 'battle attire'. There was no option other than his suit right now. Irwin grabbed a towel and dried himself off. He took a few moments to inspect his fingernails again before procuring his suit. Carefully Irwin brushed it off before dressing in it. After that he placed both of his 'FUN Bags' over his shoulders while placing his gloves on.

And now finally Irwin Kendrick grabbed his prized revolver. Slowly he moved it around in all directions, checking to see if it had any new scratches or blemishes he needed to worry about. As per usual there was nothing new to worry about. Opening the barrel, Kendrick began to count the current amount of rounds. It wasn't full so Irwin took a few rounds from his belt and filled up his revolver. Finished with that he closed the barrel and methodically stepped towards the door, looking both left and right before sensitively opening the door. When there was enough room to take a peek through, Kendrick took the time to check and see if anything was wrong. Since there was nothing to worry about from the initial check from the door he exited the room and kept close towards the walls.

Yuudaina's job was rarely easy. Even at the best of times, there would always be some crewmembers who felt a need to slack off from their given duties when running a ship; in G-5's second patrol unit, this involved a few more members of the crew in question, and often a substantial amount more violence in both their activities and what was needed to drag them back in line. Not to mention, of course, the casual violations of dress code and basic etiquette that continued to erupt even as heels were put down. Still, the Yuushuu nobleman did try his best to remain above the brutish sadism of lesser crew members, even if some of them were constant thorns in his side.

'And I'm telling you, Apprentice Volk, that just because nothing's happening with the engines now doesn't mean it won't whilst you're not paying attention!'

And then there were people like Seaman Apprentice Volk Waggen, who seemed not to know what work was, nor the concept of uniform- he was currently wearing what amounted to jeans and a ripped-up t-shirt, with no hint of formality to be found- nor the concept of rank. Or if he did, then he much preferred the concept of blatant insubordination when he thought he could get away with it, which included leading his fellows to gamble at card games. This time around, everyone else had wisely returned to tending the oil-lit engine room long ago, making sure all dials were within appropriate limits and any faults reported to the ship's engineers. To their credit, the scattered machinery all appeared to be functioning perfectly well - no boilers overheating, or engines suffering wear or tear, or anything of that sort. If they kept doing their jobs so well as that all the time...

'Pfft. Whatever, Softie, it's not like the ship's literally about to explode or whatever. Idiot.'

But no, mister Waggen had to be uppity about the whole thing. He wasn't certain he had the authority to demote even a lowly infantryman, but Yuudaina knew how unlikely it was to make a difference with somebody like this. No, once certain limits were passed, one had to give firm reminders about how this ship was run. Permanent reminders, if need be. And admittedly, he would enjoy putting the lout back in his place.

In a single swift movement, Yuudaina grabbed the upstart by the side of his head, and slammed the other side hard into the nearby boiler. For mere seconds he held the man there, waiting until he began to screech in pain, then flung him to the ground face first with a loud metallic WHANG.

'Ah, the wonders of modern technology... objects hot enough to burn a man's skin, and technology advanced enough to keep up justice in the world,' Yuudaina ranted to nobody in particular, projecting his voice over the sounds of Waggen's complaints of 'God damn it, you burned my face!' and other such noises. 'But inevitably, if that technology isn't maintained, the technology breaks, and then how will justice be served? Not at all, I reckon. Hence the need for everybody to do their jobs within the Marines...'

The subtle hint had everyone who was otherwise observing the Master-at-Arms' annoyance returned to their work. And as for Waggen? 'Fifty pushups, right now, and be glad it's not a hundred,' Yuudaina ordered, drawing a look of rage and contempt from the lesser Marine. A fist punched into the other palm with a CLANG, however, had the man beginning his punishment exercises whilst muttering under his breath. "Beginning", because three pushups in, Yuudaina decided they weren't difficult enough, and stepped up on to Volk's back on his downstroke, drawing yet more enraged upset, including the unique line 'You deadass overrighteous punk!'

'Don't make it a hundred, buster,' Yuudaina would have warned, if the entire ship had not quaked at that exact moment, practically tipping him off of the Seaman Apprentice's back toward the floor. Were he not a man with supreme bodily control, he'd have been sprawled out the way Volk now was; as things were, Yuudaina allowed his perception of time to slow just enough to get something resembling a bearing of what was happening, then held both arms toward the floor, leaving him in a handstand that evolved into balancing on just one hand, and from there to a steady rotation until he was back on his feet. The trick was in keeping one's weight over the point one was balancing on, a trivial act with Life Return to help oneself remain centered, but still apparently worth a few claps from somebody else.

'Don't applaud, that wasn't as impressive as you think it was.' Chiding aside, chances were the entire ship quaking meant that they were under attack, and that meant Yuudaina's abilities would probably be needed ASAP. And if the ship needed to get out of there fast, these folks would need to actually be manning the engines properly.

'Volk, keep going with your pushups. Everyone else, look alive!' the Lieutenant ordered the engine crew. 'We may have a fight on our hands, and if that's the case, then you'll certainly have something to do in the next few minutes! Oh, and make sure Apprentice Volk actually DOES the pushups,' he added as an afterthought, pointing toward the nearest and most trustworthy crew member for the proposed duty as he headed back out. He'd be needed above deck, most likely, or perhaps by the side of his commanding officers if they didn't take the fight deckside. Flawed as they were, they were still the leaders of this crew, and its most powerful members at that, and any help they could get would only amplify their effectiveness short of an overwhelming foe.

Among those who taken up the task of informing the officers of the present situation, Seaman Jo Joe Josie had come from the Commander's Quarters confused and a bit lost. The recent reassignments meant that about a quarter of the 2nd Patrol's men were new and rather unfamiliar with the quirks and quandaries surrounding those at the top, and adjustment was...a work in progress.

Jo's wanderings took him down to the engine room, where a worker tending a burned face pointed him to some more experienced superiors, who sent him down to the cargo hold. Jo passed by the brig, face twisting into a grimace of confusion and disgust as he watched men with long spears, tips dull and rusted, poking and prodding as the tried impale caged pirates caught more than a week ago, laughing about how the unpolished weapons will hurt more when they go in. Keeping his head low and slipping by, he finally reached the hold, and by following grunts of anticipation and calls of low or high, he came across a group of Marines huddled around a pile of cards, bills, and coins. One Marine held a card from his hand out out, over a pile where a 6 lay, while the one sitting opposite of him pondered with a hand on her chin, before finally stating, "Low."

Her opposite dropped a Jack on the pile, leaving Vice-Admiral Freyja to let out a groan, throwing her free hand to slap her forehead as her opponent chortled, the witnesses joining in as the pot was taken back. Reaching to grab a few bills as she looked over her cards again, Freyja separated one, holding it up, before finally taking notice of Jo. "Yo."

Jo stared blankly. "Ma'am...we're under attack!"

"Don't call me ma'am. I'm not some old fart like Colt."

As if on cue, there was another quake, and the ship rocked to one side, Jo managing to brace himself up against a crate, while the sitting gamblers had no issue, instantly dropping their hands to keep the cards in place.

"It's an emergency!"

Freyja waved her hand, "Chill out, kid. It's probably just Pop Brine. Happens all the time around here."

A bit lost, Jo elaborated, "There's a ship! It could be the Scrapyard Pirates!"

Freyja clicked her tongue, muttering, "Gross..." Letting out a sigh, she threw her cards down before letting out a yawn. "Better give it a look," she stated as she stood, grabbing her coat from behind her and throwing it over her V-neck shirt and slack gray pants, blades at her hip. One thin, the tip practically touching the ground from its length, and one wide, the hilt shaped like a scaly curled tail and seeming to twitch at the movement.

---

Going from the dank and mildewy hold to the fresh salty spray of the sea air as another thunderclap rang out, sending a wave of water to the deck as the warship rocked lightly. "Evasive action? Smart. Or whoever's attacking us is shit at adjusting their aim." Seeing some men fumbling with cannons, Freyja called, "Double time on those!" without making a move herself. She spotted the Scrapyard Pirate flag: a mishappen metallic skull with sharp teeth dripping black oil into the background of the sail, dark clouds of billowing smoke trailing behind the ship, dancing in front of the sun and casting shadows on the patrol division. The cannons were just a formality: against any crew of note in the New World, they were an annoyance at best...

An annoyed groan escaped the gray-haired and shaggy-faced marine as he peaked around yet another corner in search for his target. Why had they sent him? Surely there were less competent rascals onboard this Warship that could do these pointless tasks, so why had he gotten stuck with the job of tracking down a kid barely half his age? The kid hadn't spent even a tenth of the time in the Marine ranks that he had and yet, that little sneak had managed to crawl his way all the way up to become a Lieutenant Junior Grade. Just thinking of it was enough to make the marine clench his fist. "Dedric Olari, the Lieutenant Junior Grade. Pfft, what a joke."

"Jealousy really doesn't suit you recruit." Dedric had heard the same comments before, people wondering just how he had managed to snag his title, and he always gave them the same answer. "I merely do as I get told, not my fault if that gets me places," A snide boyish grin stretched from ear to ear as Dedric walked up to the obviously cranky marine. "What did you want from me?"

"We seem to be unde-" That was as far as recruit Johannes got before something shook the boat, knocking him off his feet while Dedric stood firm as a pole.

"Attack?" Dedric asked mockingly, having a quick stretch. "Don't worry, I felt the first quake." He added before stepping over the sprawled out man and setting off towards the main deck.

---

It didn't take long before Dedric found himself in the middle of a developing chaos, marines running everywhere, carrying gunpowder and cannonballs, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Dedric threw a quick glance out to sea and almost immediately noticed the pirate ship. "Those are the scrapyard guys? Right?" He asked to nobody in particular as he waited for one of those oh so familiar voices to start barking orders.

Soon the Scrapyard Pirate ship was close enough, the vessel was one of their larger ones, but not one of their warships. That was what Ax figured, anyway. He had read every report the Marines had on the Scrapyard Pirates, not that there was a whole lot of those, as their leaders were all shrouded in mystery, even from the Marines. No scout whom had tussled with their higher ups had ever made it to a safe place to write a report. Ax was looking stoic as the cannon balls hit their hull, the ship's hull surely was durable enough, and the helmsmen were all skilled at maneuvering the Marinara. Frejya came up next to him, pointing out that the Scrapyard pirates surely weren't very smart. The cannons fired on their own vessel, the volleys meeting in the air, their cannons did all but nothing to the Pirate vessel. Ax shook his head, as he walked over to one of the cannon-men and grabbed one of the cannonballs, his hand being coated in his black haki as he put his foot up on the railing, taking aim.

With a enough force to make the entire Marinara to quake, Ax threw the haki-covered cannonball as hard as he could. The ball created a luft pressure wave around it as it soared through the air at the Scrapyard ship, hitting it's second mast, blowing part of it away, cheers rang out from members of the G5, but Ax didn't have any of it. "Focus." Was all he said, as the Scrapyard ship's engines roared loud enough for the G5 to hear it, and the ship moved faster towards them.

"They're gonna ram a Marine Warship? That's an interesting strategy..." Equal parts amused as concerned.

Wincing as a few splinters from Axe's assault found their way onto the deck, some brushing against the Vice-Admirals face, she glanced around, muttering, "No one's gonna stop it? We only half half a dozen officers on board..." Letting out a reluctant sigh, Fryeja tapped her foot to the ground, realigning her shoes, before taking off in a blur, leaping off the deck. One arm gripping the side of the ship, fingertips weaseling their way in between a pair of boards, she found a position that she could only hold for a brief few seconds. That was all she needed. With her other arm, she drew her sword, taking a breath as the prow hurtled towards the Marine vessel.

Holding her blade horizontally, shrouding it with Haki, she braced herself as the Scrapyard vessel collided with her. Freyja's back elbow ran against the hull of the Marine ship, Haki protecting her as she took the brunt of the force, wincing as she strained herself to keep the Mirana from taking too much damage. There was a loud groan from the Scrapyard ship as it came too it's sudden halt, some unprepared underlings taking a tumble from the slightly quicker than expected stop. Their momentum was halted, for the moment, but as her body was under duress, Freyja wasn't exactly in the position to give the order for counterattack.

The first response did come quickly, however, the cannon team unleashing on the seemingly stunned Scrapyard Pirates. But as predicted, the more experienced members on board had no trouble dealing with the volley, but any advantaged they'd planned from their ramming tactic had been rendered null.

Cautiously creeping through the lower levels of the Marina, Irwin Kendrick had methodically followed the walls in only a way that the alert, and well some would say cowardice, could manage. Yes the bits of ramming did cause him to stumble a bit during his traversing upwards through the decks; however Irwin Kendrick managed to keep balance. After several checks of spotting to confirm that no pirates had invaded onto the ship, Irwin Kendrick made his way up to the top deck.

Well first off he was greeting by the sounds of cannonfire, screaming, and the sights of the commander of this vessel hopping off the ship to attack and board the Scrapyard Pirate's own vessel. Certainly it wasn't the approach Irwin Kendrick would take, nor did it appear that was the approach the other commander was taking. It was clear to Irwin Kendrick what his mode of operation should be regarding how to fend off this assault.

It was once again time to hide.

Surely these top decks were not going to be the only places attacked; this would provide a decent cover as Irwin Kendrick could find a nice place to wait it out. Irwin Kendrick kept an eye out as he scouted the top deck of the ship once again to see if any of the pirates boarded. However he did not do this for long as he opened his "'FUN BAG'" and plucked out a handful of nasty, spiky things. Kendrick carefully tossed them around the entrance to the lower deck while he made his descent.

With that small bit of preparation work made, Irwin closed the bag while keeping a firm grip on his pistol. If these pirates were to come and fight, Kendrick was going to make sure the environment, and of course the fight, was overwhelmingly in his favor. And so the Warrant Officer scoured for the perfect hiding spot where he could force any ambushers into a trap.

Making his way up toward the top deck, the sounds of pitched sea battle were a consistent backdrop to Yuudaina's jog topside. On his way, he stumbled as the largest impact yet struck the Marina, though it seemed no significant damage had been done, and he eventually passed another member of the crew - Warrant Officer Kendrick, if he recalled correctly - setting up what seemed to be a handful of spikes on one of the stairwells between the upper and lower decks. A smart move, that. Might catch out any enemy crew members who felt like attacking the crew of the lower deck. It did make making his way to the top deck just a bit more difficult, though.

And yet the sight of Vice-Admiral Freyja not only leading the charge, but practically holding back an entire ship, was certainly worth it. What else could one expect of a vice-admiral, but incredible feats such as these? Even the weakest of their number stood head and shoulders above just about any lesser Marine, after all, and Yuudaina felt that if he could ever measure up to her in that regard, he might just be able to die happy. Of course, if he ever managed to measure up to her in that regard, he wholly intended to have mastered Life Return to the point of eternal youth. And after that, he had a wife and child to teach that particular technique to as well... but that was beside the point. The point being, the enemy ship was wide open for an assault, now that it was in close proximity to the Marina.

'Distort: Rifle!' he called, his gauntlets shifting form to become a single oversized rifle, and his body already adjusting to precisely pick out targets, and then to pick them off one by one. The good thing about bearing a weapon that could change its form was that its precision could be very finely tuned, and that lead to very accurate ranged attacks when one focused on that property; even so, for each new Scrapyard target, he aimed for the center of mass, just in case they attempted to dodge or otherwise moved as the bullet was fired. It was somewhat surprising how fast some individuals could move if they felt like it, after all.