One Piece: The Freedom Fighters

Chapter 8: The Freedom Fighters

It's been two weeks since Vice-Admiral Buckshot's defeat, and a LOT has happened. With their leader defeated, the Marines stationed on Seagull Cove fled, taking their only Navy ship and sailing off. Buckshot was found lying on the beach bellow Seagull Rock, alive but unconscious. Ket and Sukato got themselves to the nearest hospital, and spent the next few days recovering. Once they were able to walk again, they began to tell the townsfolk of Seagully what happened. One the people heard that they've been freed, they rejoiced!

Of course, there was still the question on what to do with Buckshot. Eventually, the people came up with a crude-yet-effective solution: Put him in a sloop and send him sailing! They gave him some medicine and food before sending him off in his sleep. Since then, no more Marines have shown up. Ket and Sukato went back to the Marine base and destroyed all trace of the Mighty Marine project. While they were at it, they found out where the test subjects were being held and freed them. They were hailed as heroes for this, and Ket was given everything he needed: A new Sloop, food, and supplies! He was supposed to leave the island tomorrow morning; but first, he and Sukato decided to get a drink.

"You know, I never really had alcohol before." Ket quipped, taking a sip from his mug. It was late at night, and the two sat at one of Seagully's many bars. It was a quaint place, but pretty packed! There was a loud chatter of people celebrating, drinking, and even playing pool!

"Really?" Sukato replied, doing the same with his. "Well, what do you think?"

Ket paused for a moment before promptly spitting his beer out. "Blegh, not a fan." He shudders, putting his drink down.

Ket shrugged, taking another swig of his. "Eh, it's an acquired taste." He simply states. If that's true, it's one Ket's not gonna acquire any time soon! "So... I guess you're leaving, huh?" He asked, looking over to Ket.

Ket nodded slightly. "Yeah, about that..." Ket started, sighing a little. "Well... I was wondering... If you wanted to go with me?" Ket asked, looking to Sukato with a smile.

"I- What?" Sukato replied, clearly surprised.

"I... I guess I should explain." Ket said, looking up to the roof of the bar. "Remember when we first met, and how I told you I used to be a Marine?" Ket asked, looking down at his clothes. Some nice townsfolk had given him some new clothes: A flashy red and yellow T-Shirt and a snazzy pair of jeans. It was far more comfy than his Marine uniforms, and stylish too! "I... Wasn't lying."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Sukato replies. In retrospect, the big X on Ket's shirt should have made that apparent. "Where are you going with this?"

"Well... Let me start from the beginning." Ket blinked, idly poking his mug of beer. "It all began a few months ago..."

...

Stronghelm; one of the largest islands in the North Blue. It used to be known for being a sprawling city and a hub for trade, but now it's revered for something else: Being the Navy's base of operations in the North Blue! In the center of the city stood a towering Navy fortress. It was here where orders were received from Marineford, captured pirates were held, and new recruits were trained. And trained they were!

"PUSH LIKE YOU MEAN IT, MAGGOTS!" A booming voice yelled. This was Vice-Admiral Lancelot, the leader of Stronghelm and one of the prominent figures in the World Government's takeover on the North Blue. Despite the many duties he had to carry out as part of the position, he still made time to train his men! "COME ON! I COULD MOVE FIVE OF THESE. ONE HANDED!"

Before Lancelot were his men, about 1,000 Marines both new and veteran. They were on the base's training field; a large plot of grass with a running track stretched around it. On the field, a series of heavy stone blocks were laid out, and groups of Marines were trying to push them across. Lancelot said this was in order to build strength, though his training methods were always... extreme. A lot of the Marines were moaning and groaning, complaining nonstop about the impossibility of the task... But one in particular kept their hopes high.