Zoro Roronoa is a retired black-ops agent suffering from PTSD; after moving to a small town and getting married in hopes of leaving that life behind him, a chance meeting with a smarmy, blond paramedic changes all of that. Thus ensues a summer of te...
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A couple hopeless months adrift had found Zoro in a small pub on the coast of Croatia; trying to find any semblance of meaning to his life beyond his former career. Zoro cradled his drink solemnly in the corner as the agents words continued to run through his mind as he tried desperately to understand what he was expected to do with his life now.
Work had been his home. He had nowhere to go, no one waiting for him; he could disappear right now and no one would ever miss him. The past ten years of his life in espionage had been his obsession and now he was expected to simply let it go and begin anew...
So he found himself wandering in a desperate attempt to find something to keep him grounded once more, maybe somewhere he could stop and live out the rest of his miserable days. Weeks spent hiking the mountains in Laos, a few months living in a cabin in north-east Russia, several days on a beach in South Africa, and countless other places. None of them speaking to him in anyway, and all of it unable to break through the daunting, numb sensation that had taken over his mind the moment he had been discharged.
Now here he sat, attempting to drown himself in liquor – such as he had been trying to due for the past several months – in hopes that it might fix whatever felt so broken in him. Raising the glass to his lips he took a large swig before setting it back down and staring at the amber dregs hopelessly.
There was a loud crash accompanied by the shattering of glass as the entire room froze to glance over at the bar where an impeccably dressed woman stood. A long stiletto heel pressing into the windpipe of the man that was currently on the floor cradling what had to be broken nose as she flipped her elegant hair over her shoulder with a huff and exclaimed haughtily down to him, "That's sexual harassment."
The man whimpered pitifully as she finally pulled her heel away and turned back to the bar, downing the last of her martini before pulling on a pair of black leather gloves and snatching up a large case from by her stool. She strode out of the establishment with a confident sway that had many a man jumping out of her way as Zoro watched her leave; eyes falling to the case in interest as there seemed to be much more to her than met the eye.
'Find yourself a girl...'
She was a girl...
Downing the last of his drink, he slapped a bill on the table and followed after her with purpose, determined to find out exactly who she was and why she quite obviously had a sniper rifle in her possession.
~X~
With the last few precise cuts from Chopper, the halves of the cast fell away to reveal Zoro's bare arm for the first time in weeks. The skin was a tad paler than the rest, and even with his continued activity, the muscles had atrophied enough that there was a notable difference between his left and right forearm; there would be a couple months of therapy needed to compensate for that.
