With his feet propped atop the scuff mark covered surface of his desk, Captain Piatt simply studied the irate, child sized girl before him as she recounted a rather interesting tale- of which he was rather certain the majority was overexaggerated. If her story was to be believed, "Fire-Fist" Ace had walked into a popular bar last night and had through his actions- which she skimmed over to an extent- insulted the entirety of the female marine population. Not only that, according to her, but perhaps the entire marine force.

It was with all the control he had over his expressions that he managed to keep a straight face through her entire story. When she'd finished, he picked the important details out of the mess, as well as what he deemed a rather interesting request on her part. Instead of giving her an immediate response, however, he mused the idea over, drumming his fingers on the top of his knees as he did so.

She wanted him to give her permission to take one of the docked boats with a small crew to go after the pirate. It wasn't an unreasonable request, he acknowledged. With the little knowledge he'd managed to gain from the higher-ups about the pirate in question, it was believed that left unchecked the boy might become a bigger problem over time. Not many had given the rookie a second thought- however- considering that reports of him and his currently small crew had only just begun to pour in. As far as he was aware the only current reason that the boy even had a bounty was because he'd set fire to a few vessels and because of reasons that the higher-ups insisted on keeping to themselves.

If he sent her after the boy, they could be heading off a problem. He could also- however- be sacrificing one of his command that had a rather promising future before her, as he had no way of knowing how she would fare upon facing off with the pirate. At eighteen the girl had already climbed to the rank of lieutenant, given time he had no doubt she'd continue to climb through the ranks without problem. Plus, there was the matter of the influence that had helped propel her career so far- her admiral brother. How would the man take it if Piatt simply allowed her to set sail with the ending destination and time-frame unknown?

"Well?" she demanded.

His lips twitched. If Irie had one major fault as a marine it was that when her temper had flared she made no effort to hide her disregard for authority. He had to wonder if that could be faulted to her brother's lax influence. The male was rarely riled- so he found it hard to imagine that she would have been disciplined for insubordination when traveling with him.

"I'm thinking," he answered cryptically.

Behind her, Kennit settled his hand atop her shoulder, a sheepish expression coloring his face.

"Perhaps we should give him time, Irie," he suggested. "Go take care of that hang-"

"Your voice is making forgetting about it difficult," she retorted before her friend had finished.

The boy simply laughed instead of being insulted, something that Piatt could only shake his head at.

"I would think it would be soothing," Kennit replied with a rather playful smile. "What with it being me and all."

"Shut the hell up, Kennit."

"Make--"

"I'll allow it," Piatt announced decisively a moment later.

The two younger marines stared at him- dumbfounded. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the sight- apparently even his petitioner hadn't actually expected him to grant the request, let alone her partner. His expression, however, changed to serious as he quickly began drawing the rules he'd settled upon to the front of his mind, shifting his hand so that a single finger laid against his knee.

"There are conditions, however," Piatt announced, causing both marines to completely focus on the man. "The first being that you must take a Den Den Mushi with you, large enough to be able to send regular reports back to the base from your ship. You may take baby snails if you would like, but the regular is a must."

Irie simply nodded, the request was reasonable enough. It would be strange if they'd been set free without any means of communication back to the base.

"Secondly," he continued, ticking out a second finger against his knee. "While I'm allowing for an open time-frame with the fact that chases can drag on when taken to the open sea, if at any time it is decided the chase is over, you're to return to base as quickly as possible. This includes if, and most likely when, your brother returns to check on you he disapproves of your escapade."

This time, she hesitated before nodding agreement. Her opinion on the matter was rather obvious to the captain- she disliked the idea of being forced to adhere to the orders of anyone, no matter however high their rank, if it contrasted against her own wishes.

"Finally, as I doubt this will be an easy capture, I may send give you other targets as this goes if information places them in your area. It would be to our advantage to ensure that your adventure focuses on more than just this one pirate."

The nod came once again, easier this time.

"Understood."

"I'll send word to a few other of the marines stationed here. I'm sure there are a few rookies willing to follow you on a hunt. The supplies and crew can probably be drug together in a matter of hours."

They were marines, after all. They were always prepared to set to sea if called to deal with pirates or other criminals- although he had to question if there was really anything that was ever more troublesome than pirates anymore.

"Grab your things and report to the docks by five."

____________________________________________

Irie- her massive headache shoved to the back of her mind- eyed the items laid over her bed with a furrowed brow. She was well aware that half of the items she's selected in consideration of packing were far from what she should place in her back. Perhaps having more than just a dash of vanity in her system, the girl had a love for pretty clothing. Something which was far from the practical wear that one should consider when they were about to set sail on a trip with undefined time-constraints.

With a sigh, she admitted defeat to more whimsical self on the matter and shoved a few of the less practical dresses and skirts into the bottom of her bag before shoving sets of capris, marine jackets, and tank-tops of varying colors above them. Then, to appease the marine in her, she pulled open the bottom drawer beneath her bed and proceeded to one-by-one drop the various backup bladed weapons she had stored up into the bag. One might call her paranoid- and one dark-haired marine had done so on several occasions- but she simply saw it as being prepared. If she wasn't ready to fight, then what was the purpose of the trip?

That settled she quickly checked over the state of the straps holding her two sheaths in place, making sure there was nothing wrong with the leather, and plucked her simple, black-handled katana from the bed. Once it'd been fitted into its sheath, she moved onto the other weapon, a short blade with several notches along the metal. The only item of sentimental value she kept on her- a weapon that had been wielded by her mother once upon a time. The name of the blade- she'd been told- was a sword-breaker. The use was in the title, the notches would catch the delicate metal that made up the length of a blade and with the right leverage, send cracks through it. Even without the cracks, it provided a chance to catch the enemies weapon long enough for her to strike a blow.

Which was why when asked about her reasons for carrying a weapon that had once belonged to a pirate she could truthfully answer that it was for simple, practical reasons.

Not because she had any actual attachment to the woman she could hardly remember.

"Irie, you finished packing?"

Startled from her thoughts, she quickly sheathed the blade and zipped her back shut before hoisting it over her shoulder.

"Yeah! Give me a sec'!"

Quickly glancing over her room, ticking off anything that she might need from her mental list, she came to the decision that she was indeed finished. Within a second she'd seized the brown hat from her bed, shoved it atop her head, and spun for the door.

"Let's go!"

As she called out, she flung the door open, effectively nailing Kennit in the face. Instead of apologizing, she rolled her eyes in reaction. The man in question let out a dramatic yelp, dropping his bag to the floor as both of his hands clamped over his face.

"It's your own fault for standing directly outside my door," Irie informed him.

Kennit laughed, dropping his hands from his face as he did. Within a moment he'd swiped his bag from the floor and replaced it over his shoulder.

"I believe the more appropriate response is, 'Oh, I'm sorry, dear, are you okay?'"

She rose a brow.

"Dear?"

He simply shrugged in response.

"Well, yeah, this is my fantasy, remember? You talk however I want you to. And of course, my response would be, 'I'm fine, thank-you so much for asking. It's wonderful to know that you care.'"

Irie snorted, shifting her eyes from his face and over his form. Beyond the red state of his nose, the rather well-built male was perfectly fine. His dark, dusty-brown hair was trimmed so that it only had a centimeter of length beyond the bottom of his Marine logo stamped hat. Beyond that, his tanned figure was draped in the typical uniform worn by a marine- his rank as an ensign not yet giving him enough status to shift from the typical uniform even if he'd chosen to do so. The large duffle bag hanging over his shoulder was stuffed to the brim, strange shapes sticking out in various positions against the thin fabric.

"Lovely. You're ready to go as well, I'll assume?"

"... yeah."

That settled, Irie skirted around him and promptly started for the front door. With a good-natured sigh, Kennit followed ensuite. As they walked, he noted that her appearance hadn't changed, from her typical marine jacket, dark-tank, and dark capris. The only notable difference was the appropriate compass settled atop the back of her wrist.

The trip to the docks was silent, mainly because their apartment was only a stone's throw away from the small, stone-lined path that lead to it. It was barely any time at all that they found themselves standing before the appropriate ship, a meager crew of rookies visible upon the deck. Kennit- the reasonable one of the duo- instantly started up the loading ramp of the atypical marine vessel. Irie- being the strange member of their partnership and feeling that a demonstration was in order- paused just beside the ramp and closed her eyes.

Within a moment of concentration, she felt her form shift. Feathers coated her skin, her usually sharp yellow eyes growing even more hawk-like as her childish form expanded somewhat to match the activation of the hybrid form of her Zoan Devil Fruit. As soon as the change was complete, she snapped her eyes open and pushed off against the rough wooden dock, her feet landing atop the edge of the railing ringing the ship. Several startled gazes met her appearance, giving her the chance to carefully note each figure before her in the moments following as they gathered their wits.

The first to recover was a rather towering female, a rookie who probably stood a good head or two taller than Irie- although that wasn't saying much. The woman's dark, raven colored locks were pulled to the side of her face in a simple, single-braid style that left her dark brown eyes completely visible to the world. The rest of her figure matched her height, complete with compact muscles and tanned skin.

At Irie's studious gaze, the woman ducked her head uncomfortably.

"Ensign Myra."

Irie simply inclined her head in acknowledgement of the woman's name and rank and switched her gaze to the next member of her crew.

The second was a male with choppy, dirty-blonde hair, who thankfully was perhaps only three inches taller than her five foot self. His eyes were a strange, pale, green, skin a mixture of a somewhat tan, and the pinkish color of a person who despite their best efforts, couldn't keep themselves from burning in the sun. His muscles, like Myra's, were compact, the results of the training marines were put through. The interesting fact about the male as if Irie was right, he was years- at least two if not three- younger than herself, something that struck her as strange.

Why would the Marines take in someone barely more than a child and already have them deemed trained well enough to be assigned to a mission lead by her- a girl who was barely more than a rookie herself?

"Ian. I... cook."

She relaxed slightly at the explanation. He was a chef- no doubt a fighter as well since he wore the uniform of a marine- but at least it somewhat eased the strange feeling he gave her when considering how young he was.

The final recruit was yet another female, a woman of average height with dirty-blonde hair that matched the younger male's in every way except length, in which it fell just past her slender shoulders. Her age, if Irie had to guess, would have been in her mid-twenties, her figure draped in a simple peach blouse and faded jean combo. Settled at her feet was a black bag, something which made the scene make sense to Irie a moment even as the woman opened her mouth.

"Dr. Isobel Carr," she explained, a barely noticeable, and therefore unidentifiable lit to her words- something that Irie imagined was probably native to her home island if the way she'd introduced herself was of any indication. "Ian's my little brother. He insisted on coming, so they allowed me to tag along as the ship's doctor."

The mystery somewhat further solved of why such a young recruit had been allowed aboard- Irie simply nodded and dropped to the wooden deck. A five man crew. Not her preference, but easily manageable. Given the small size of their base, she should have guessed that even with the generous gift of being allowed to take off after the pirate, she wouldn't be given that many marines.

"I'll be quick about introductions. As you've already guessed, I'm Lieutenant Skytte Irie, the one who shall be heading this ship. As you no doubt know, our goal is to capture and return with the Spade Pirates. I don't ask much, except that you listen and obey orders and refrain from fighting among yourselves- or at least to an extent that would be harmful to the competition of our task. If the appearance I am showing should tell you anything, it's that I have the ability to curb any such fights or any insubordination without question."

A minor white-lie. She rarely used her fruit to fight, as it was much more convenient to do so in her natural, petite form, given that her style focused on speed and the slightly more cumbersome, large form of her fruit was annoying to deal with.

"Something that you'll learn rather quickly is that I'm not a patient person. I'm done talking, so let's get the loading board up and set sail. We have a pirate to catch."

A/N: I realized about mid-way through this chapter... this book will have a lot of OCs. Since it's timeline is before the actual series, I might pick out a few characters here and there, Ace, Kuzan, other already chosen significant ones from the series, but there will be an equally large cast of original characters. Hope you don't mind!