Encounter

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the three reconvened at the place where the naval ship is moored, and exactly on the deck of the ship where you can watch the last moments of the sunset and the stars as well in a perfect view. They shared their findings, piecing together a possible route that the Red Bull might have taken. The outpost was abuzz with marines preparing for the next day, sharpening weapons, and discussing strategies.

Then about an hour and a half later, at dinner time, Smoker gathered everyone around a large table in the mess hall, which was filled with the aroma of a hearty evening meal. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. Plates of food were passed around, and the marines ate with gusto, their conversations a mix of duty and camaraderie.

"It looks like our best bet is to head south," Raoul concluded, tracing the map with his finger. "If these rumors are true, we should be able to catch up to him before he causes any more trouble."

Smoker nodded. "Agreed. We set sail at first light. Make sure everything is ready."

That night, as the marines prepared for the next leg of their journey, Raoul took a moment to reflect. The island of Saita, with its peace and simplicity, reminded him of why he had joined the Marines. It was places like this, and the people who lived there, that they were sworn to protect.

The next morning, the ship departed Saita, the marines working in harmony as they set a course for the southern islands. The mood on board was one of focused determination. The Red Bull was a formidable foe, but they were ready.

As the ship sailed into the open sea once more, Raoul stood at the bow, his thoughts on the mission ahead. The journey had just begun, and with it, the promise of adventure, challenges, and the pursuit of justice. The sea stretched out before them, vast and endless, a reminder that their duty was as boundless as the horizon.

And so, with the wind at their backs and the sun rising on a new day, the marines continued their voyage, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

[ 2nd cour : Encounter ]

The marine ship plowed steadily through the choppy waters of the New World, the horizon stretching endlessly ahead. The sky had begun to darken with the approach of evening, casting a somber mood over the crew, because the whole day had passed and they could not find the black market ship even though they had determined its path and followed it. Raoul leaned against the railing, the cool breeze carrying the scent of salt and seaweed, a reminder of the vast world that lay beyond their immediate mission.

"Just another routine patrol," he muttered to himself, eyes scanning the horizon. But deep down, he knew there was no such thing in the unpredictable world of the Grand Line.

Suddenly, a lookout's shout shattered the evening calm. "Pirate ship spotted off the port bow!"

Smoker was immediately on his feet, his eyes narrowing as he peered through a spyglass. "I was about to lose hope of finding them... Prepare to engage," he ordered, his voice calm but authoritative. "Raoul, Coby, get ready."

The ship buzzed with activity as marines rushed to their positions. The cannons were loaded, and the sails were adjusted to give chase. Raoul and Coby stood by Smoker, their expressions tense but determined.

As the marine ship closed the distance, the pirate vessel came into clearer view. It was a battered old sloop, its sails patched and its hull scarred from countless skirmishes. A ragged Jolly Roger fluttered in the wind, signaling its defiance.

On the pirate ship, the crew was in disarray. Their captain, a burly man with a thick beard and a menacing scowl, barked orders. "We need to lose them! Dump some of the cargo if you have to. We can't let the marines catch us with this shipment."

A wiry crewman, his face etched with fear, protested. "But Captain, this is a delivery for the bosses. If we lose it—"

"We'll lose more than that if we get caught!" the captain roared. "Move it!"

The pirates scrambled to obey, throwing crates overboard in a desperate bid to lighten their load and increase their speed. The marine ship, however, was faster and better equipped. Despite their efforts, the distance between the two ships steadily decreased.

Hours passed as the chase dragged on. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the water. The night sky glittered with stars, and the only sounds were the crash of waves and the groan of timbers under strain. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

Finally, after nearly six hours, the marine ship drew alongside the pirate vessel. Smoker gave the order to fire, and a volley of cannonballs roared through the night, striking the pirate ship and sending splinters flying. The pirates returned fire, but their shots were wild and panicked.

"Prepare to board!" Smoker commanded. "Raoul, Coby, you're with me."

The marines threw grappling hooks, securing the two ships together. Raoul leaped onto the pirate ship, his sword drawn. Coby followed, his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Smoker led the charge, his presence a formidable sight.

The pirates, though outmatched, fought fiercely. Steel clashed against steel, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle. Raoul moved with precision, parrying blows and striking back with calculated force. Coby, though less experienced, held his ground, his determination unwavering.

Smoker, his Jitte in hand, cut through the chaos with practiced ease. He targeted the pirate captain, their clash a violent dance of strength and skill. The captain, for all his bravado, was no match for Smoker's seasoned expertise. With a final, decisive blow, Smoker disarmed him and knocked him to the deck.

The remaining pirates, seeing their leader defeated, quickly surrendered. The marines rounded them up, securing them with ropes and gathering the scattered cargo.

In the midst of all this chaos, while some of the pirates were trying to throw themselves into the water trying to escape, Raoul put his hand on the right side of his waist, saying after he looked at the reflection of his face in his sword: "Are the vice admirals forced to engage in such ridiculous fights as well? It would be better for the so-called Red Bull and his crew to be stronger than this..."

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