The Maw wasn't just any base; it was an impregnable fortress etched into the rugged face of a jagged cliff, with treacherous whirlpools swirling menacingly below and dense fog shrouding its secrets. Scores of pirate crews, each more notorious than the last, swore allegiance to a single banner that flapped ominously in the salty breeze. Deep within the lower catacombs, the air was thick and damp, where hostages languished in the cold, stone confines. The pirate lord who reigned over this maritime fortress was known only as Grinlock, a man whose reputation for cruelty was matched by the staggering bounty of 370 million that hung over him like a storm cloud.
Lila stood resolute on the deck of the Tenshū, her hair whipping about her face as the wind curled and tugged at her cloak. Her eyes narrowed with determination as she addressed her crew. "We go in quietly," she instructed, her voice barely audible above the howling winds, "and we don't make a sound until we leave with the hostages. If things take a turn, then we kill them swiftly."
Lila has no qualms about killing because she believes showing mercy only allows people to repeat their misdeeds. She thinks some individuals don't deserve a second chance, as they'll just revert to their harmful ways. If someone has spent years being cruel and hurting innocents without remorse, can they truly change? It might seem hypocritical since she is a killer herself, but she directs her anger towards the guilty, not the innocent.
The Infiltration Teams.
The Driftborn is divided into three strike squads, each with a mission as clear as the night sky. Lila, with her sharp eyes and nimble fingers, Zin, whose calm demeanor masked a mind always calculating, and Vexa, quick as a shadow, would scale the rugged cliffside. They aimed to slip through the narrow vents carved into the rock, their task to disable the fortress defenses with precision.
Meanwhile, Buzz, a hulking figure with a booming voice that could shake the ground, Riven, small but swift, Gorren, with his unyielding strength, and Milo, whose laughter could cut through the tension like a knife, would storm towards the eastern gate. Their role was to create chaos, a diversion to draw eyes away from the others.
In the depths below, Juno, with her silent steps and keen senses, and Veyra, whose resolve was as solid as the stone walls around them, would navigate the dimly lit lower levels. Their mission was to locate the hostages and guide them to safety, a beacon in the darkness.
Each team moved like phantoms, their presence felt only in the ripple of the air they disturbed. They were called the Driftborn because they had no single place to call home. Each day, they wandered the world untethered, though in truth, it was their thoughts that drifted, haunted by the shadows of their pasts. Yet, they pressed on, a testament to their resilience and unyielding spirit.
Until the first scream pierced the night air.
Buzz, with a maniacal grin, hurled a barrage of fiery grenades that exploded against the fortress's outer wall, creating a blinding firestorm. "Knock knock, scumbags! Time to owe us your lives," he bellowed above the roar of flames.
From a perch on a crumbling ledge, Riven squinted through the scope of his rifle, picking off enemy snipers with lethal precision before they could so much as reach for their radios.
Zin, a phantom in the night, moved with supernatural grace through the shadows. His blades, the tongas, glinted like jagged flashes of lightning as they sliced through the air, finding their marks with deadly accuracy.
Vexa hunched over her portable console, fingers flying across the keyboard as she hacked into the fortress's grid. The alarm system, mid-blare, sputtered and fell silent under her prowess, leaving the air eerily quiet.
Gorren, with a low growl, summoned his Devil Fruit powers, causing the earth to tremble. Rocks erupted from the ground, suspended in mid-air before he hurled them with devastating force at the enemy, shattering bones and crushing life from their bodies in an instant.
Milo, a blur of motion, darted in and out of the enemy's line of fire. His speed was unmatched, and his flexibility allowed him to evade incoming attacks effortlessly. With a feral grin, he brandished his knuckle-spiked gun, slamming it into the heads of his foes. Each brutal strike left his fists dripping with blood, a gruesome testament to his relentless assault.
Lila swept through the corridor like a tempest, her Conqueror's Haki pulsing with such intensity that guards crumpled to the ground unconscious with just a flick of her eyes. Her voice was a low, fierce whisper as she addressed the empty air, "You took the wrong people. Now we take everything."
Behind her, Zin and Vexa followed her lead with practiced stealth. Vexa's nimble fingers danced expertly across her portable keyboard, her eyes focused and determined, ensuring the enemy's security system was rendered useless. Meanwhile, Zin twirled his tonfas with a confident smirk, the polished metal glinting under the dim lights. It was game time, and he could feel the collective focus and determination of the entire team, each member locked into their mission with unwavering seriousness.
Juno and Veyra navigated through the corridor, their footsteps echoing off the cold, stone walls. They finally reached a cramped chamber where they found the prisoners — dozens of civilians huddled together, their wrists and ankles bound with heavy chains. Fear was etched into their faces, their eyes wide and pleading.
A small child, with dirt-smudged cheeks and trembling lips, looked up at them with a mixture of hope and disbelief. "Are you the storm?" the child asked, voice barely a whisper.
Juno crouched down, her eyes softening as she met the child's gaze. "No," she replied gently, her lips curving into a reassuring smile. "But she is our leader." Her voice held a note of pride, a familiar warmth she felt every time she spoke those words. It was a statement she relished, an affirmation of their strength and unity.
Beside her, Veyra raised her hand, and a burst of icy energy radiated from her fingertips. The locks encasing the chains glistened momentarily before shattering into fragments, the frozen devil fruit power at work.
"Time to go," Veyra announced, her voice steady and determined, as the prisoners began to stir, the weight of their captivity lifting at last.
The Pirate Awakens.
In the lit depths of the fortress, Grinlock shifted on his stone throne, the cold air whispering through the cavernous chamber. His massive frame stretched, revealing muscles hardened like steel beneath his weathered armor. His iron jaws clenched and unclenched, emitting a low growl that echoed like gravel grinding underfoot. Before him, a cracked and flickering monitor cast ghostly shadows across his scarred face, displaying the tumultuous scene outside.
The screen showed a battlefield where flames licked the night sky, and the unmistakable figures of the Driftborn moved with lethal precision. A cruel smile tugged at the corners of Grinlock's mouth, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "So the Driftborn came to play," he muttered, his voice a rumble like distant thunder. He leaned forward, fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest, eager to see if these intruders could truly bleed.