143 Landing in oppressive silence.

When Marco breached the tree line, there were a lot of things that he expected to see. His comrade somehow injured, or in some way gruesomely hurt.

What he did see however was Thatch with blood trailing down his forehead with a terrifying array of minute holes on his torso. The Whitebeard stood tall as he held his sword though the way it was held made it expressly clear that he had no way of using the metallic weapon usefully.

His opponent was no better though. Marco could at least take some measure of satisfaction from that.

The Vice Admiral stood stooped as his breath rattled against his chest. His teeth shone out scarily as a scarlet line ran across his otherwise pearly white teeth. He seemed at a glance, so weak that a single breath would topple him. But in his eyes, Marco saw a stubborn vigor that pushed the man forward still.

"Oh would you look at that… The First Division Commander of the great and powerful Whitebeard Pirates has returned to gang up on poor old me!~ Well Then, Come on!" Borsolino roared as his fingers twitched, rays of light coloring his fingertips as an ugly grimace colored his face.

He could flee sure. But in the condition that he was in, where would he go?

He did not know where he was, and within the New World Whitebeard held a multitude of territories within his grasp. He could escape, but the neighboring towns folk would not give him aid. He was too weak to cross the seas with his strength, heck he could barely stand without seeing double!

With a steely look he prepared to jump forward, putting his all in an attack.

Before he did however, he was caught off guard. Thatch had tackled him to the floor!

A rabid look overtook the pirate as he began to ravage the man under him. Unarmed blow after unarmed blow rammed into his person, each colored in a strange hue of black and red, a mixture of his Haki and blood.

Borsolino buckled as a dull pain ran through his head, before he began to struggle too.

"Marco! He is Mine!!" Thatch bit out. His rage turning his usually clear eyes into a clouded red. As he began tearing at the man, his nails digging into the other man's meager clothes that remained, his entire demeanor the very picture of a desperately fighting wild animal.

Borsolino jumped forward, his hands ramming straight at his assailants neck as he attempted to strangle the rabid man.

Thatch growled darkly as he rammed his knee forward, catching the off guard Vice Admiral right in the crotch. Suffice to say that he was satisfied at the flinch that he heard.

But the flurry was soon at its end, with labored breath the pirate brought himself to his full height before shooting the gob smacked Marco a glare with a surprising degree of clarity.

**********

Garp could not help but look at the inert sky with a baleful glare. He smelt a hint of blood in the air, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he despised it with all the bristled hair of his military trimmed beard.

The Vice Admiral was sick. Not physically no, but mentally at the way that things had played out.

"Search." he barked out softly as he gazed at the island. They were on a ticking timer and he did not want to be here when the timer began to chime.

A bellow of robes sounded softly behind him as the two young Vice Admirals leapt of the ship. With purposeful kicks at the empty air they made it ashore.

"You. Keep the engines running but ensure that we don't go any further in. The last thing that we need is to get caught in the shallows and lend up run aground."

The Captain nodded his assent as he ran into the control room.

Garp looked at the ship. Catching the eye of one of the captains that had sailed with him for a substantial amount of time he nodded subtly.

He would go ashore to ensure that no one crept up on the ship. On land he would also be able to hurry to the young Vice Admirals aid if it turned out that they got in over their head.

With a graceful leap he cleared the frothing waves in front of the ship, landing noiselessly on the loose and damp sand.

With a swish of his cloak he was gone, disappearing into the foliage that surrounded the beach.

On the ship, the men could not help but gulp. Sweat running down their head.

Even Captain Roman, who had at the very beginning of the day boisterously claimed that they would have the emperors in chains by the end of the night was no different.

He had seen the chaos that two newly anointed emperors could bring. He could only shudder at the outcome that would arise if they ever offended the 'Strongest man' in the world.

With every minute thrum of the ship's engine he could not help but jump. Feeling his heart weaken with every successive jolt of fright that ran through his spine.

As the men pinned their eyes directly at the shore line, they could not help but shudder as from the very corner of the thick vegetation a young man ran forward. On his back the body of a grotesquely maimed child jiggled around helplessly, while in his arms an equally comatose man lolled pathetically.

Was it the nerves, or the oppressive silence that made him do it?

For as the man ran across the sandy recesses of the beach, a burst of bullet fire sounded through the inert air. And as if in slow motion shot towards the young man's shoulder.