150 The ripples continue

A shudder ran through Sengoku's spine as he stared at the cowering transponder snail. He had just received a report from Garp, and it forced a whole slew of curses from his mouth.

His rimmed glasses flashed as he slowly sighed, reclining slightly on his chair as he sighed in exhaustion. His dark eyes closed as the bags under them gained prominence, ever since information came to him of the clash between the two emperors he had been staring down receiving call after call while he attempted to make a coherent battle map off the fragmented parchment on his desk.

Exhaustion flowed through his system as he contemplated inaction. He was tired, and if what Garp said, was anything to go by, he would have to pay a personal visit to a certain man.

He was aware to a frightening degree how protective the sea faring behemoth was, especially towards his adoptive children. Nevertheless, the bridge was not truly burnt as of yet, Whitebeard would not wage all out war jeopardizing everyone on his crew to avenge a slight injury on one of his commanders.

As far as Sengoku was concerned, Thatch's situation was not truly lethal, it was at most a sign of extreme exhaustion, not something that would cripple the man for the rest of his life at least, and that meant that things had not gone past the limit of reconciliation.

The price that he would have to pay however was something that he truly shuddered to think of.

With a surging heart, he slowly reached across from his desk to a particularly smug looking snail.

This snail only connected the old Fleet Admiral to a single other one, the transponder owned by the five elder stars to be precise.

With a deep sigh, he pulled up the organism each ring, forcing the man to calm down and squash any emotion that he felt. Every time he conversed with the manipulative group of old men he would be left drained, and this time he was sure the grilling would be many fold stronger.

"Fleet Admiral." an emotionless voice called out from the other end.

"We have a situation." Sengoku replied no prelude to his statement. The lesser time the two groups spent in conversation the easier the old man would be able to sleep at night.

The other line remained silent, a single impatient snort encouraging him to continue. "Borsolino was rescued, but the mission did not go unnoticed. There was altercation with the Whitebeards." he summarised succinctly.

"I was under the impression that 'The Fist' was on board the rescue mission?" the other side asked (clearly the bald man from the scratchy tone that he employed).

"Garp was among the ones that were dispatched, as a last resort he was ordered to lie low, even if the marines were discovered on the island the three Vice Admirals would not illicit as drastic of a response from the old emperor, or at least that was the original plan.

(A/N serious= will take a while to recover; Lethal= possibility of death is high)

The other side has three casualties, with two from Jagged Dagger's crew, who Borsolino claims he injured enough to seriously maim if not outright cripple. Thatch of the Whitebeards also suffered serious damage though likelihood of the injury lasting is extremely small.

The issue is that Garp had to take action and faced off against Jagged Dagger, and from the information that we received, Jagged Dagger managed to wound him. The injury is deep but manageable seeing as the method utilized was hastily initiated. That being the case however, Jagged Dagger can now with surety be said to be on par with Admirals. Thus, a revision of his bounty is necessary.

How do we deal with Whitebeard?" Sengoku finished ending the impromptu briefing.

A lengthy pause followed, and then the five elder stars began to speak.

******

Whitebeard growled in annoyance as he stared at a few of his children horsing around on deck, with his beefy hands he began to nurse the bridge of his nose.

"YOU BRATS! GET BACK TO WORK!!" he bellowed aloud as he slammed the armrest to his chair in mock annoyance. It was only the first light of the morning and though he was not personally hung over from the exhaustion of the previous days activates the same could not be said for the newer additions to the mammoth crew.

The few on deck stopped immediately, sufficiently chastised. There were few rules on the Moby Dick, chief among them being not to ruin the old man's retirement life. However much the older denizens on the crew disagreed it was plain for all to see. (The retirement I mean.)

A small sigh later the old man began to raise a bottle to his lips, it was the brew that he got almost exclusively for himself, and every guzzle could cause his tongue to shrivel and his throat to burn. He fucking loved this stuff.

Ever since information on the clash between the rabid beast and the sugar high mad women had reached him, a kernel of worry had begun to sprout within his mind. Would his children be all right?

"Pops!" A sudden voice called out, breaking him from his contemplation, as he stared at the young man running towards him from across the deck he could not help but worry. It was Tiny Timmy, the man in charge of receiving and processing all the information that the out stationed teams reported, and right now there were only two teams that had been dispatched.

"It's from Marco!" his squeaky voice called as he kneeled down exhaling deeply.

Then the old emperor frowned.