169 The bloody Mary

The Rear Admiral that had been placed there was now the subject of a Naval sendoff, and those that survived the collapse of his armada now requested to either be transferred to a more peaceful location or all out retirement!

The smear propaganda that the newly surfaced news document that had housed the interview with the best rookie pirate on the seas did the marines no service. Its columns were rife with horrific documentation of every single Marine fuckup since the times of Roger, though thankfully none of the more damaging documentation had come to light yet.

Nonetheless with the appearance of this positively slanderous slew of information, the recruitment of able-bodied individuals from two of the four blues had begun to taper. So much so in fact that the erstwhile Admiral Z who had been till this time filing complaint after complaint at the massive stock of people that he had to train, now had enough time to visit the Fleet Admiral from time to time to complain over tea!

Of course, as Z's close friend, Sengoku was glad that his friend had gotten the time to meet him. Unfortunately, however during these interactions, Sengoku was reminded of his fractured relationship with the figures of his generation. Of his original friends he had only Garp and Tsuru to confide in, and even among them he could not possibly divulge all that he had done to maintain peace within the world.

In this time of Marine decline, he could not fathom how, or even why such a headache inducing figure had risen. Every time he remembered the state that Borsolino was in, he would gnash his teeth. Not in a long time had the hand of Justice suffered so much damage as it had now.

The most infuriating part of this all was, that he could not possibly reveal any of it without tearing through the already flimsy façade that the marines possessed.

This report, however, would allow him a certain level of catharsis, and for that he was grateful.

With a grim face and an almost melliferous glare the old Fleet Admiral brought his officiated pen down, sanctioning the rookie's new bounty.

At the level that it was at, it was only a few numbers shy of world shaking figures like Shanks and Mihawk, though Sengoku still had hope that the latter would accept his invitation and take his post amidst the warlords of the sea. After all, within the current roster there was no one that could match him.

Talking about rookies however, Sengoku's worries were still not over. For there was not just a single figure that had arrived in the New World in search of Roger's thrice damned treasure.

She was someone whose history was unknown. All Sengoku knew was that her name became prominent within Paradise a few years ago. First for her cataclysmic take down of G12 in Holiday island where she was reported to have torn down several captain level figures personally.

Then she had cut a bloody swathe through the whole of paradise, even at one point giving the well-fortified G8 a visit, though the Vice Admiral that had been placed there had dispatched of her forces quite easily and even beaten her back into hiding purportedly injuring her seriously.

Now three years later, whispers of her bloody Jolly Roger made itself known again. This time however, it wasn't in the tamer seas of Paradise but in the dastardly waters of the New World.

She always targeted bases at the periphery, taking out as many marines as she could before sinking beneath the sea and escaping to god knows where.

The Kuja pirates had even been contracted to surveil the area for her, yet not a single trace of her was found.

Over the past few months, she had hit over three bases, but this time she had done enough damage to actually have Sengoku personally want to strangle her neck.

She had crippled a Rear Admiral in a single attack, according to the heavily maimed survivors of the incident. Here, Sengoku finally received actual information of her.

According to them, she was an old woman with a scar running down her face. A dreaded expression and a fiery glare that could fuse their legs to the ground. Her voice was scratchy and cold akin to raw nails rubbed on metal, and she wielded what looked to be a saber of sorts, though she more often used her hands then her blade.

Her crew was almost fully comprised of equally scarred women, with a small minority of men being a part of them. They rarely spoke, ignoring any bystander who did not seem to swear allegiance to the Naval flag.

Her ship itself looked like a grotesque union of multiple ships, with what looked to be stitch marks running all over their sides.

The most frightening thing about her ships though, was not her weird aesthetic or her suicidal style of fighting. It was her Jolly Roger.

The flag looked eerie at best; a permanent frown pasted all over its skeletal face with a slew of stitches running down its left cheek. One of its eyes glowed with an eerie green while the other looked a more servile blue. On the right side of the skulls terrifying frown was what looked like a dab of lipstick, coloring the region above the flag's maw.

Merely looking at the flag inspired fear, for it was an odd amalgam of various intricacies.

This was why she had attained her frightening epithet. The 'Bloody Mary' for though she was silent she was frightening. Though she shone alone on her ship she reeked with the scent of her victims. Though she hunted down only the marines, she was a scourge to the sea.