Island Tequila Wolf

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Commodore Daigin's battlecry spanned the Marine Base as he swung his sword. The arm of the Cloaked one was cleaved clean, falling to the concrete. Commodore Daigin's facial expression had been a mixture of fear and rage, and it now transformed into an expression of rage and a relieved grin. He had managed to strike. However, that facial expression soon changed once again, into one of utmost horror. The cleaved limb suddenly lifted off of the concrete, connected to the shoulder area of the Cloaked one by a strange energy. With a terrified look on his face, Commodore Daigin watched the limb attach itself once again to its owner. Checkmate. It was not only the Cloaked one's speed. It was the shock factor that made it even more impossible for Commodore Daigin to react to the attack. With great might, he was cut down. Blood burst from his body like lava from a volcano, and the base behind him came crashing down in pieces of rubble. The bloodied Commodore Daigin fell to the concrete with a thud, lifeless. The Marine Base had been conquered.

Down at Sea, "Devious Tactician" Lacuba reassured the Demons that they were not enemies, and asked if they could board. He thought himself brilliant for coming up with that request, thinking perhaps these people would take them away from the bridge where they had slaved away for a long time now. However, soon, those expectations shattered. The man named Zalera assured them that the La Spada pirates were not ones to request such a nice thing of. They were a Calamity. Zalera threw a gun toward "Devious Tactician" Lacuba, who caught it, and then pointed toward Soran. With a gruesome grin, Zalera told "Devious Tactician" Lacuba to shoot the child, if they wished to be spared. A look of horror dawned on "Devious Tactician" Lacuba's face, realizing what was happening. They were about to be slaughtered. That was the only thing he could expect of these Demons.

In disbelief of their situation and with fear setting in, "Devious Tactician" Lacuba didn't know what to say. Byron swam over, grabbing the gun out of his hand and throwing it off to the side. The gun sank to the depths, and Byron shouted at the Demons.

FUCK RIGHT OFF, SCUM. WHAT KIND OF A MAN WOULD ASK FOR THE DEATH OF A CHILD?!

Byron roared, glaring at the Demons. A death wish.



Off in the distance, standing at the edge of the bridge, was a figure. Cloaked in darkness, only her blond hair shined at times. Her clothing was black, blending perfectly with the shadows. With lion-esque golden eyes, she was observing the events that were transpiring down in the water.
 
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Become Death: Calamity - #6

The plague spread through the Marine base. After the Commodore fell and the buildings were destroyed, panic finished setting in. It was here where music rolled once more. A concerto began once more. The sounds of wails and screams accompanied the sweet melody, part of the stanza.

The Grim moved as a blurring shadow through the base, leaving the soldiers frozen, in pieces, or without a “soul”. A massacre. A calamity. Only half a dozen were left alive. Left alive only to tell the tale of that shadow that followed the Spada Pirates flag, and the calamity that consumed them.

Soon, the calamity would move on to the rebels.

[Zalera] “As you wish.”

Zalera said nonchalantly, instructing the demons to keep firing. half of the demons began to board the bridge. The bigger ones (lvl30), led the charge. Sour, coming from the other side of the bridge, had ambushed the rebels. The blades attached to her forearms acting in concert with her martial arts, intent on slicing through the groups of fodder rebels.

Surrounding the rebels, cannon-fire brought fire to the rebel base, acting like the Marine forces with their cannons, but this time the rebels had no escape. Through the fires of war, Zaler’s voice echoed.

[Zalera] “Hear all! Those of you who wish to live, turn on your brothers and join us! Your lives will be spared. Shelter we shall give for those who betray their own! Decide for yourselves! Life or death!”

Zalera sought to turn some rebels to their cause, to increase their numbers. Byron had swayed some, but in the face of death, and with so many at risk, would all of them choose to die here for honor? Or would they cling to life? Even a fool felt a chill approaching the battlefield, from the rubble that once was the Marines. Time was running out.

Zalera had stepped off the edge of the Spada ship. He began to float, mysteriously, and landed at the edge of the bridge. He stared down Lacuba and Byron, ready to engage. Spada Pirates did not make note of the newcomer. The mental torture was too much of a distraction.
 
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The destruction and terror continued on all fronts. At the Marine Base, the Cloaked Death terrorized, sucked souls and froze men until there was but a few left. They covered, despite their senior positions - Captain Moore, Captain Trap and Lieutenant Minchey. The Cloaked one turned away, sparing them so that they could tell the tale of what tragedy had transpired in Tequila Wolf. However, Captain Trap had something different in mind. When the Cloaked one turned her back, he lunged silently, unsheathing his sword and stabbing it toward the Cloaked one's head. Perhaps she was able to regenerate an arm, but she would without a doubt perish if stabbed to her head. Those were Captain Trap's thoughts as he grinned mischievously. The other two, Captain Moore and Lieutenant Minchey, saw Captain Trap lunging forward with his sword. Terrified, they freaked out.

W-w-w-w-w-w-what is he doing, that fool!!! WE WERE ABOUT TO LIVE!!!

They screamed on the inside, hugging their faces with the palms of their hands as they look on in horror.

In the meantime, the situation worsened down in the rough and cold waters surrounding the pillars that propped up the perpetually long bridge. Byron's bravery echoed, but it garnered no respect from the Demons. Instead, they thought him foolish. The Demons and their ship started to fire cannonfire into the water. Due to the rebels' close proximity to the ships, most of the cannonfire would miss, though the slaves in the water would definitely have a rough time trying to survive as the Sea became rougher and more violent from the explosive cannonballs. The slaves were silently shoved against one another, against the ships of the Demons, and one of the slaves even got terrifyingly close to a propeller, though he managed to not get sliced up. Up on the bridge, many of the slaves that were still stuck there in large numbers, were assaulted by more Demons, led by one named Sour. Sliced and diced and killer in a variety of other greusome ways, the slaves had no way out. That is, until two explosions rocked the Demons' worlds. One particularly powerful cannonball exploded on the bridge and blew away a number of the Demons, while another particularly powerful cannonball hit one of the Demons' ships, damaging it heavily. Where the two cannonballs came from was anyone's guess, for there was no cannons in sight, and no one that could man them.

But, before the Demons could pay too much mind to the two cannonshots, another attack came. Machinegun fire erupted, raining down onto the Demons' ships. If any of the Demons had the time to inspect it, they would see that the projectiles fired from this mysterious machingun, were at least baseball-sized in nature, and came with enough raw power to blow holes into their ships. Small cannonballs, in a nutshell, but fired with the speed of a machinegun.

This time, due to the continuity of the assault, the Demons would be able to identify the attacker. The figure standing at the edge of the bridge, shrouded in darkness, her blond hair billowing in the winds. The large bullets came from the tips of her fingers, it seemed, though how that was possible was anyone's guess.

It seemed, at least for now, the rebels perhaps had a savior coming to their aid.
 
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Become Death: Calamity - #7

With the last note of the concerto, all but half a dozen were left to live. To tell the tale. La Spada turned to leave. Yet, the rustling of approach came to the ears of all. A fool on a hill, a metaphorical lonely hill, rushed in. Captain Trap lunged at Grim with sword in hand.

The blade pierced the cloaked hood, passing through. It met no resistance. Suddenly, the cloak hung on the blade. The Grim had bent her knees, ducking to avoid the blow. From the back of the cloak, erupted a green light in the shape of a skull. The green light would erupt at point-blank and aim to pass through Captain Trap. A chill would overtake him; the Chill of the Underworld. If successful, he would be frozen on the spot, a large block of ice.

Trap’s blade had been flipped upwards and kept spinning until it came down, the edge coming down on Trap’s head. It would stab on the ice, just inches from stabbing his head through the ice. The implications were ghastly. Trap was still alive inside that ice. The ice melted slowly, and every second the blade, with the aid of gravity, would inch closer to his skull. Trap would literally see his death nearing, with no way to stop it, until the blade pierced his brain.

La Spada has plunged forward and made her way out of the base. With her immense speed, she appeared to be a blur, now on the way to the Rebel camp. For one reason only: she felt the power level of one worthy. Of one whose soul glowed.

[Zalera] “Who did that?!”

Cannonballs stopped the assault. At the bridge, the demons stopped cold, as an explosion sent many, including rebels, flying. At the ship, the demons scurried as they braced when the ship shook. A cannonball had descended upon them. Gunfire came next, and Zalera had to act.

With his pistols in hand, Zalera shot at the incoming bullets. Though smaller, Zalera was able to re-direct them, placing a perfect shot to each at their side, a testament to his skill. When the barrage ended, Zalera gritted his teeth. The Styx was still damaged. Zalera saw a woman in the distance.

[Zalera] “Who are you....?”

The man asked with trepidation. Zalera stood ready. He, along with anyone in the area, would realize the same thing. The air was getting colder. A chill was approaching. Who was this woman?
 
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Captain Trap lunged toward the Cloaked one, whether out of fear or bravery. His sword pierced, but once again, no blood was drawn. A chilling beam of the underworld pierced through the cloak and into Captain Trap, freezing him. He, too, was left alive inside the ice, much like the ones before him, but it wouldn't last long. His sword had been kicked out of his hands just prior, and now came back down, stabbing into the ice. As the ice would melt, the sword would etch deeper and deeper into the ice, and closer and closer toward the eyeball staring at the tip. A gruesome death would follow later.

With the Marine Base decimated, the slave rebels now seemed the only ones left to go after. Seemingly, however, someone had come to their aid. A woman of blond hair stood on the bridge, unleashing a powerful barrage of baseball-sized bullets from the tips of her fingers. The large bullets riddled the Demons' ships, and undoubtedly, some would come close to succumbing to the damage at some point later on. But that was not the Demons' concern for now. Zalera, intent on keeping things going well until his Boss returned, fired, deflecting some of the large bullets so that damage could be kept to a bearable extent.

Staring at the blond woman, he questioned who she was. She stepped closer to the edge of the bridge, and her face came out of the shadows.

She stared down at Zalera and the rest of the Demons with cold eyes. Suddenly, the Demons' ships started to move ever so slightly, just enough for them to realize that something was happening. If they looked at the water, they would see that a whirlpool was starting to form. At the eye of the whirlpool was a Fishman, smiling up at the Demons. The slave rebels started to be sucked in by the whirlpool, though whether they were being killed or saved was anyone's guess.

It was at that point that the blond woman pointed both of her hands down toward Zalera and his ship. Her arms suddenly started to transform mechanically into two large firecannons that merged together. From the firecannon, a huge beam of fire was unleashed down at Zalera and his ship. The blond woman was a Cyborg.



Elsewhere on the bridge, the Cloaked one was moving rapidly, running quickly enough to appear as a blur to most any less trained onlooker. However, suddenly, a flying slash cut off her path, creating a fissure and a line in the ground. As the dust settled, an intense-looking old woman was seen standing behind the line. Her arms were crossed behind her back as she stared at the Cloaked one.

You've had your fun wreaking havoc on this important bridge.


Now, it's time for you to leave. Get out of here... La Spada.



The old woman said, her voice old but her eyes sharp, calling the Cloaked one by a name of the past.
 
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Become Death: The Newcomers - #8

Behind the Calamity the Marine bass fell. Destroyed. In disarray. Only the memory of a cloak following the Spada Pirate’s flag emblazoned into their souls. The woman sped towards the opposite side. However, where the battlefield once was, an airblade blocked the way.

The Grim stopped. An brazen old woman stood in her path. Suddenly, a name that would take even the Grim’s attention was uttered. The Grim took a second to process the informatio. Slowly, for the first time, she took off her head cloak.

The moonlight shed light on the figure’s true face. Long luscious black hair. Piercing eyes. Her lips, eyes, mouth, scar, and several blotches of skin were intact, reddened by the skin of demons. The rest was covered by a makeshift mask, within being bones. It was as if the woman was half-dead; Isis “La Spada”.

[La Spada] “Long has it been since called by tha’ epithet. Memories or old flood tha’ soul. Kuhahahaha!”
[La Spada] “Who are tha’? Those who know tha’ name should be long dead...”

For the first time, the woman was unmasked. La Spada. For the first time she showed herself. For the first time the Empress engaged in conversation instead of destruction. Who was this woman?

A woman of cyborg revealed herself. Who was she? The woman did not answer. Instead, the ship rocked. A whirlpool began. Zalera drew another weapon, a long shotgun-like weapon, readying for battle. The cyborgdid not let Zalera act, for her arms transformed in the shape of a cannon, energy pulsating.

Zalera after quickly. He clamped down on the ship with his right hand, and poiinted the shotgun at the ship’s side with his left. A large blast of air shot from the Shotgun, waves of haki aiding it’s terrible wind. The beam of fire careened past the ship, destroying the edge and left side of the ship.

The ship had moved with the blast of air, riding the whirlpool and getting out of the danger zone, though the blast still grazed and destroyed part of the ship. Zalera shouted commands to control the waves, keeping the ship fr forever lost to the whirlpool, trying to return to the bridge.

Suddenly, a shadow was cast over the cyborg. Sour had become a whirlwind of her one, one bladed. Her forearms blades extending, she spun with the agility only a child possessed. They aimed to cut the cyborg all over, pushing it back.

 
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The powerful and large whirlpool had formed. The slave rebels that were in the water were all sucked up into the whirlpool, disappearing. Minutes later, the slave rebels, all of whom had lost consciousness, awoke on a slimey and slippery, meat-like substance. It was dark, and on the left and right, ran a number of white, stone-like formations. Little did the slave rebels know at this point, they were inside a whale's mouth. The safest place to be.

Back on the surface, the massive blast of fire erupted from the blond woman, ripping through the air and descending onto the Demons' ships. Zalera managed to move his ship out of the way through the use of an air blast, though part of the ship was still set ablaze by the edges of the fire blast. They were alive for now, and their ship was still afloat for now, though the damage would eventually pile up.

However, the true outcome of this day was underway elsewhere, on the bridge. The intense-looking old woman was standing behind the line that she had etched into the bridge, her arms crossed behind her back. On the other side of the line, a few meters away, was the Cloaked one, clearly not allowed to cross the line. The old woman called the Cloaked one by a name of old. La Spada. The Cloaked one, for the first time on this day, took off her coverings. Long black hair. Piercing eyes. A face the old woman knew all too well. La Spada spoke, stating that she had not been called by that name in a long time, and questioning who the old woman was - to know that name of old. The old woman, unmoving, spoke.

I might be old now, but I'm not dead yet.

The old woman said, referring to the fact that La Spada had said ''all who knew that name should be dead by now''.

But it's true I'm not as strong as I used to be.

My daughter on the other hand... she would be able to give you a good fight now.


The old woman said.

Her scars still hurt to this day.

The old woman said, her gaze suddenly sharpening, a blast of Hao-shoku no Haki exploding forth from the old woman. The blast of Hao-shoku no Haki would invoke a flashback within La Spada. Would she remember? The young girl that she had scarred all those years back? And her mother, who blew up an island to save her daughter from the clutches of La Spada? That same mother... now stood in front of her once more, staring her dead in the eyes.

 
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Become Death: The Newcomers - #9

Through the gliding smoke from her cigar the unmasked Empress waited for an answer from the old mysterious woman. The intense gaze from a warrior whose scars told of legend quelled La Spada’s hunger for blood. The old woman spoke, referencing scars left of a young girl; her daughter.

A blast of will made even the Grim’s body feel a slight shiver. A human feeling alien to her body. That feeling.... it had only happen a handful of times. That feeling... awoke memories.

The camera whirled into the Empress’ eyes, flashing back to days of old, where the Revolution stood at her feet. Whence that intense gaze chose her kin above the Revolution. An action La Spada did not foresee. Could not foresee. For Warsong chose crew over kin. The Bloodhound chose another, though at the cost of the very Revolution.

[La Spada] “The child will seek that whom took her light. Hate will consume towards mah’. By err base desire she run. Judgment most cursed will fall upon her.”

La Spada made a bold statement. A statement that the old woman’ daughter will seek her after her “light” is taken, and hate will find her plunges into the darkness, as La Spada was. Hate will consume Love forgotten.

With those words, and with memories flooding in, La Spada too a step forward. A statement. Past the dividing line. Yet, killing intent was not present. Almost as if this was a mere chat. As if a feeling barred from attacking.

La Spada took a few puffs of her cigar and continued walking. The Grim walked past the old woman, body clinging. She raised her right hand, and in that hand, La Spada held a strand of Irra’s hair. Her Signature High-speed technique bore fruit. La Spada inspected the strand of hair, before she spoke once more.

[La Spada] “Humans cannot escape age‘ah’. Even a legendary warrior such as thy’. T’is a pity. Though too troublesome it would be to crush thy’ soul now.”
La Spada caressed the hair between her fingers, noting the age that came with. But like Kizaru and Rayleigh before her, the effort expended on capturing the old warrior was not worth it. The woman in front of her was still a Bloodhound. Though something else stopped the Grim. A tone of respect, however shallow it was.

[La Spada] “When tha’ life begins to drain from yah’, I will come. Wherever yah’ may be, your soul I shall take.”
[La Spada] “Yours is the only soul I would’ah’ come to collect myself... Irra the Bloodhound.”

The only soul La Spada would come to collect herself. The hair to turn to a vivre card, a calling card for Isis to personally transport Irra to Hell. With those words, Isis looked over the horizon.

-

On the rebel side, Zalera maneuvered the ship with well placed air lasts out of the whirlpool. yet their prey was gone, and the ship charred. Zalera loaded up his weapons and braced for back-up, taking a note on the action on the ridge about a half kilometer away.

The cyborg’s hands sizzled. The shadow from before overtook her. Perhaps too worried about Zalera, the cyborg did nothing to dodge Sour’s attack. The girl’s hakied blades slashed the cyborg from behind, all over her body, intent on making her scrap metal. Sour’s strength and the aid of momentum was such that even the heaviest cyborg would be launched forward, over the bridge and into open water.
 
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Irra ''the Bloodhound''. Commander of the Revolutionary Army. Later Leader of the Revolutionary Army. Mother of Lyza. The Most Wanted Woman in the World. The old woman standing in front of La Spada was all of those things. The burst of Hao-shoku no Haki flooded La Spada with memories of a time long past. An onlooker could mistake the intensity that was present, for a fight that was bound to break out. However, Irra and La Spada knew better. Irra knew she had become older, and such a fight would be tasking on her. La Spada knew what Irra was capable of, and was not ready to risk it all to fight this old woman. A fight between the two was not in the cards. Not on this day. Irra had accomplished what she had come here to do - saving the slaves. And La Spada would accomplish what she had come here to do, by the time Irra retreats. The take-over of Tequila Wolf, and the all important bridge that had been built throughout centuries.

La Spada walked past Irra, taking a hair off of her shoulder. Rolling the hair between her boney skeleton fingers, La Spada did not do it for nothing. It was for a Vivre Card. La Spada's plan became clear. She would come visit Irra on her death bed. Irra smiled, speaking.

We will meet again before I kick the bucket. I don't intend to die anytime soon.

Irra said, stating that this was not the last time they would meet. Irra had not given up on ridding the world of La Spada just yet. Today was simply not that day.

And with that, both Irra and La Spada disappeared.



Off of the bridge, where the Demons' ships were, Zalera saw Sour up on the bridge, sneaking up on the blond woman, who was a Cyborg of Irra's younger self. Sour's blades cut into Irraborg. Sparks flew, and electricity suddenly erupted from Irraborg, lashing out. If Sour persisted, she would be paralyzed. Alternatively, she could back away. Electricity crackled from Irraborg's open wounds, showing the Cyborg life under the synthetic skin.
Suddenly, a booming and commanding voice interrupted.

We are retreating now! We got what we came here for!

If Zalera and Sour looked up into the air, they would see the old woman - Irra - rocketing past them and into the distance. Suddenly, powerful air jets erupted from Irraborg's feet, propelling her like a rocket after Irra. The two flew off into the distance. If Zalera and Sour followed them with their eyes, they would see Irra and Irraborg land on the whale in the distance, catching up with the slaves that had been saved. Irra's subordinate, the Fishman, was next to the whale as well, swimming in the water. If La Spada and her cronnies wished to go after the slaves, now was their last chance. The hot-headed Zalera would undoubtedly wish to, but perhaps the age-old and experienced La Spada had other plans.
 
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Become Death: Calamity - #10

The words of Irra the Bloodhound reverrtebrated as La Spada walked towards the rebel camp. The Grim moved her hoodie to cover her face and entered the rebel portion. She walked, with the same killing intent as the Marines. The music swelling to terror. The remaining rebels lay their weapons down, awaiting certain death.

The Grim walked past them nonchalantly. Like ants to a giant, they did not even register. La Spada made her way to the edge of the bridge, gliding towards The Styx, who now awaited her. As ominous as she appeared, La Spada disappeared in the bowels of the ship, her thirst for souls quenched,

The Bloodhound had given La Spada much to ponder, as her past inevitably caught up with her. Darkness aiding her, La Spada intended to spite that past and leave it to wither,

Zalera indeed had to bite his tongue. With no words, the Empress had given an order.

[Zalera] “By force undying, I declare this Spada Pirates territory!”

A flag raised up in the bridge paid homage. Sour, recovering from her battle with Irra-bot, turned to those remaining rebels. Those defeated and without hope. Undying, she spoke with an ultimatum.

[Sour] “Those who wish to live, consider yourself charge of the Spada Pirates, of the Empress and Undying - La Spada.“
[Sour]” Those who do not, forgo your souls.”

A statement that needed no follow-up. Those who would deny coming under the flag of La Spada would have their lives forfeit. Those who chose survival would be trained in darkness. Replenishing those lost at the Spada ship, and placing the foothold in the East Blue.

A strategic location, Tequila Wolf allowed easy movement within the Blues, for as construct for centuries, dozens of islands were connected to them. Passage of weapons and armies came with ease.

Zalera stayed behind in Tequila Wolf, to oversee the transition. Sour joined the ship, as it sailed after repairs were made.

La Spada Pirates had risen once more. Next stop; Malestorm Island.

 
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La Spada, covering her face once again with that cloak that would leave nightmares everywhere it was seen, landed on her ship and disappeared. Her subordinates were left to plant the flag, and make the takeover of Tequila Wolf official. The old woman, Irra, stood on the whale with her arms behind her back. As the whale swam to the horizon, Irra grit her teeth and clenched her fists behind her back.

If only I was younger...

Irra thought, cursing the thought that she could not help everyone, or keep the bridge out of La Spada's clutches. At least not on this day. When she clutched her fists and strained her body, a blood stain suddenly appeared on the white clothing on the left side of her abdomen. It appears she had been injured recently, and was not in good shape on this day.

Her Fishman subordinate, swimming next to the whale, looked up at Irra worryingly.

Irra-san, don't worry, we will fight on another day.

He said, Irra shifting her gaze down to the swimming Fishman, nodding. They disappeared into the horizon. The dangerous encounter that could have thrown the world into Chaos, was over for this day. But bigger wheels were starting to turn.
 
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