The stench of gunpowder mingled with thick blood hung in the air above the pier.
Smoker retracted his jitte, the smoke at its tip slowly dispersing.
The Marine corpse at his feet still twitched, the bullet hole between its brows a ghastly sight.
The Marines around him clenched their rifles so hard their knuckles whitened, their eyes brimming with terror and confusion.
What had just happened defied everything they knew.
A comrade-in-arms bitten once had turned into a bloodthirsty monster in seconds.
"Captain..."
Tashigi's voice trembled, her eyes red-rimmed, the tip of her blade Shigure drooping.
"No chatter."
Smoker clamped two cigars between his teeth, his face so dark it looked ready to drip.
He took a deep drag; the smoke he exhaled instantly shrouded the corpse.
"Freeze up now and you're the next one on the ground."
Though his words were harsh, his towering frame planted itself in front of them all.
"All squads, hold formation fall back to the ship, now!"
Smoker decided on the spot.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
This wasn't some illness; it was a deliberately engineered bioweapon.
And it spread with insane speed.
Worse, no one knew yet if the virus could go airborne.
"Roaaar"
As if to confirm Smoker's suspicions, a shrill howl tore from the container maze.
A second, a third... soon a chorus of roars merged, like the gates of hell flung wide.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The ground quaked.
Countless heavy, chaotic footfalls surged from every direction, growing closer and denser.
The sound made their scalps crawl.
"Run! Don't look back!"
Smoker bellowed, his cape billowing.
The Marines snapped awake, scrambling toward the pier.
"White Snake!"
A thick white geyser of smoke burst forth, sweeping like a giant python.
A dozen leaping zombies were smashed mid-air, hurled into the horde behind.
Smoker's form solidified within the haze, his arms turning into huge smoke fists that sealed the container exit.
"Captain!"
"Get on the damn ship! That's an order!"
Cigars clenched, veins bulged on Smoker's forehead.
The monsters hit with terrifying force; every impact rattled his smoke barrier. And there were too many endless, writhing, the whole pier seemed alive.
Marines tumbled up the gangway.
"Weigh anchor! Now!"
Gunners on deck spun the capstan frantically; the heavy anchor rose in a spray of water, the sails snapping full.
"Cut the hawsers!" the first officer shouted.
Several Marines slashed; the thick ropes parted with a twang. Catching the wind, the warship inched away from the pier.
"Captain! Jump!"
Tashigi leaned over the rail, hand outstretched.
On the pier, Smoker watched the ship pull away, then yanked his smoke back.
With nothing blocking them, the pent-up tide of dead erupted, flooding the pier like a burst dam.
Smoker's lower half turned to propelling smoke; he rocketed skyward, arced, and slammed onto the deck.
"Hard a-port! Get us out!"
He roared the instant he landed.
No need the helmsman had already spun the wheel hard over. The ship heeled, carving a white arc as it surged for the open sea.
Everyone collapsed on deck, gasping, their hearts hammering.
What they'd just seen was a living nightmare.
At the pier's edge, the black swarm overran the planks; the front ranks half-toppled off the ledge.
Yet something odd happened.
They stopped.
As if an invisible wall barred the way.
Thousands of zombies packed the shore, howling at the departing ship.
Marines sat slumped, rifles still hot, fingers too stiff to release them.
They looked back at the burning island.
Black smoke towered, blotting out the noon sun and casting the sea in gloom.
Though the nauseating howls had faded, they still echoed in every mind.
"What... were those things..."
A young Marine hugged his knees, shivering.
No one answered.
"Captain Smoker."
Tashigi approached, cradling Shigure, her voice hoarse and her lenses fogged.
"Casualty count... we lost twelve on the pier. Three more... changed on board they're quarantined."
Smoker flicked his spent cigars away and lit two fresh ones.
Flame flared, smoke curling.
"Log them as killed in action."
His voice was low and steady.
"Yes, sir."
Tashigi bit her lip; tears finally fell.
The warship raced over the swells, its engines roaring but unable to drown the deathly hush on deck.
Iron Fang Island was now a distant speck, only its rising smoke marking the horror.
Outside the quarantine hold below, sweat-soaked Marines kept their rifles trained on the heavy iron door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Fierce impacts shook the door, nails screeching across metal bestial scratching.
"Hrrgh..."
Muffled growls slipped through the gap, setting their teeth on edge.
Ten minutes ago, those things had been joking with them; now they were monsters.
Smoker snatched the Den Den Mushi from the table.
This virus was far beyond anything he'd imagined. Iron Fang was a North Blue hub; if even one infected person slipped out
Burupurupuru... Burupurupuru...
The wait for a connection felt endless.
Marine Headquarters, Marineford, First Half of the Grand Line.
Afternoon sun streamed through tall windows into the Fleet Admiral's office, but it couldn't lift the suffocating gloom.
Files teetered in mountains on the desk; a bell-collared goat placidly chewed a wanted poster.
"Where the hell has Garp run off to now?"
Fleet Admiral Sengoku crammed a handful of rice crackers into his mouth, crunching as if grinding an old comrade's bones.
"Said he's visiting his grandson in the East Blue probably loitering in Foosha Village again."
On the sofa, a silver-haired woman calmly turned the newspaper pages.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, Chief of Staff.
She sipped her tea, her voice level.
"Let him be, as long as he doesn't stir up trouble in the New World. The Four Emperors have been quiet lately; it's the Seven Warlords..."
Sengoku stopped chewing, his brows knitting, a shadow crossing the lenses of his round glasses.
"Doflamingo?"
Tsuru set the paper down, her fingers drumming the armrest.
"Reports from the North Blue are messy. The Donquixote Family's underground network is hoarding funds and moving into arms deals that used to belong to others. That 'Heavenly Yaksha' is getting greedy."
"Hmph, the Seven Warlords system..."
Sengoku snorted, slamming a file onto the desk.
"Balancing the Four Emperors? They're just wolves in legal clothing. As long as I'm alive, they won't run completely wild."
At that moment, the Den Den Mushi on the desk began to ring.
Burupurupuru... Burupurupuru...