One Piece; The Great Pirate Era

"Nonsense!" One of the Marines exclaimed, slinging his shoulder over the choreboy, and forcing him into the group. "You did a good job, you'll need the food for what we have in store!"

Eventually they would all arrive at the mess hall. It was a chaotic, yet organized room, full of tables, seats, and hungry Marines. Their dishes and utensils clanged heartily, as they ate their meals. While the kitchen could be seen through the service windows, most of it was obscured from their sight. The only thing noticeable were the dishes placed onto the service counter, where culinary Marines would serve their combat brethren, the steam and aromas filtering through, and the clanging of busy cooking tools.

If escaping the shop proved difficult, with over a hundred Marines inside this eatery, it would simply prove that much more of a challenge. The Marines escorting Hawkins quickly became engrossed by the aromas and food present, rushing to a vacant table.

If Hawkins didn't want to seem suspicious, he would have to follow in their footsteps, finding a free table anywhere, and get some food.

When arriving in the mess hall, Blood froze for a moment at the sheer sight of this many Marines gathered in one place. Jesus, there were a lot of Marines. Remembering to breath, Blood calmly walked towards the service counter. Grabbing a plate, he took a look into the kitchen just to take a peek.

"Hey--" someone said next to him. Blood jumped at the sound, nearly spilling his plate in the process. "--excuse me," the person continued and it was then Blood realized he was hovering over a perfectly good plate of food. Blood moved out of the way and hurried away from the counter.

He took a deep breath before looking for a clear table. Spotting one, he quickly sat down before another group could claim the spot. All the while, he wished he had some alcohol nearby; he really needed it.

Nearby, Flint tightened his messy apron, before rushing through the many tightly packed tables. Marines were as energetic as chaotic, their voices echoing into one large sound. From table to table, and spot to spot, he would grab empty dishes, escorting them to be cleaned.

Often there would be a thin layer of gravy or grease, or if he was lucky, some tiny morsels untouched by the soldiers. Hungrily he licked the plates clean, before tossing them into his cart. With an ear shattering echo, it was quite clear these plates and utensils would be unfit for further duty.

Suddenly he arrived towards Hawkins back and table. "Hey, how's it going?" He asked calmly, and in a rare manner for him. "Can I get you anything?" He asked this stranger, because that was his job after all. Especially because he had a mouthwatering full plate.

As Blood was fiddling with his food, one of the kitchen staff came by. Shock immediately came over him as he looked and found this staff member was none other than Flint.

"How did you get here?" Blood asked lowly though the shock was still present in his voice.

"From the kitchen," Flint replied, Hawkins disguise alluding him completely. "So how's the food? Is it warm? Do you have enough to drink?" He asked concernedly, especially because this was the last straw for his mess hall duties. If he messed this up, he wasn't getting his desert.

Blood frowned at Flint. Then again, he should give the kid some slack since the Marines managed to be fooled by the same thing. Quickly, Blood lifted his hat off his head. He then put it back down.

"Now, will you quit the act?" Blood grumbled lowly.

"Act?" Flint asked, slightly shocked at the suggestion. "What act?" He asked confusedly, "...Well alright, otherwise I won't be getting some desert." He added, as there wasn't really anyway out of this one.

Grabbing several plates on the tables, owned by seated Marines, whom were quite annoyed at their food slipping away from them, Flint immediately tossed their meals one by one into the air. Able to juggle the first few plates he threw up, their contents quickly slung around the room, splattering wherever they went, and then he awaited the dishes to come back down.

Down they did come, but not anywhere near him. Several rained down, battering some Marines and a nearby table, knocking them out immediately. "...Aw man, there goes my pudding!"

Blood slapped his forehead upon hearing Flint. He pushed his hand deeper into his face as Flint continued with his 'act'. This kid...was going to be the death of him. Just when he thought he was going to get out of this alive.

But Blood didn't panic. Instead, he looked annoyed and frustrated just as the other Marines at his table did. Just play dumb, pretend you don't know this guy.

As soon as this act of travesty had ended, with food and plates shattered everywhere, and Marines in agony, Flint had caused quite a commotion. Catching the attention of the eating soldiers and chef's alike, the main cook finally stormed into the hall furiously.

He stared angrily at Flint, "I warned you, this was your last chance!" He barked, just as soon as another officer stormed in, pointing at Hawkins. "You!" He barked, "Do you take me for a fool!? That shelf nearly knocked my workers out!"

With his furious explanation whipped out, he growled. "Both of you, you're swabbing Marine Section 32!" Hearing their task, several Marines nearby laughed at their expense. "That part of the base hasn't been used in years!"

Blood was about ready to lose himself upon seeing and hearing the officer addressing him. However, his fear quickly subsided as he was merely grumbling about the shelf. Still, he shot a glare at Flint, as if it were his fault. But Flint wasn't looking at him and he stopped his glaring upon hearing where they would be sent.

He remained quiet. Perhaps getting sent to an area that hadn't been used in years was a good thing.

Little happened after botched entertainment of Flint, which threw him into cleaning duty on an abandoned section of the Marine base. Following his unfortunate path, Hawkins would be aiding in this filthy chore, as his repair service was not up to the Marine Officer's standards.

Donned with aprons, mops, buckets, and rags, the two found themselves escorted by this very officer, to the abandoned section. It seemed to be an old ship warehouse, a wide open space, with nothing inside. The windows were even blockaded, keeping sunlight from pouring in.

Through the years of disservice, fine amounts of dust and filth accumulated over the floor, the walls, the gates, and blocked windows. They certainly had their work cut out for them here, as the officer laughed at their expense. "I do not envy you two blockheads." He chuckled, leaving them to clean this entire section.

However at this time of the hour, noon to be exact, the Marines were still actively on duty, and so leaving this abandoned warehouse from where they entered would be no easy task, if possible at all.

As Blood started his work, it was clear from the way he mopped the floor that he was angry.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he asked Flint. And then, before Flint could cause another outburst and put them in further danger, he added "It's me Hawkins."

"Hawkins?" Flint asked confusedly, slopping his mop across the dusty floor. "Well why didn't you say so!" He exclaimed, but not overly loud. At least not loud enough for any Marine to take heed of.

Blood frowned. He had about a million possible things he could say to Flint at the moment regarding the situation they were in. But he chose not to.

"Never mind that now," Blood said gruffly, the anger from before still present in his voice. "We need to figure out a way to get out of here. And fast."

Mopping the dirty floor throughout their conversation, and with more work ethics then display by Hawkins, Flint frowned. "Hey, maybe you're going to slack around, but I'm getting my chocolate pudding tonight." He stated, staring out of the warehouse, where many Marines were performing their routine duties, while others still searched for them. "Besides, I haven't seen a boat all day."

Seeing that Flint was working diligently, Blood began to do the same.

"Well, we've got to think of something. Keeping this charade up is like playing with fire. One mistake and we're screwed."

"Oh I got it!" Flint exclaimed excitedly, as a plan hatched. "We're a cook and choreboy right?" He asked rhetorically, to which Hawkins would either nod or reaffirm with a word of some sort. "So, what if we work our way up the branch? Then when they make us captains, we'll sail out of here!"

Blood didn't even bother to nod to Flint's question, he merely listened. Because, he had a pretty good feeling his idea was going to be rather stupid.

And it was.

"That could take years!" Blood exclaimed.

"Well, I don't hear you coming up with any ideas!" Flint exclaimed, tossing his mop into the bucket, and pointing at Hawkins.

Blood stopped momentarily as he thought over some things. However, he then resumed his work.

"It might be best to wait and try to escape when there aren't so many people around." He said so warily as he would have always preferred to leave sooner rather than later. But he couldn't deny the facts that this place was currently heavily fortified. "We could try at night or when everyone is eating again."

Dipping his mop back into the bucket, Flint continued the mundane chore of cleaning the dusty floors. He had hardly gotten far, only several feet around him, and his bucket of water was already brown. Hawkins suggestion sounded alright to him, it meant he could sneak in and get his pudding anyway.

So night time they waited until, cleaning the abandoned ship warehouse entirely. The floors, the walls, the ceiling, the windows, everything was wiped and mopped cleanly. Not a speck of dust was left to be seen. And their dirty aprons, clothes, and faces showed their levels and hours of work.

As the moon finally rose, and the base became blanketed in its darkness, their job was finally complete. "Phew, I'm starved!" Flint exclaimed, tossing his mop into the empty bucket, "Let's get something to eat!" He added, dusting his dirty hands, as he began to exit the building casually.

Blood found the work tiring as he continued throughout the rest of the day. It was difficult, bitter work but he got through it. For the most part, he worked silently as he thought of potential escape plans once they left the warehouse. Not to mention, he wasn't too thrilled with Flint at the moment and found it best to make contact with him as little as possible until he had a drink.

As night finally settled in, Blood was relieved to know that they could now escape. However, Flint seemed to have other ideas.

"Where do you think you're going?" Blood asked. "We're escaping remember?"

"I haven't forgotten!" Flint shouted, but low enough so as to not draw attention, if any was around. "I just want my meal I was entitled. You got yours." He stated, pointing at him accusingly.

"Don't be stupid, you'll put us both at risk if you do that," Blood chastised as he hit his mop on the ground. It was not hard enough to make a loud noise but it got the point across. "If you want to go and get yourself killed over damn pudding, think again."

As Hawkins argued Flint's idea, going so far to bang his cleaning equipment, Flint was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he should had focused more on where Flint was, and less on complaining.

Elsewhere, finally arriving back to the mess hall's back kitchen, Flint was in heaven. With a moan of amazement, the shiny unoccupied kitchen housed the finest pantries of food possible. He wasn't sure where to start looking, and eventually decided to dig into a large cabinet full of an assortment of food.