Chapter 89: Punk Hazard’s Shocking Change!
“Ugh, so bitter!”
The Marine wrinkled his brow, taking small sips of the dark brown liquid from the thermos bottle, muttering complaints about the bitter taste in his mouth, but to warm up his cold body, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and drink down this headache-inducing coffee as usual.
“I really don’t get it. Why does the supply depot give us this godforsaken concentrated coffee, and without even any sugar cubes?”
“Because we’re sentries!”
Beside him, another Marine grimaced, his face full of bitterness as he drank the same coffee.
“The big shots up top apparently worry that the sentries might get sluggish, so they specially supplied this concentrated coffee.”
“Sigh! This stuff really keeps you wide awake with zero drowsiness, but I feel like if I drink it for another year or so, my taste buds will be ruined. Yesterday’s side dish in the cafeteria had bitter melon, which I used to hate the most, but after eating it yesterday, I didn’t feel a thing.”
“Who knows when this life will end.”
This was atop the watchtower.
The over ten-meter-tall watchtower stood abruptly at the edge of the sea-eroded cliff. From here, one could clearly overlook the island’s port and the distant ocean. The on-duty sentries kept vigil here all night, monitoring the far-off ocean, and if they spotted pirates or unidentified ships approaching, they had to signal immediately.
However, after more than a year in this godforsaken place, they hadn’t encountered many alerts.
This wasn’t because the New World pirates weren’t interested in visiting, but because this island named Punk Hazard wasn’t on any regular shipping routes. After leaving Fish-Man Island, none of the three islands pointed to by the log pose included Punk Hazard.
If one was lucky, ocean currents might carry them near Punk Hazard, but that was a low-probability event. Anyway, the Marines stationed here hadn’t encountered such a situation all year round.
Precisely because of this seclusion, plus Punk Hazard not being too far from the Red Line, it was selected by the World Government as a research base. Doctor Vegapunk led a group of researchers on the island conducting top-secret research work.
To protect the safety of the researchers led by Doctor Vegapunk, the Navy even dispatched Headquarters General Borsalino, codenamed Kizaru, to be permanently stationed on Punk Hazard.
Time had entered deep night.
The clouds in the sky were thick, hiding any trace of the moon, with only scattered starlight faintly visible on the horizon. The howling sea wind blew away all warmth, especially for the two pitiful sentries on the tower. At such a high elevation, plus the open observation ports, they were utterly powerless against the sea wind’s assault.
All they could do was pace back and forth in this cramped space, occasionally taking a sip of the lethally bitter hot coffee from the thermos to maintain body heat as much as possible.
Just as they were strenuously walking to generate as much body heat as possible, inadvertently, their gaze swept toward the sprawling, brightly lit research institute on the island······ then their pupils suddenly dilated, and their feet felt like they were filled with lead, unable to lift anymore.
“What’s wrong?”
The other Marine looked at his halted companion in confusion, his gaze instinctively following in the direction his companion was staring.
Then—
“Holy shit!”
“What the hell is that?”
The loose-lipped Marine cried out in shock.
“I don’t know either!”
The dazed Marine beside him responded instinctively.
On the island, shadows moved in the brightly lit research institute as deep purple poison gas surged out from one building like floodgates opened, spreading at an alarming speed in all directions. While the two were stunned, one-third of the research institute was already shrouded in the gas.
“This······ is this······ some experiment?”
The Marine hesitantly asked his companion beside him.
Their job was to monitor enemies from overseas. The superiors had never said what to do if anomalies occurred on the island. Plus, they more or less knew those white-coated folks were doing all sorts of strange experiments on the island, so they weren’t sure if this spreading fog was an accident, an experiment, or an attack.
“I want to know too!”
His companion looked equally conflicted.
Notify the superior? Worry that it’s just an experiment and get chewed out by the boss. Don’t notify? Worry that if it’s a real incident, they’ll be charged with negligence. Fortunately, this conflict quickly vanished.
A beam of light burst through the roof of one of the research institute’s buildings and shot into the sky.
The dazzling glow converged into a human shape mid-air. Because of the great distance, they could only vaguely see it was someone wearing yellow clothes and a Navy cape draped over their shoulders. But even without seeing the figure clearly, just that blinding light revealed the person’s identity.
Navy Headquarters General, codenamed Kizaru, Borsalino.
After flying into the sky and surveying the island’s situation, Borsalino instantly turned into a flash of light and dove back into the research institute below.
The next instant,
The highest-level alarm blared across the entire island.
A major event!
The two Marines on the watchtower exchanged glances, clearly seeing the shock and panic on each other’s faces. The highest-level alarm······ what it meant had been drilled into them repeatedly from the first day they arrived on Punk Hazard.
The highest-level alarm meant Punk Hazard was about to fall or be destroyed. No need to consider holding position—just protect the researchers and evacuate.
“Go! To the port, quick!”
The quicker-reacting Marine snapped back, slapping his companion’s back hard, gripping his firearm tightly, and rushing down the steep stairs. The slower one instinctively followed, both giving their all, sprinting at their fastest speed ever toward the port where the warships were docked.
······
Research institute,
Deep purple poison gas filled the corridors and rooms. The laboratories, usually bustling all night, now had no standing figures—only corpses with hideous, terrifying faces and white foam at their mouths, either slumped over experiment tables, sprawled on the cold floor, or unwillingly collapsed by doors.
This was an extremely potent poison gas that killed the researchers in the laboratories by massive inhalation in a short time.
Because the poison gas came too suddenly, in such massive volume, and spread so widely, many couldn’t escape even if they wanted to. Only those lucky enough to find gas masks barely rushed out of the gas’s reach.
But such people were a minority. Most weren’t so lucky. Corpses littered the corridors—researchers in white coats, Marines gripping weapons.
At the center of the research institute, a man fully gasified and unafraid of the poison gas floated above the corridor. Surveying the bodies everywhere, he let out a “Shurorororo” eerie laugh, searching for something as he shuttled through building after building.
“Where are you? Vegapunk, where are you?”
The eerie whispers and strange chuckles echoed through the research institute, presenting a scene of human hell.
“It’s Caesar!”
“This poison gas is from Caesar’s research.”
Outside the research institute, in an area the poison gas hadn’t yet reached, a man wearing a gas mask looked at the approaching gas and calmly revealed its source. “I already ordered Caesar to stop this boring research earlier, but from the looks of it, he’s still continuing it in secret······”
The man shook his head lightly and said no more.
He knew that mediocre colleague had always been unconvinced of him, but plenty of people were unconvinced, and he’d never cared about these average-talented colleagues. They were disposable anyway—not worth wasting brain cells to remember.
Still, he hadn’t expected Caesar to do something like this. Truly····· utterly boring! Such a pointless revenge tactic only trapped himself with no meaning.
Indeed, big ambitions with little talent—disappointing!
“M. Caesar Clown······ that Logia ability user?”
Borsalino had a strong impression of this particular researcher. After all, among the over a hundred researchers, he was the only Devil Fruit ability user—and a Logia ability user at that—so he naturally paid extra attention.
“Doctor Vegapunk, now’s not the time to assign blame. Please leave here with me first.”
Borsalino glanced at the fast-approaching poison gas and immediately persuaded the gas-masked man—Doctor Vegapunk—to leave the research institute and head to the warships at the port. His mission was to protect Doctor Vegapunk’s safety, for which he could abandon all other tasks.
Like arresting the culprit of this poisoning incident—that was secondary and could wait.
“Before we go, destroy as much as possible here first.”
Vegapunk didn’t move immediately.
“By protocol, if an accident occurs here, all information must be destroyed.” Vegapunk pointed to his exclusive building. “At the very least, my research can’t leak. Trouble you to destroy my laboratory.”
He unceremoniously asked the Navy Admiral beside him to do it.
“Yasakani no Magatama.”
Without a word of nonsense,
Borsalino got right to it, leaping into the sky, crossing his arms over his chest with thumbs and index fingers forming a flower-holding pose. A blindingly bright light sparked in the gap between his fingers, then tens of thousands of radiant light bullets shot down at the vast, sprawling research institute below.
Building after building collapsed under the light bullets. Equipment, research information, experiment products, criminal test subjects······ all smashed to bits along with the corpses. Of course, even Borsalino couldn’t completely raze the entire research institute. He centered on Doctor Vegapunk’s laboratory, destroying as many surrounding buildings as possible.
Seeing the poison gas nearly reaching Vegapunk, Borsalino halted his attack and instantly teleported back to Vegapunk’s side.
“Let’s go!”
Vegapunk turned away without reluctance, vanishing into the night under Borsalino’s protection.
Amid the ruins interwoven with smoke and dust and poison gas,
The gasified man arduously floated out from between stone crevices, expending great effort to restore his body shape. He blankly stared at the gas-shrouded ruins, realizing Vegapunk hadn’t been affected by the poison gas—otherwise, this Navy Admiral wouldn’t have just destroyed most of the research institute and left.
“Damn it!”
The man—M. Caesar Clown—frustratedly clutched his head, his heart filled with extreme anxiety.
“Damn it! How did it turn out like this······ What do I do now?”
He was terrified to the extreme.
Fearing Borsalino would appear the next second and finish him off.
Releasing the poison gas weapon he’d painstakingly researched wasn’t some premeditated plan. In more professional terms, Caesar’s actions tonight were a crime of passion. His research had made no breakthroughs for so long, leaving him utterly depressed and stifled.
Then, while squatting on the toilet, he overheard researchers praising Vegapunk’s achievements, igniting a nameless fire within him. The long-suppressed weed of jealousy began growing wildly in his heart.
Thus,
Driven by anger, jealousy, and other emotions, Caesar released his researched poison gas from the sealed chamber, intending to use it to completely eliminate that enviable bastard Vegapunk.
Now Vegapunk wasn’t dead; instead, he had left the research institute under the Navy Admiral’s protection. With the impulsive passion faded, Caesar, realizing the disaster he’d caused, lost all his earlier bravado and floated alone over the ruins, on the verge of tears.
Wishing he could slap himself.
Why had he acted on impulse like that?
He’d really screwed himself this time. Even if not executed, he’d likely be thrown into Impel Down to rot······ The more he thought, the worse it got. Clutching his head while floating over the ruins, he let out ghostly wails.
Borsalino’s Observation Haki clearly perceived Caesar’s situation, but he couldn’t spare the effort to deal with this trouble now. The priority was escorting Doctor Vegapunk back to Navy Headquarters and reporting the Punk Hazard incident.
As for Caesar······
No rush.
As long as all the warships at the port were sailed away, there’d be no worry of Caesar escaping. Without a warship, even this Logia ability user with flight capability couldn’t fly far from the island—long-distance sustained flight was extremely stamina-consuming.
Caesar, that lab-rat researcher, didn’t have outstanding stamina.
“Buru buru!”
Borsalino stood at the top of the warship’s mast, dialing the Den Den Mushi in his hand.
