Puppet on a String

Marine Headquarters, Marineford.

The harbor, rebuilt after the war, was far more spacious than before. An ordinary Marine warship lay at anchor there.

In front of it stood a bustling crowd of neatly dressed recruits.

They all wore standard Marine sailor uniforms, without a single shoulder insignia among them.

At the Recruit Training Camp, whatever rank you held before entering, everyone was treated the same. You started from scratch.

Of course, in Marineford, where officers were everywhere, the modest ranks most recruits had held meant little anyway.

Thud!

Heavy footsteps rang out. A man in black sunglasses approached with his mouth turned down and his hands behind his back, his knotted muscles straining against his uniform.

As he passed, the Marines on duty snapped to attention and saluted him.

"All recruits, attention!"

His gaze swept over their young, solemn faces. "Next comes this camp's final field exercise. This isn't your first time, so I trust you know the rules."

"Unless it's absolutely necessary, I won't intervene. Everything is up to you."

With that, the man strode toward the gangway. The Marines around him remained perfectly still, undistracted.

Zephyr caught sight of them from the corner of his eye and nodded in satisfaction.

This class had no recruits who particularly amazed him, but he admired their hard work and discipline.

Shuzo normally led the field exercises. This time, Zephyr had felt like coming along to assess the group's overall combat ability more closely.

It would serve as a practical examination, too.

Somewhere on an unnamed stretch of sea in the New World.

Aboard the White Hou.

The blood had been scrubbed clean from the deck. Crocodile and Catarina Devon had been locked in a temporary brig.

The other Marines aboard were all attending to their duties.

Except for... Smoker and