Drake, captain of the Marine special unit "Razor," was on duty at Artificial Sky Island X that day.
Being on duty meant that the four Mid-Level Officers rotated each month, ensuring at least one of them was stationed there at all times.
"..."
Sitting in the little bar, Drake sipped a cocktail and watched the "pirates" drinking and playing cards out of the corner of his eye. A strange sense of emptiness stirred inside him.
Some of these pirates were his own subordinates, while others were remnants of Golden Lion's crew or Caesar's men.
As for his other three "colleagues" and their companions, they were currently away on missions.
"Seventeen cards! You think you can beat me in one go?! If you finish me off with seventeen cards today, I'll eat this table right here!!!"
Golden Lion's subordinate in the black suit was practically bursting with excitement. Victory was within reach this round.
"...Airplane."
One of Caesar's researchers, dressed in a white lab coat, laid down a combination of cards.
"..."
One minute passed. This was not a freeze-frame.
"..."
It wasn't that the man in the black suit didn't want to lose his temper, but the cyborg guards nearby and the Praying Hands tending the bar would step in to "maintain order."
"...Haaah-"
It wasn't that Drake didn't want to be "professional," but in this environment, constantly keeping himself on edge felt rather stupid.
Ever since joining Road Island, he had found the atmosphere here far too strange.
It wasn't that life was bad. On the contrary, it was too good.
The living conditions were excellent, the organization was loosely structured, there were no daily quotas, and he was largely free to act as he pleased.
There was none of the discipline expected of an underground organization. It was