It was late at night in Marineford.
Inside the Communications Room, the fax machine gave a monotonous buzz, spitting out sheet after sheet of reports. The Telegraph Operator on night duty, a veteran with over twenty years of service, adjusted his glasses. As his eyes swept over the words on the paper, his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.
In his report, Rear Admiral Raymont used grave language, declaring that the situation in the West Blue had become urgent. Together with the dispatch that followed from the World Government's Cipher Pol department, accusing Aaron Ball of "openly sheltering the Devil Child, opposing government personnel, and seriously threatening the stability of the West Blue," it weighed on his heart like two heavy blocks of ice.
Years of professional instinct told him that submitting these documents directly to the Fleet Admiral now would probably ignite an unnecessary storm at once. After a moment's hesitation, he picked up the internal telephone. Rather than dialing the office at the very top, he connected to the line of Vice Admiral Tsuru's aide-Rear Admiral Gion.
Not long afterward, Gion arrived at the office.
Momousagi Gion wore a Marine coat she had not yet properly fastened. Her long black hair lay somewhat disheveled over her shoulders, and her face held the languor of someone roused from sleep. She yawned, took the report, still warm from the machine, and skimmed it beneath the desk lamp.
When she saw phrases such as "Cipher Pol infiltration failed, agent committed suicide by poison," "Boer called to demand answers," and "Spandine suspected of involvement," a flicker of understanding passed through her bright eyes, then turned into faint exasperation and irritation.
"That's what you get, kid... for being so 'conspicuous' and not 'careful' enough." She murmured to herself, lightly tapping the report with her