The Marine fortress Navarone is a branch base located in the first half of the Grand Line. Since its designation number is G-8, it is also widely known as the G-8 Base.
Among the numerous Marine strongholds, G-8 is second to none in terms of both its massive scale and the number of stationed troops. Consequently, the fortress has long enjoyed the reputation of being an "Impregnable Fortress." It was on a completely different level than the G-17 Base commanded by a certain blonde with a natural perm.
Furthermore, if the G-4 Branch in the East Blue had been even half the size of G-8 back then, it wouldn't have mattered if the Sorcerer could blow the whole thing sky-high; whether he could have escaped in one piece would have been a major question. After all, while the power of the Mirror-Mirror Fruit is formidable, Sherlock was, in the end, fighting alone.
Generally speaking, G-8 was a place with a very high safety rating. Otherwise, the Marine high command wouldn't have felt so secure making it the temporary holding cell for "Sir" Crocodile, the desert crocodile.
The Kitchen of Navarone Fortress.
In front of a long cooking range, a group of chefs dressed in standard Marine culinary uniforms and tall white hats were working hard on the ingredients before them. The rising flames of the stoves illuminated their sweat-beaded faces. Between the splashing seasonings and the flying ladles and woks, the rhythmic sounds of chopping and frying echoed through the air.
The efficiency of this crew was truly astonishing. Before long, accompanied by a mouth-watering aroma that set appetites whetting, plate after plate of delicious food was served, providing the famished Marine soldiers with their essential daily energy. It wasn't until the final batch of soldiers finished their meal that these chefs, who had been busy for most of the day, finally had a moment to catch their breath.
"Phew... finally, we can rest for a bit."
Chef A took off his toque, wiped the sweat from his brow, and let out a long sigh of relief. "Seriously, with the number of Marines stationed at Navarone increasing, our daily workload has shot up quite a bit."
Another chef, Chef B, shook his head helplessly. "It can't be helped. After all, we've got a real big shot locked up in the fortress prison recently. To be safe, they naturally had to beef up Navarone's security forces."
"But if that's the case, why not just hurry up and send Crocodile to Impel Down?" Chef C muttered in confusion. "Wouldn't it be even more secure there?"
At those words, the surrounding chefs chimed in agreement. It was clear that they all found the Marines' unusual approach difficult to understand.
"Sigh—see, that's where you're clueless. You youngsters really are..." At that moment, a bearded chef who looked to be the eldest began wiping his kitchen knife as he whispered to his juniors:
"Do you know where the Marines who recently reinforced the base were sent from?"
The chefs shook their heads in unison. After a moment of recollection, Chef A spoke softly: "I'm not sure which specific branch they're from, but I noticed those strangely dressed Marines have the word 'SCAVENGER' printed on them. I'm guessing they're from Marine Headquarters."
"You're quite observant. That's right; those Marines were dispatched from Headquarters."
The bearded chef first gave Chef A an approving glance, then continued in a low voice: "And that Scavenger squad is the direct unit of Rear Admiral Falcone Fred, also known as 'Black Crow.' They are a special operations team specifically used to clean up the residual problems caused by his Devil Fruit abilities!"
"Eh???"
Upon hearing the name "Black Crow," the chefs immediately erupted into a clamor, like a bowl of cold water being poured into a vat of boiling oil.
"That 'Black Crow' who's been making such a name for himself at Headquarters actually came to Navarone? Why wasn't there even a whisper of this before?"
"I heard someone say that he's expected to break Vice Admiral Hisoka's record and become the youngest Headquarters Vice Admiral in Marine history!"
"Psh, how can a 'Princeling' like him compare to the famous 'Golden Ashura'?"
The bearded chef curled his lip in disdain. "Though Vice Admiral Hisoka was promoted by Admiral Akainu, he's from a commoner background and relied mainly on his own strength. You have to realize his talent in swordsmanship was recognized by the world's greatest swordsman, Hawkeye Mihawk, back in the day! It's just a pity he hasn't been very active for some reason these past few years..."
"But that 'Black Crow,' tsk tsk. He just relies on his powerful father who holds a high-ranking office in the World Government. Oh, and his Devil Fruit ability, of course."
Although most of the famous high-ranking officers in the Marines currently come from commoner backgrounds, "Princelings" like Falcone Fred are not few in number. Under the shade of their ancestors' influence, these silver-spoon-fed elites find everything goes smoothly for them, which naturally earns them the jealousy and contempt of commoner-born Marines.
The Marines have never been a monolithic entity. If it weren't for the constant internal factional struggles and the endless piles of administrative mess, would pirates today really be this rampant?
Clearly, this bearded chef was also someone who couldn't stand the "Princelings." He looked up, glanced left and right, then leaned down and lowered his voice further:
"I'll let you in on a little insider secret, but don't you dare tell anyone else..."
"Mm-hmm!"
The chefs nodded in unison, adopting an attitude of "all ears." As for whether they would tell anyone else after hearing it... only the heavens knew.
"You all know that after the Alabasta Incident, Rear Admiral Hina, the White Hunter Smoker, and several other Marine officers received quite a few rewards."
A light flickered in the bearded chef's eyes. "And our Vice Admiral Jonathan, as long as he ensures Crocodile is kept securely in Navarone these few days, will also have a major achievement to his name. After all, Headquarters takes Crocodile, a former Seven Warlord, very seriously."
"But ever since this 'Black Crow' arrived at Navarone, Crocodile—who should have been sent to Impel Down long ago—has been temporarily detained here with us. There's definitely something fishy going on..."
Just as the bearded chef reached the critical point of his story—
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of metal hitting foreheads was painful just to hear.
The chefs, having suffered a sudden assault to the head, turned around indignantly. However, when they saw the graceful figure standing there with hands on her slender waist and a ladle in her hand, they all wilted like mice seeing a cat.
"Chief Jessica..."
Against this beautiful blonde head chef and wife of the G-8 Base Commander, these cooks truly didn't have the slightest bit of temper.
"Break time isn't for you to sit around gossiping about rumors," Jessica said calmly, her phoenix eyes sweeping over the chefs in turn. "If you have the time for this, why don't you properly prepare for the cooking competition in a few days? Do you want to be made a laughingstock by those chefs from Marine Headquarters?"
"No, no, no... how could we?"
"Rest assured, Chief Jessica! How could we, the chefs of Navarone, lose to those Headquarters cooks who only know how to waste the budget?"
Upon hearing this, the chefs immediately patted their chests and guaranteed that they would not let the prestige of the G-8 Base cafeteria fall.
The bearded chef, however, still wore a conflicted expression. He hesitated for a moment, then, as if having made a decision, opened his mouth to speak.
"A chef's task and mission is simply to fill the stomachs of the diners."
Jessica, however, beat him to the punch. She gave the bearded chef a deep look and said emphatically, "As for other matters, they aren't for us to worry about."
With that, the beautiful head chef picked up a bento box and walked out of the kitchen.
"..."
The chefs looked at one another, then let out a collective sigh.
(True, there's no point in talking about these things. We should just stick to cooking...)
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