(First third takes part in the Ninth District, rest takes place in the Nil District)

Jack had been given his most recent orders, nothing more than an errand mission to go check on some of the Revolutions holdings and partners in Baltigo. He was annoyed to say the least, but he was glad at least the mission was based in Baltigo. He had never seen the island and as he wandered through the market streets of the Ninth District to their assigned meeting location, he couldn't help but think of Baltigo as a shadier, seedier version of the streets of Alabasta he grew up on. Hecklers in barely functional stands shouted out to those on the streets, half begging them to buy their wares. Beggars wandered with jingling cups, thrusting them in the face of anyone unfortunate enough to get too close. Jack recognized the tell tale signs of pickpockets, standing in the shadows of alley ways, predatory eyes scanning the crowds for their next mark. It was honestly wonderful.

As the large man walked, people seemed to unconsciously step out of his way, like a parting of the sea really. He scratched at his chest piece absentmindedly before fishing into his cloak for one of the several hidden pockets he had had sewn into it. He popped the top off of his trusty tin flask and took a large swallow of burning liquid. He could feel it make its way down his throat and into his belly, warming him from the inside out. With a satisfied sigh he returned the flask to its rightful hiding place and turned the corner to the entrance of the abandoned warehouse he was told to meet the rest of the cell in. Inside it was dusty and dank, clearly it hadn't been used in some odd years, but there were remnants of recent lodgers towards the far corners. For now it was empty, but Jack had no doubt at night it would be teaming with the homeless and various vagabonds who needed a roof over their head for the night. He searched the dimly lit area, the only light coming in from shattered windows and holes in the roof, but found he was the first of his cell to arrive. With a sigh he sat on the ground cross legged, his arms folded in front of him and waited patiently with his eyes closed at the front of the warehouse.

Jack had heard the man enter before he even spoke and opened a single eye to look his comrade up and down, sizing him up. Music blared from the man's headphones, but Jack didn't mind it. He rose silently and simply stared at the shorter Revolutionary for a long moment before extending a hand, You can call me Red. Jack said, a pseudo code-name he had adopted while working within the Revolution. Very few knew his real name, not that he really had anything to hide, but it was just easier that way and not uncommon amongst Revolutionary forces. Whether Marshall took Jack's gargantuan hand or not wouldn't matter as he'd take his flask out of his cloak pocket once more and take yet another swig before extending it to Marshall, I'm not going to drink by myself amigo. Jack said with a grin. Unfortunately at that moment, the third member of their cell would also arrive, a tall, slim woman with blonde shoulder length hair and a piercing blue gaze.

Jack looked at the woman and back down at the flask in his hand before quickly making it disappear within the inside of his cloak. Oy you must be Captain...Alana was it? The note mentioned you were going to take the lead on this one. Jack said, mispronouncing the woman's name as Al-ah-na. The woman stared at the two men for a moment before speaking, Alana, Mr. Red. She corrected him, pronouncing it correctly as Al-ay-na. Yes, I will be the Captain of this cell. This is a routine procedure of simply checking in on the various Underworld Brokers who call Baltigo home and whom the Revolution has made peace with. In return for their information, we guard their interests from the World Government wherever possible. Of course we won't be meeting with the Brokers themselves, but simply associates of their's. Mind you they will most likely have armed guards at the various meetings, keep your head, we don't need a blood bath. She looked at Marshall and then back to Jack, If there are no questions, we should get started sooner rather than later. It's going to be a long day. Captain Alana said, waiting a moment in case they had any questions. If not she'd turn and walk out of the warehouse in the direction of the first meeting, expecting them to follow.

With nothing further to discuss, the trio began making their way through the streets of the Ninth District. Alana took lead, with Marshall behind her, his headphones covering his ears and Jack taking up the rear. He kept his head on a swivel, mostly out of habit, but also to take in all of his surroundings and reminisce. It was nice to be back in a place that so much so reminded him of where he grew up and he was going to relish every second of it. After about three blocks the trio made their way into a large, lavish building. Jack immediately noticed the marble floors and center piece fountain in the lobby area of the room. Behind an obsidian desk stood a man in a crimson blazer and black tie, professional and tidy in appearance. Alana immediately made her way over to him and Jack followed, though stood back far enough to allow the two to speak without his imposing shadow over them.

The man at the front desk spoke pleasantly and quietly to Alana, but when she said the three of them were together to speak with a Mr. Dupree, the man leaned to one side to peer behind the female Revolutionary. He looked Marshall up and down, having disregarded him as a street punk looking for trouble and then took in the full breadth of Jack, who simply stared back at him with a slight nod of his head before turning his attention to the front door. The doorman went back to Alana, Yes yes, of course. I was told you were expected today, just not who to expect exactly. Please, right this way you'll find a conference room, conference room B that is on your right. Mr. Dupree should already be waiting there for you with refreshments. Alana thanked the man and lead the other two to the conference room.

Upon arrival, the glass doors were opened from the inside by two large (though small compared to Jack) armed guards in similar outfits to the doorman's. Inside was a large wooden table with numerous chairs, two more guards standing behind a man sitting in one of the chairs who slowly stood to welcome the guests. He was dressed in a white suit, complimenting the few strands of white hair that still grew from his caramel colored head. In front of him were numerous documents including a massive book opened to a date three months prior. Welcome, welcome. My name is Desmond Dupree, I am the accountant for this fine establishment. I trust you'll find everything in order here in front of you. Should you have any questions please just let me know.

Jack watched as Alana approached the table and began reading through the documents and flipping the pages of the ledger, but quickly grew bored and instead studied the guards in the room with them. He knew there would be armed guards where they were going, after all these were crime lords they were dealing with and a stolen ledger could be invaluable in the right hands. Knowing where money and goods were going when and to whom is information enough to build or cripple an empire and these Kingpins weren't going to take any chances. Still, that didn't mean Jack was going to take any either. He folded his arms in front of his chest and kept a steady eye on the guards before noticing a refreshments table off to the side of the room. Ooooh, muffins. He said, making his way to the blueberry stack.

OOC: Feel free to take control of Alana or Dupree or whoever in this. Have fun with it. The first part is going to be a little boring/less action. Just focus on developing the voice of your character, then we'll get into the good stuff shortly.

OOC: It's been a week so I'm continuing without Marshall. He may jump back in if he so chooses.

Approaching the platter he seized an armful, about five in total and popped an entire muffin in his mouth. It was quite delicious, albeit a bit cold for his tastes. Chewing it around for a moment he reached into his mouth and pulled out a saliva saturated wrapping he had forgotten to take off of the muffin in his haste. With two fingers he inspected it before looking at the two guards beside the refreshments table who were now staring at him. He dropped the muffin wrapper on the floor and wiped his hand on his pants before offering a muffin to the guard on his right, Want one? But the man said nothing to Jack, who in turn simply shrugged and popped it in his mouth, this time sure to take the wrapper off first, So be it, more for me then.

He turned his attention to Alana as she flipped through the pages, studying the book's contents for who bought what and when. Marshall, Jack noticed, was very quiet through the whole encounter, simply listening to his music and staring off into the distance. Jack made his way over to Alana, his impressive height giving him an easy vantage point over her head without actually disturbing her. Jack looked down at the numbers and dates which lined the book and frowned. It seemed relatively jumbled to him, then again he wasn't much of a numbers man, but even so he could pick up on something, a faint pattern perhaps. He placed a hand on the shoulder of Alana gently as she flipped to a new page and said, Hold on a moment. Something wasn't right here, he just couldn't quite see what yet.

Something the matter, sir? Mr. Dupree asked from behind the table, sitting pleasantly with his hands folded in front of them, a skeptical look on his face. Alana as well turned her head to the large man, Yes Red, is there something the matter? She didn't bother hiding the irritation in her voice. For Alana this was a routine mission she had been stuck with because her name had come up on the short list. She wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible and get home, ridding herself of these two nuisances she had been assigned to. Jack frowned as he stepped forward, absentmindedly moving Alana out of the way, lest she be shoved by his massive frame. He scratched his beard as he flipped a few of the pages backwards, then forwards once again to the page he had just been on. Here, He said, pointing to a name in the ledger, Two weeks ago you sold an arsenal of weapons, enough to outfit a small militia to a buyer you mark as "Mr. Q". Flipping back we see that once a month, every month for the last year and a half it seems, this same "Mr. Q" buys two swords and two firearms. Sometimes pistols, sometimes rifles but always the same category. Why the sudden increase?

Mr. Dupree smiled but then sighed, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind a client's purchases and truthfully I usually don't know them myself, nor does anyone else in the syndication. My employer and this syndicate, as I'm sure you'll find with the other Kingpin's businesses, are focused solely on creation and distribution. The rhyme or the reason simply isn't important to us so long as we are producing goods others want to purchase and are willing to pay quite handsomely for. Jack stared at Mr. Dupree, frustrated that the man's explanation had been nearly perfect to the letter. It made sense that the seller wouldn't try to discern the reasoning behind a buyer's purchase. The Underworld was all about secrecy, so a nosey seller would be out of business in no time. Still, something didn't seem right and it gave Jack an uneasy feeling.

Barring that, it is not part of the agreement between the Revolution and the Kingpins that they need to disclose a buyer's reasons for his or her purchasing habits. We simply ask for reliable information on who they're selling to, or have you already forgotten that? Alana said, stepping in front of Jack and taking out a Den Den Mushi. She flipped through the rest of the book, taking pictures of the pages when necessary before closing the ledger. Thank you for your time Mr. Dupree. An associate of mine will be here in two month's time. I wish you and yours the best. Dupree returned the formality while collecting the ledger and various papers off of the table. The two guards at the door to the conference room opened them without a word as Alana turned to leave. Jack took one last look at the ledger in the man's hands before frowning and following his Captain out, Marshall silently brought up the rear, his music still blaring.

Accompanied by Marshall and Jack, Alana lead the trio to the other various meetings throughout the day. Jack behaved himself, careful not to interrupt or disrupt Alana as he knew he was already on thin ice with her. It wasn't difficult to keep to himself as he instead focused on the nagging feeling he had in the back of his mind. He didn't know much about ledgers or even how a business was run, but even when he scanned over the other ledgers or notes the employees produced, nothing stood out to him the way that Mr. Q had. Perhaps it was just a fluke or this Mr. Q was making a move or had even come into some money, but in Jack's mind someone doesn't go from buying a bottle of mustard every month to suddenly buying fifty bottles of mustard. It just didn't make sense. Still, even as Jack silently brood over this thought, he made sure to pay attention to the books and papers in the other meetings, even if he felt he wasn't allowed to say anything without catching the ire of Alana.

He may not have a mind for business or numbers, but if he actually applied himself he was a fast learner. Occasionally he'd ask the odd question to whoever the Kingpin's representative was, simply making small talk and taking an interest in the business while Alana snapped pictures of the ledgers. Normally, except for one rude woman who simply gazed at him with an icy stare, the representatives or accountants were happy to oblige. After all, everyone liked talking about themselves and what their work is so it was only natural. Alana didn't seem to mind and Marshall continued to remain silent throughout all of the meetings. By the end of the day, the three emerged from the basement meeting of their last rendezvous as the sun began to set. Jack turned towards it, looking down the street with a single hand providing shade over his eyes. He pulled the flask from his cloak and took a long swig, admiring the sunset as people continued to busy themselves in the street. It seemed this section of Baltigo never really stopped moving. He was tired, mentally exhausted, but he had also learned so much in such a short amount of time and was eager to look into this Underworld business a bit more.

The three headed back towards the inn the Revolution had booked for them for the night, eager to rest and, while Jack couldn't speak for the rest of them, he was fairly confident even the youngster could do for a bit of a nightcap. Looking at Alana's rigid posture he wondered if there was any amount of alcohol that would be able to get the high strung Alana to relax and unravel a bit. Jack was mildly sure it'd take enough to kill a small horse before she dropped the hoity toity attitude she had about her. As they walked, Jack noticed an odd area below them. The three were crossing a bridge in the Ninth District and beneath that bridge lay what Jack could only describe as a complete slum. They were on the outskirts of the Ninth District at this point, nearly to the waterfront and it seemed that this slum was a new area, clearly separate from the rest.

The buildings in this area were informal housing at best. Shacks made of scrap metal and old, discarded timber made up the majority of the few hovels that stood freely of themselves. Many had been constructed right on top of one another, the only doors or windows simply cut into the metal or wood with thin, dirty cloths draped over the entrance ways. People wandered the streets picking through the trash that lay strewn about. Some had large burlap sacks draped across their shoulders, stuffed with garbage and discarded metal scraps. The people themselves, the few Jack could see, appeared dirty and scrawny, akin to stray dogs more than people. This was clearly an entirely different world, existing side by side with the luxuries of the Ninth District but never should the two meet. As if to enforce this fact, Jack could see farther down the bridge where it joined up with the road once more, two well-armed guards at the top of a long set of metal stairs. They looked down upon the shantytown beneath them, scanning for anyone coming up but not the least concerned with the people milling about behind them in the wealthier district. A check point to keep the disadvantaged away from the wealthy and privileged.

You coming Red? I'm not waiting for you any longer than I'm contractually obligated to. Alana's voice cut through Jack's thoughts and stirred him back to reality. He looked over to her and Marshall where they stood, already off the bridge and back on the main road, staring back at him. She had a hand placed on her hip and a bored look on her face while Marshall simply stared through him, his headphones still bumping to the beat of his music. What is this place? Another section of the Ninth District? Jack asked, returning his attention to the scavenging residents beneath him. Alana cast a bored gaze across the valley of trash and discarded items, Ah, that is the Nil District, Nil meaning zero because nothing down there is worth any value. They say once you find yourself in the Nil district, you die there. There's no coming up out of that hell hole, the city has seen to that even if you were able to scrounge together enough coin to buy yourself a place up here. Those people are less thans, less than the rest of the citizens of Baltigo and less than us. They provide no value to the Revolution, nor to the society they inhabit. Now then-

Go on without me, I want to have a look. Jack said as he walked past them and turned to his right, headed for the guards at the staircase. Alana opened her mouth, paused for a moment but then shook her head, Fine then, have it your way. You don't look like much Red but down there you'll stick out like a sore thumb the way you're dressed. Watch yourself, they'll strip you down before you're even done bleeding out at their feet. The ship leaves tomorrow at dawn, with or without you. Alana said as she turned and headed back towards the inn they were walking towards initially. Marshall took a last look at Jack before turning and following his Captain without another word.

Jack ignored them as he made his way to the two guards who turned as he approached. Good evening gentlemen, I'd like passage into the Nil District. Jack said politely, waiting patiently for the two guards to step aside. The two guards stared up at the large man, seemingly confused as they looked from him to one another. Sir, though no business of ours, what do you want in the Nil District? Especially at this hour? Guard 1 asked before his partner piped up, What Jimmy here means is, what in the hell you think you're doing going into that dump at night? Looking to get yerself skinned is what it seems like. Guard 2 eyed Jack with a stubborn look on his face, like a cop who had seen too many idiots do too many idiotic things in his lifetime and wasn't in the mood to watch another one walk that road tonight. You might think yer tough and all that, big fella that's for damn sure but those rats down there will eat you alive boy. They'll pick you clean for anything they can sell or trade.

Guard 1 glanced nervously at Jack before returning his gaze to the Nil District below him. Occasionally he would glance back at Jack, nervous his partner's words had done something to antagonize the large man. Jack instead simply chuckled, Don't worry about me old man, if I need help I don't expect you or anyone else to jump to my rescue. I'm just doing a bit of...what do the book nerds call it? Research. Just doing a bit of research in the area, that's all. Guard 2 snorted but stepped aside to allow Jack to pass onto the stairs, Research, huh? Looking to buy a summer home down there or somethin?

Jack stepped past the two guards and began making his way down the staircase carefully. Overhead lights from the bridge illuminated the old metal frame well enough for both Jack and the guards to see anyone on the stairs, but time and exposure had clearly taken its tole on the structure. Rust was present throughout as Jack descended, entire sections of the metal netting eaten away by decay which Jack was careful to overstep. The structure often groaned and quaked beneath his mass, but Jack continued all the same. Half way down the elder guard called out to him one last time, You're on your own now boy. Jack didn't even look back, instead tossing a friendly wave behind his back and yelling out, It's not the first time, won't be the last old man.

For the briefest of moments Jack thought he could hear a muttered, Damned fool. but for all he knew it could have just been the wind.

Once Jack hit the streets of the Nil District, the poverty and danger of the place quickly became apparent. For one thing the only electricity fed lighting came from the top of the bridge illuminating the stairs and the landing below for anyone attempting to climb them. Once Jack stepped out of that light he was welcomed by a soft darkness, the only light being various fires scattered throughout the settlement. Some were contained to rusted out garbage cans or barrels while others were simply left open, fingers of flame flickering higher and higher towards dried curtains and old lumber. However, the residents either didn't notice or simply didn't care. Even if everything they had down here burned to ash, they'd start over not very different than before.

As Jack walked through the decrepit district, he could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on him. Some obvious, a couple huddled around a bin fire openly staring him down as he passed along. Others he couldn't actually see but instead feel, lurking in the shadows either too scared to make themselves known or simply waiting for the right time. Jack kept his gaze on a swivel, but stood proud and tall as he walked. It dawned on him that he wasn't actually sure what he was looking for here. After all everyone else had given up on this place, even the Revolution. From what he could tell it was with good reason. There was no apparent abundance of natural resources down here, no real vendors or traders. Instead it seemed people simply came here - whether by choice or circumstance - to die.

Hey Mister! A voice called from the darkness and Jack stopped, searching for where it had come from. Yeah, you. Mr. Big Tall and Burly. Mr. Oooh look at me, let's take a tour of the poor people. Let's wave money at them like I wave my big, thick, c- The voice stopped for a moment, interrupted by its own thoughts, caterpillar. It concluded. Up here Dingus. The voice said as Jack turned to look at the top of one of the tin shacks to his right.

In the faint glow of one of the trash fires, Jack could just make out the outline of what appeared to be, based on the voice, a young girl. Though, at the age she appeared it could have just as easily been a boy with longer hair. The figure lounged on the edge of the tin roof but quickly dropped down to the ground, rolling forward to break its fall, almost gracefully. The girl came out of the roll on one knee, arms spread with a triumphant, Ta daaah! Jack raised a questioning eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak but the girl continued, People around here call me Screw-loose Sally on account of me having a screw-loose...or a couple anyway. People around here call you fresh meat, easy target, big man on campus...whatever that is. Couple of em are CO-LEGATE dropouts, think they're fancy but they're buzzard food just like the rest of us.

Sally said all this as she skipped around Jack who simply eyed her curiously. This girl's name was fitting, that much was for sure. She looked no older than perhaps twelve and in some ways she reminded him of himself at that age. A clear street urchin, he remembered what it was like and remembered the different faces he wore to get what he needed from strangers.

Ooooh what have we here? A little drinky drink? The girl said suddenly, disrupting Jack from his thoughts. Instinctually his hand went to the pocket of his cloak where he kept his flask only to find it empty. When had she- Hey, that's not yours. Jack said, swiping for his flask as the girl upended it and began chugging. She held a single finger and for some reason, baffling even to him, Jack hesitated for a moment like a small child obeying his mother. This girl was a fraction of his size and was stealing from him openly in front of him. After a moment's hesitation he pushed the girl's arm aside and grabbed the flask only to find it completely empty. Jack sighed while the girl let out a satisfied belch and then giggled.

Pocketing his now empty flask, Jack stared at the girl, Okay so in the last two minutes you drank my booze, probably pocketed some of my cash and now...what? He asked, unsure what this girl wanted from him. Sally dropped to the ground, legs crossed as she stared up at him.
I don't want anything, but no one else was talking to you and no one round here talks to me on account of the ole, she knocked on her head with her knuckles, so I figured, eh, what the hell?

Jack nodded slowly, Uh...huh. He looked her up and down carefully, mismatched shoes, strange reddish-pinkish tips in her dirty (and not in the hair-color sense way) blonde hair. Even her eyes were two different colors, one a deep brown and the other a strange turquoise.

Oye, Sally, what have you dug up for us today little girl?
A voice from behind Jack called out suddenly. Sally leaned to look around Jack and her face went pale before turning into a deep scowl.
Friends of yours? Jack asked before turning in the direction of the man's voice.
Behind him, Sally snorted, Not exactly and they're definitely not friends of yours.



Jack found himself looking at seven individuals garbed in similar rags as Sally but with a bit more logic to them than her mismatched ensemble. A single man stood in the middle, three fanning out on each side of him and was the clear leader of this little hood rat gangster group. He took a drag off a lit cigarette before flicking the butt to the sandy ground beneath his feet, looking as classic, cheesy gangster as possible. His friends behind him palmed weapons ranging from long knives to metal pipes to even one guy with a pair of scissors. Not anything special, just a literal pair of scissors.

Alright, let's make this easy for everyone. Hand over everything you've got, including that fancy looking cloak you've got there. I think it'll go nicely wrapped around my shoulders, don't you? The lead thug said, a moment of silence passing between the two groups before Jack burst out laughing, Oh god, you're kidding right? He asked between wheezes, literally bent over, hands on his knees to support himself from falling down. Standing upright he wiped tears away from his eyes, First of all you'd drown in this thing you little half-pint. Second, you and your cronies with your rusted out toy weapons need to turn around and head home to bed before someone here gets hurt.

The thug scowled but then chuckled himself, grazing a hand through his oil black hair, You know, it's funny you say that. I was just thinking the same thing. he said, pulling back the front of his open jacket to reveal a pistol holstered in his waistband.
What do you use that little BB gun for? Hunting rats for dinner?
Fine, have it your way. Strip him down boys! The thug snapped as three of his goons charged towards Jack and Sally.
Ha, gay. Jack said, placing a hand in front of Sally who had appeared at his side before raising his other hand towards the goons.

He waited until the thugs got within 2m of he and Sally before releasing his power. As if they had run directly into a brick wall, the thugs stopped dead in their tracks, one of their noses gushing blood as if it actually had hit a solid wall, before being thrown 20m back to land at the feet of their leader.
What the f*@#?!
What the f*@#?!
Sally and the lead thug exclaimed simultaneously.

Like I said, go home before someone gets hurt. Jack said simply, lowering his hand and staring directly at the dumbfounded lead thug.

Almighty Push: