One Piece: The Rise of Bellamy

— Bellamy, I've got an idea, Sabo whispered as he came up beside me. His voice was barely audible over the din of the mess hall.

I turned to him with a raised eyebrow.— Oh yeah? Let's hear it.

Sabo had already grabbed a tray with two "hedgehogs" — odd-looking breaded meatballs — and darted deeper into the hall, as if he knew exactly where to go.

— Bellamy, what's Sabo doing? Karina asked, watching him with suspicion.

— You'll see, I smirked, still standing in line and pretending to choose between rice and fish.

Sabo's perspective:

I weaved through the rows of tables crowded with marines until I spotted a group further back — about six of them, all in uniform, big guys with loud laughter and full trays. Perfect target. I moved in, turned sideways, and silently took a seat next to them as if I'd been there all along.

— Slacking off again, Miro? one of them scoffed without even looking up.

— Forget training, Miro waved dismissively. The sergeant will do everything for us anyway.

— With that attitude, you'll be guarding rat-infested gates at best, another one chuckled.

I gave a quiet hum of agreement and nodded. Someone finally noticed me.

— Who are you? Haven't seen you around before, the marine opposite me squinted and set his spoon down.

I looked up and shrugged.— I'm one of the new recruits. Got transferred in last night. They said patrol duty for a week, then assignments.

— Ah, yeah, that happens, he waved it off. Things change daily here, hard to keep up.

— Yeah, they said I'm posted to guard the storage today, I added casually, poking at my porridge again. But the map they gave me is useless. Do you know where the storage is?

— What storage? Miro asked, turning to me with interest.

— The one where they keep temporary cargo. I just don't wanna get lost — first day and all.

— Ohhh, you probably mean the storage under the archive tower, another guy chimed in. That's where they keep all sorts of stuff, you know? You guard from there. Go down the hall from the mess, turn right, then up the stairs and left past the showers. You'll hit the gate with the grille. Show your pass and they'll let you through.

— Thanks, you've helped me out, I nodded, trying to appear relaxed. I thought I'd already screwed up.

— Don't worry, it's tough for all rookies at first. Just steer clear of Nelson, the marine said, lazily poking at his food and exchanging looks with the others.

— Commander Nelson? I asked, feigning uncertainty. Where's his office? Just to make sure I avoid it...

— Oh no, better stay far away from there, another one smirked, leaning on his elbow. His office is upstairs in the west wing, overlooking the docks. You'll see a glass dome and two flags with golden lions — can't miss it. Whole courtyard's visible from there.

— Newbies aren't even allowed near that place, Miro added. Even we, after two years here, only go there when delivering food on orders. Try walking in uninvited — you'll regret it.

— Then I'm definitely staying away, I snorted, hiding a pleased smile. Thanks, guys.

— Yeah. And remember, if someone comes up to you on post and says "inspection check" — it's either a real test or a prank. Best act like it's legit, one of them winked.

I got up, nodded, and walked toward the exit with my tray, catching Karina out of the corner of my eye already waiting by the door, pretending to fix her belt. Gin hid a grin behind his cap, watching me.

Meanwhile, Bellamy calmly finished his meatballs — the hungry captain seemed utterly unbothered that we were deep inside enemy territory.

Point of View: Bellamy

Sabo returned, slipping past the tables and sliding back into his seat.

— Well? Gin asked, leaning in slightly.

— I found out everything we need, Sabo replied shortly, scanning the room quickly. Now we need to get out of here. Fast. Lead the way.

He straightened up and without wasting time, led us down the remembered path, murmuring quietly:

— Down the hall from the mess, turn right, then up the stairs, left past the showers. There'll be a gate with a grille. We show the pass — we're in.

We followed, trying to blend into the background noise and avoid attention.

Voices echoed down the corridor, someone was laughing — a couple of marines emerged from the showers in shirtsleeves, lazily strapping on holsters. We nodded as we passed like we belonged there.

— There's the grille, Karina pointed out. And sure enough — up ahead loomed a heavy metal gate of interlaced bars. A bored-looking guard stood nearby, chewing a matchstick.

— IDs, he muttered lazily, not even raising his head.

Sabo pulled a pass from his inner pocket — one we'd taken from the knocked-out patrolmen in the alley. The sergeant glanced at it, swiped it through the reader on the wall.

The panel blinked green, but his eyes stayed cold and suspicious. He cross-checked the data with his sheet, never looking away.

— You're not on duty today, he said sternly. Why are you here?

I tried to keep calm.— Pretty sure we are, I answered, doing my best to sound confident. Is someone already guarding the storage?

He stared hard, like trying to read my mind.— Who even are you to ask that? he said with irritation.

I quickly glanced behind — the corridor was empty. No time to stall.

Guess peaceful didn't work, I thought, clenching my fist.

In the next moment, the sergeant collapsed to the floor, struck by Sabo's blow.

— That's for the suspicious interrogation, Sabo said calmly, watching him groan.

— Tie him up, Karina, I said, eyes fixed on the massive storage gate, examining every detail.

Karina jumped forward and quickly bound his hands behind his back with practiced ease.

— Okay, we need to move fast, before anyone notices, I warned, glancing around — and at the bound sergeant slumped behind the desk.

I held up his ID to the scanner, the light blinked green, and the heavy doors creaked open, granting us entry.

It was cool inside, with a faint smell of oil and stored goods. The corridor was dimly lit, rusted pipes lined the walls, and iron stairs led upward.

— Stay close, I whispered. There might be patrols.

— It's pretty big... Gin murmured, looking around. His gaze swept across rows of neatly stored weapons — rifles, muskets, polished swords. There are even boats. This clearly isn't for just one patrol.

— But where's the intel we need? I stepped forward, running a hand along the stacked crates. Looks like a regular depot. Ammo, sabers, uniforms… no documents.

I frowned. A regular military warehouse. Even if we check every box, we won't find what we need. Just gear and supplies…

— Yeah, Karina nodded, crouching by a container. I've seen bases like this. Documents are usually kept separate. He's probably storing them in his office. Or the archive room near HQ.

— Makes sense, Sabo replied, flipping through wall-posted lists that looked more like shift schedules.

Gin kept looking around, hoping to spot something useful among the crates and cannonballs.

— Then… I looked at the others. We need to get into Nelson's office. ASAP. Before they realize we're gone — or before he returns.

— And as quietly as possible, Sabo added, tucking a pipe back under his coat.

— Hey Gin, what's that in your hand? I asked, squinting at a blade glinting under the light.

Gin turned, holding a curved saber. The blade was polished to perfection, and the hilt bore a carved symbol styled like something from a bygone era.

— This isn't just a sword, he said, spinning the blade lightly in his hand. The metal hummed through the air.

I stepped closer for a better look.

— Yeah... this thing... it belongs here? The grip's leather-wrapped… and that mark? That's custom work.

— Someone definitely stashed it for themselves, Gin smirked. But fate had other plans.

— Time to move, Sabo cut in, checking the shift schedule nailed to the wall. We've got twenty minutes until the next patrol. If they find us here — no more talking.

Gin fastened the katana to his belt and nodded.

— Ready. This thing will come in handy.

We moved toward the exit, weaving between the shelves, making no sound. I led, Sabo took the rear, scanning everything to avoid leaving a trace.

— By the way, Sabo said with a satisfied grin, Good thing I learned where the commander's office is. West wing, top floor, view of the docks.

— So there's still hope, Karina replied, dragging something behind her.

— Then let's not waste time, I said, approaching the metal door leading back to the corridor.

— Weird, not much security... Gin murmured, eyeing the empty hallway. His voice echoed off the metal walls. Though… maybe it's already night?

— All the better for us, I muttered. Fewer witnesses, fewer problems.

We stopped at a massive iron door, painted in a layer of dark paint, marked with the naval base's emblem. Beside it, a plaque read: "Officers Only. Keycard Required."

I ran my fingers along the seam between the doors, testing for any give.

— Locked. And looks solid. Forcing it will make too much noise. Everyone will come running.

— Leave it to me, Karina said, stepping up with a sly smile. She pulled a few metal hairpins from her jacket and held them between her fingers.

— Seriously? Gin raised an eyebrow. You know how to pick locks too?

— I'm a multi-talented specialist, she smirked, crouching and swiftly getting to work.

We held our breath, listening to the faint clink of metal as her fingers worked skillfully. Only a few seconds passed before a soft click sounded — quiet but promising.

— Done, she said calmly, standing and stretching. Now carefully, one at a time.

I opened the door — heavy, creaking, but thanks to Karina's work, it gave way without resistance.