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It was a milk run, the simplest of missions to ease CP9 back into work once they finished recuperating from the events—not defeat, never within hearing distance of Lucci, whose hearing was sharp enough to pick up someone thinking the word—at Enies Lobby. Five targets, guilty of funding the rebellion, all taking a liner between islands; security was as minimum as the Grand Line would allow, and, as intelligence reported, no one with devil fruit abilities was anywhere near the liner. Kaku almost felt insulted; command may have considered it a gift, but it would never take three members of CP9 to take out five middle-age merchants with more fluff around their middles than brains in their heads.
It took less than an hour to recheck security, find their staterooms, search their belongings for any information or items helpful to the government, and find a discrete place to hide the bodies until nightfall, leaving five more days to relax.
At least, that was the idea; Kaku hadn’t felt tenser since before the Water7 mission, pinned down as he was at his table. Granted, it wasn’t anything his tablemate was doing but Kalifa’s cool look and Lucci’s glare from across the room that was setting him on edge.
“Your colleagues seem perturbed by my presence,” Mihawk stated, never looking up from his wine glass. Kaku, deciding ‘pissed off and murderous’ could count as ‘perturbed’, nodded.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, I was under the impression you had your own means of traveling.”
Mihawk considered for a moment, swishing the wine around in the glass. “I find that, on occasion, a change in routine can have beneficial results.” The golden eyes flicked up, the interest in them pinning Kaku against his chair. “More wine?"
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