Before the Storm

- Poke him.

- You poke him, you're his partner.

- No, you have a double-blades sword-staff thingy, you poke him.

Lucious rests his face one on of his hand on his ebon throne forged from bloodsteel and the twisted blades of his many enemies, his other hand taps onto the metal armrest impatiently, annoyed. On either sides of his throne overseeing main bridge, two figure classed in black armor fashioned into the style much like his bicker, one with short, green hair and the eyes of matching color, the other much smaller, smaller even than Lucious himself, with brown hair and eyes as black at the night. While their difference in sizes was noticeable, they still share the same traits, a long, reptilian tail, a pair of raptorial legs with lethal sharp talons, and razor sharp fangs for teeth, made even more formidable by their jet black armors of wraithsteel. The Conquissiarch slowly removes his head from his bored position, pinching the ridge of his nose from the constant annoyance and boredom that he's been subjected to for the last nine days.

As of protocols, the vanguards, those few dozen ships that have arrived near the planet, are to wait near the moon of that planet, scouting for information for the in coming invasion forces. Until the entirety of the invasion is presence, the only forces that are to be sent to the planet surface will be unman drones, spying on the inhabitants, gathering geological, gravitational and atmospheric information, searching for suitable sites for scouting parties to land and settle bases.

An armada, Lucious is in command of an entire armada. Preparations have been underway for months, contracts and agreements with other fleets other than the Inquisition, estimations and confirmations on how many ships each fleet can bring, pitching their arrival in their system at a handful of days from now. The hours passed in a blur of statistic outlays, charts and holographic projections. The supplies for the entire invasions, rations, weapons, ammunitions and more. Sustainable supplies planning, unsustainable supplies planning, with a pending list of estimated sacrificial casualties of local populations.

Estimate of diseases once the forces met and considerations of a biological hazard. Types of diseases, symptoms, severity, risks of contagion, compatibilities with the microorganisms found presence in the planet's biosphere.

Land troops numbers, weapons numbers, their regiments, their officers, their records, their citations, their shames, their greatest moments of glory and ignominy on a host of distanced worlds. The foot soldiers' figures alone took two days to file through, and this they say is merely the overviews.

War machines, war beasts, and trades agreements between the many fleets and between them and the Empire at large. Officers clashing, arguing over where to land, docking rights, warehouses, orbital stations construction, a single day from the dreaded nine saw no less than a dozen bickering between the commanders and their subordinates. And Lucious endured this for nine days.

Nine.

Days.

- No, poke him.

- You go and poke him.

- No one is poking me. - Lucious finally rumbles into life.

- Well look who just came back to the Land of the Living. - The taller male with green hair smirks.

- I was never gone. - Lucious turns to his friend, eyes narrowed as he growls deeply with distastefulness clearly presence in his voice. - Or were you throwing shades at me, hoping I would be dead so you can claim the position of Lord Inquisitor, Master Zorus?

- Geez, does no one know how to take a joke anymore? - Zorus pouts and looks away.

- Oh c'mon Lucy, - The smaller boy smiles cheekily. - it's kinda hard to tell whether you're alive or dead, especially with that resting bitch face of yours.

- I. Do not. Have. A. RESTING BITCH FACE! - Lucious explodes at the boy, the mascot, finance master, commander of the heavy weapons teams, and his personal retainer…and pain in the ass, Chopper.

- Sure, sure, whatever you say. - Chopper shrugs nonchalantly. - Your Restingbitchfaceness.

The entire bridge almost burst into laughter, but they didn't, most of them bends double, some almost fall to the floor, desperately gripping at whatever they could while keeping their amusement to muffled snickering. The only one dares to laugh out loud is a lanky figure, rolling on the steel floor next to his massive sniper rifle, his face covered by a mask fashioned into the shape of a long nosed demon, a trophy from one of his many hunts.

- Shut up! - The Lord Inquisitor shouts, face red with both anger and embarrassment. - Ulrich! Shut up or I swear I'll shoot you out of a star cannon.

- Totally worth it! - Ulrich the Hunt Master replies in earnest, cackling like a mad man as he does.

- Imbeciles… - Lucious shakes his head and rubs his face to recompose himself. - Chitchats aside, is the invasion armada readied? Are the fleets and all of their problems and contracts solved? Have the drones found a suitable site?

- Aye aye Sir Resting McBitchface. - Chopper's salutation make Lucious' face wrinkle in distastefulness. - All the fleets are accounted for and are ready to deploy their spearheads to designated locations.

- And us? - Zorus asks. - What about Our Strike Force?

- Well to follow tradition of setting our headquarter as near as the enemies' planetary capital as possible, Naemeria and Nicolin have selected a place. - Chopper pulls out a holographic projector from his pouch. - "Sabaody", a cluster of giant mangroves with intertwined root system that can both hide and fortify our base should we build it there.

- Interesting. - Lucious rubs his chin, eyes narrowing at the holographic projections of the giant roots stretching down the ocean floor.

- Bonus point, the place is a main trading port that have goods from all over the world flowing through it daily, so we'll have no difficulty in… - Chopper stops and snickers. - "questioning" for information.

- So it is. - Lucious nods. - And what about Drone S-D-4923? Did you fine anything about its disappearance and the last images it sent back yet?

- Yes. - Chopper's expression darkens. - According to information gathered from other drones, the man that saw and possibly knocked out S-D-4923 have quite a name for himself. Rayleigh the Dark King, I think that's what people call him. We also lost A-B-5442 in a skirmish between a pirate crew and an experimental weapon of some sort sent by the main planetary military force, a Pacifista I think. Noticeably many of said pirate crew displayed some rather peculiar abilities, but the information gathered about them is quite…lacking to say the absolute least.

- That mortal…Rayleigh. - Ulrich sits cross-legged, having recovered from his hysterical laughing, his tail wags excitedly at the prospect of the hunt. - He's no ordinary mortal, he knew he couldn't pierce the drone's shield, so he used the human's energy beam to blast it.

- Yes, that reminds me. - Chopper changes the hologram on the projector. - Apparently this world is infested with some having "Devil Fruit Powers", making them quite formidable, but there are also those that have the power called "Haki" that can negate them.

- Then our priorities are clear. - Lucious declares. - Establish a base, capture some "Devil Fruit Power" users, capture some "Haki" users and see if we can use them to our advantages. Prepare the drop ships, tell the rest of the Strike Force and the other spearheads to ready. We make planet fall at dusk on Sabaody.

- Woo! Road trip!

- SHUT UP!

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