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The boy's blue eyes surveyed the papers in front of him as his mind immersed itself within the many possible solutions and formulas needed to guarantee success. Small beads of sweat trickled down from the side of his face as the near-summer weather made itself known with the humid air. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and he leaned back on his chair with a sigh. His thoughts were quickly thrown out the window as a sudden voice made him jump into action. His eyes turned to the dark shade that succumbed to the night as he quickly turned and maneuvered his hand to his belt where a silver spirit pistol was laid hidden. He stopped abrupt

Camera men, anchors, the press; all of them swarmed the scene that was within their grasp. They wouldn't allow this opportunity to get by them, especially not in these past months. Every meter of that library room was given no mercy as blood was splattered everywhere at all corners. The smell of death and decay was everywhere but oddly enough, no evidence was left as to whom or what had done this. The corpse left behind in the crimson mess was left in a near unidentifiable manner. The team ordered to take care of the scene was only able to identify the victim from the bloodied I.D. card nearly across the room, at the beginning of the trail of

Cold Weather Could Make Things Sweeter Soft snowflakes shifted through the air as it was carried by the gentle breeze over the small land known as Drum Island. Over by the snow covered beach a large ship was docked with its flag still flapping with the wind. The flag was imprinted with a symbol nearly everyone in the Grand Line knew by now. The standard skull and cross-bones with a straw-hat belonged to the Straw-hat pirates. They were infamous for their trouble making habits but through all the havoc they still managed to make many good friends along the way. However, the crew was best known for harboring some of the most wanted pirates in

Out in the forest of the rustic world known as Perception, a rigidly modern home with a traditional shingle roof stood at an intimidating size. The dark grey home seemed to barricade itself with a complex jet black gate that, from the naked eye, was practically impossible to be breeched. One reporter however, was documented to have witnessed one car pass through as the gate seemed to be alive and responded by a series of gears and mechanisms that unlocked it. Unfortunately, no one took interest for the simple fact that only one person claim to have seen it so it was not allowed to be published. Inside, a boy sat up from his bed and leaned hi