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![[SL/Arc] Young Fangs 1: Fight in the Night Empty](https://2img.net/i/empty.gif)
"Rise and Shine newbies! Nap Time is over, all hands on deck!" The morning call to the moderately relentless mundane rinse and repeat daily routine at the base. It wasn't the case for all the men on base... mostly just some of the higher-ups, the new recruits regardless of rank and those on punishment. The sun was ever so slowly creeping upon the horizon letting on that a new day was about to begin. The sheet of indigo glittered with stars would slowly lose it's hold on the sky as a sliver of light blue crept on the horizon. Yep, the brisk cold air flowing around the perimeter and into the windows was also warming up to the people slumping out of their cozy beds and getting ready for the morning drills. Another day, but at least it wasn't foggy nor frigid cold from snow.
A slightly high-pitched yawn could be heard among a handful of other groans and yawns. This certain batch of recruits were more or less the outcasts of the whole squadron based on appearances alone, yet a special bunch. One would think bizarre and disgusted thoughts gazing upon the 'new kids', but getting to know them, based on appearances and skills, they wouldn't really be all that different in battle, let alone assembled in public. These kids, some covered in fur, the others bearing skin and hair, slumped along the barracks to reach the showers to wake up and freshen up for their breakfast and arduous routines. Some called them rugrats, some called them puppies, rodents, cubs and other relative terms to undermine them. Their instructor, upon seeing them slowly waking up, once labeled them as 'Zoaned Out'.
The breakfast didn't help wake the young adults up out of their slumber entirely, but you could see a difference in their stances and countenances. Some more alert than others, either seemed really eager or somehow managed to get enough sleep. They were probably more trained for this than most, they were the top dogs, almost literally speaking. Most of these kids had apparently experienced more hardships than Fervon, which is why they, with their mettle-tested resolves, were taken more seriously outside of someone who wanted to be just like their older siblings. If it weren't for his brothers he'd be scrubbing the ships, the halls and the bathrooms while being used as a welcome mat, so most say, but he did well enough to be accepted and this group was the only place he could fit in without backlash.
These nine kids were fairly special and bunched together because they all fight like savage animals. Animals indeed, despite most of them being humans, but outside appearances are only skin deep, these kids truly were animals in the essence of how well they were able to scout and sniff out conflict in need of resolve... such as a militia zoo would be trained to do. They're now part of a modern Marines program where they use minkmen and zoan devil fruit eaters to their animal instincts and abilities sometimes for patrolling and others for infiltrating. All but two of them also had the common factor that their species/fruits were all carnivorous animals. The other two were a rabbit minkmen and a horse fruit eater, yet they're both arrogant jerks so it kinda works for them. Fangs of The Military is the name. Fervon felt kinda excited about it all, but he was worried that it might not work out for him or how well his brothers did with the program.
"Welcome to a brand new day of more training!" He was a tall man roughly seven feet, white skin but looked as if he rolled around in dirt, and bulky like a refrigerator in stature. They called him "Dogpile". One could say it's his size in particular as he seemed massive in all around stature. Sure he was well-rounded, but he was no pushover, in more ways than one. Mostly a jolly man with scraggly dirt-brown hair and a beastly beard he could hide his fist in. But the way he dressed seemed a little unkempt but that was mostly to help him feel comfortable and give him some ability to breathe. Up close he's frighteningly mastiff, surprisingly smells clean, despite his breath which reeks of constant snacks. "You *puff* awake *puff* yet ferret?" those were not wheezing puffs but intentional puffs from someone who didn't brush their teeth after a card table full of food. "Smell that fresh spring air."
"I am now...?" Fervon groaned as the breath lingered in his face. 'Holy hell, what did he eat this time? Did he eat someone? Did he pull his head out of his arse for some fresh air!? Augh... So much for clean spring air...' the young ferret boy was writhing from the unpleasant breath of his instructor as exhausted laughter surrounded him which suddenly changed it's tune when he breathed in the other faces as well. Somehow Fervon was more tired than the others, seems he either overdid it yesterday or didn't get enough sleep. But, one should know that the life of a Marine wouldn't be easy, never knowing when and where danger might strike.
A slightly high-pitched yawn could be heard among a handful of other groans and yawns. This certain batch of recruits were more or less the outcasts of the whole squadron based on appearances alone, yet a special bunch. One would think bizarre and disgusted thoughts gazing upon the 'new kids', but getting to know them, based on appearances and skills, they wouldn't really be all that different in battle, let alone assembled in public. These kids, some covered in fur, the others bearing skin and hair, slumped along the barracks to reach the showers to wake up and freshen up for their breakfast and arduous routines. Some called them rugrats, some called them puppies, rodents, cubs and other relative terms to undermine them. Their instructor, upon seeing them slowly waking up, once labeled them as 'Zoaned Out'.
The breakfast didn't help wake the young adults up out of their slumber entirely, but you could see a difference in their stances and countenances. Some more alert than others, either seemed really eager or somehow managed to get enough sleep. They were probably more trained for this than most, they were the top dogs, almost literally speaking. Most of these kids had apparently experienced more hardships than Fervon, which is why they, with their mettle-tested resolves, were taken more seriously outside of someone who wanted to be just like their older siblings. If it weren't for his brothers he'd be scrubbing the ships, the halls and the bathrooms while being used as a welcome mat, so most say, but he did well enough to be accepted and this group was the only place he could fit in without backlash.
These nine kids were fairly special and bunched together because they all fight like savage animals. Animals indeed, despite most of them being humans, but outside appearances are only skin deep, these kids truly were animals in the essence of how well they were able to scout and sniff out conflict in need of resolve... such as a militia zoo would be trained to do. They're now part of a modern Marines program where they use minkmen and zoan devil fruit eaters to their animal instincts and abilities sometimes for patrolling and others for infiltrating. All but two of them also had the common factor that their species/fruits were all carnivorous animals. The other two were a rabbit minkmen and a horse fruit eater, yet they're both arrogant jerks so it kinda works for them. Fangs of The Military is the name. Fervon felt kinda excited about it all, but he was worried that it might not work out for him or how well his brothers did with the program.
"Welcome to a brand new day of more training!" He was a tall man roughly seven feet, white skin but looked as if he rolled around in dirt, and bulky like a refrigerator in stature. They called him "Dogpile". One could say it's his size in particular as he seemed massive in all around stature. Sure he was well-rounded, but he was no pushover, in more ways than one. Mostly a jolly man with scraggly dirt-brown hair and a beastly beard he could hide his fist in. But the way he dressed seemed a little unkempt but that was mostly to help him feel comfortable and give him some ability to breathe. Up close he's frighteningly mastiff, surprisingly smells clean, despite his breath which reeks of constant snacks. "You *puff* awake *puff* yet ferret?" those were not wheezing puffs but intentional puffs from someone who didn't brush their teeth after a card table full of food. "Smell that fresh spring air."
"I am now...?" Fervon groaned as the breath lingered in his face. 'Holy hell, what did he eat this time? Did he eat someone? Did he pull his head out of his arse for some fresh air!? Augh... So much for clean spring air...' the young ferret boy was writhing from the unpleasant breath of his instructor as exhausted laughter surrounded him which suddenly changed it's tune when he breathed in the other faces as well. Somehow Fervon was more tired than the others, seems he either overdid it yesterday or didn't get enough sleep. But, one should know that the life of a Marine wouldn't be easy, never knowing when and where danger might strike.
