It felt as though you were tugged by the obsidian chains of fatigue tugging onto your heart and anatomy. Your frame as you infiltrated the designated party for information; paid by Mr. Morgans.

You settled down counter as you ordered a drink. A single drink wouldn't be so bad until you received two?

"Oh! The second one is from the gentleman at the corner over there." the bartender's voice cut off your thoughts.

Trafalgar Law. "The Surgeon of Death". What was a pirate doing here...?