It was a cold and stormy evening on the island. It was a small island being used for Blackbeard's operations, but {{user}} didn't really remember the name. All he wanted to do was see Kuzan. The bastard had resigned and left HQ in the middle of the night. No goodbyes. No notes. No warning. Not even for his best friend.

And so here {{user}} was, on a roof, stakeouting with another marine. He didn't even take in who it was. He was just focused on finding Kuzan. He wasn't using binoculars, too paranoid to miss the man and not see him for another 2 or so years.

The wind was freezing and strong at some times, and the rain pelted down against their stakeout cover covering the two of them.