Glaive Island was known for being uninhabited, barren, and supposedly haunted. But like most places in the world, if people say it's "haunted," there's usually something hidden inside. In this case, that "something" was a top-secret prison run by the World Government—heavily guarded and said to be impenetrable… unless, of course, you're part of the Freebone crew.
"So… we're infiltrating a World Government secret base?" asked Arthur as he rolled up his sleeves like a professional fighter, despite wearing a shirt that said "I Love Noodles" with an unidentifiable sauce stain on the back.
"Exactly," Bastien replied, his eyes focused on assembling a mini-bomb made from an empty candy tin, screws, and something that looked suspiciously like a fake tooth—which, according to rumors, once belonged to Lazhar in his youth.
"…and the plan is?"
"We go in. We go out. Done."
"Brilliant. So detailed." Arthur nodded solemnly as if it were the greatest strategy of the century. "I appreciate leadership that doesn't overload the brain."
Nara raised her hand from the ship's upper deck while buttering toast. "Do I have to come? Because cooking while dodging bullets usually results in salty… or burnt… or explosive dishes."
"You stay on the ship," Bastien said. "Only me, Arthur, Juno, and… Ravi are going in. Sorry, Ravi, but we need someone who can take out an entire squad with just a cold stare."
Ravi simply nodded… then calmly popped a small rock into his mouth, mistaking it for one of Nara's candies.
Juno rolled her eyes and jotted down in her notebook: "Note #88: Rock ≠ snack. Ravi ≠ normal human."
Bastien began the briefing by sketching a diagram of the prison in a patch of beach sand using a palm tree twig. He explained the wind direction, surveillance camera angles, guard shift rotations, and an escape tunnel he claimed was provided by a "reformed ex-warden."
But before he could finish, a wave rolled in and wiped everything clean.
"…which is why we have to enter through—" Bastien stared at the now-blank sand, then looked up at the sky in resignation.
Arthur stood and clapped his hands. "Plan A is down. Time for Plan B: chaotic improvisation and empty hope."
"Is there a Plan C?" Juno asked, scratching her head.
"Yes," said Bastien. "Plan C is: we run as fast as we can while yelling 'It wasn't us!' and hope we don't get shot in the butt."
Once they reached the island's edge, they crawled behind a large rock. Before them stood a barren hill with a towering watchtower and barbed wire surrounding the dark compound.
"If this is a secret prison… why is there a huge sign saying 'Keep Out – This Is a Prison'?" whispered Arthur.
"The World Government is brilliant at doing dumb things," muttered Juno.
"Look," Ravi pointed to a group of guards playing cards. "If we bring coffee and cake, maybe they'll let us in."
"Maybe," Bastien replied, "if the cake's packed with explosives."
Ravi then suddenly pulled out sunglasses and put on white gloves.
"For dramatic effect," he said with a serious face.
"Ravi… it's nighttime," Bastien said flatly.
"Dramatic…" Ravi whispered, flipping up his jacket collar like a spy.
Arthur then took out… a small trumpet.
"What is that?" Juno asked suspiciously.
"If we get caught, we pretend we're lost circus clowns!" Arthur blew the trumpet—toot!—sending birds flying in panic.
"If I die tonight," Bastien muttered, "please burn my diary. Don't let Lazhar find out I once took waltz lessons."
With tension that they didn't feel at all, the four Freebone crewmates crept past the barbed wire. Ravi occasionally tripped over weeds, Arthur nearly sneezed from dust allergies, and Bastien was almost caught after stepping on a random soda can.
Yet, with absurd luck and sheer lack of seriousness, they made it into one of the prison's ventilation ducts, which—surprise—led directly to the kitchen.
"Ooh! Coconut pudding!" Arthur cheered.
"Arthur—THIS IS A PRISON! FOCUS!" Juno yelled, yanking him away from the food table before he could taste a suspicious soup labeled "For Level 5 Prisoners – Not for Normal Humans."
And so, the Freebone crew began their secret mission in a way that—honestly—wasn't secret at all. But that's who they were: unpredictable, chaotic, and because of that… somehow always successful.
Or… almost always.