SAMSON BACKSTORY WOOOOO

Samson Kimblee was 19 when he first enlisted for the Marines. There, he was instructed on the principles of combat, and along his way developed small friendships like anyone would. One friend stood out more than the others, however. His name isn't important, we'll call him Locke. Locke was there when Samson first begun his conditioning, and the two quickly developed a friendship over their mutual love for big anime titties. They spent their freetime spying on a certain Vice Admiral, playing Othello, or just fucking around on something unrelated. The point is, they were both together during all this. The two were naturally assigned to the same patrol crew once their conditioning and training had been completed. During one of these patrols, two eyes in particular rested upon the gray, lumpy fruit. It's unnaturality was only added on by the lavender red swirls tracing along it's exterior. The lucky person who had set their eyes on this fruit wasn't Samson, it was Locke. Fucking.. Locke. Naturally, having been instrued on the use of Devil Fruits, and after a noble Admiral volunteered to demonstrate his ability to transform into an Emperor Penguin, Locke had prayed every night afterwards to Haruhi herself for a devil fruit to call his own. This was it. Almost instantaneously, Locke had taken the deepest bite into the fruit he could, scathing the core with his incisers. Thusforth, he had been gifted with the ability to create, become, and control molten metal. After the initial excitement, he had come to the conclusion that keeping this ability a secret was optimal. People would kill for a fruit of this calibre- a Logia Devil Fruit. Naturally, he informed Samson- he took it lightly. Some obvious signs of jealousy, but nothing extreme.
Knock knock. Open up, it's the Vice Admiral. An extermination has been issued on Minion Island, and your squadron was assigned to participate. One of the smaller Yonko crews begun to.. act up.

The air was thick with heat and fear. Loud ringing and cannons firing accompanied the sharp orders their captain briefed them over. Samson and Locke were exitting their boat. The fight was relatively easy, but somewhere within the chaos they had been separated from eachother. Samson, now on his own, kept to himself and played it safe- he was your average footsoldier, built off of false pride and crumbling from fear. Locke, on the other hand, was locked in battle with another Fruit user- a higher up within the Yonko's crew hierarchy. Only fitting for a higher-ranked Marine like Locke. The cannonfire never seemed to cease, but now occasional screams of peril wrought the air. Locke himself was confident, this man was simply a Zoan user. The real threats are being handled by the Admirals.. I think.
The battle grew increasingly worse for the Marines. By the time Samson had successfully retreated, it was on another crew's boat- their boat had been annihalated entirely, along with their captain.
A buster call was issued. The prior fight had remained on the desolate shore of the island, where citizens had been ordered to evacuate beforehand. The Marines kept up this order of chivalry, until they saw defeat on the horizon.
The entire island was destroyed, including any remaining Marines. Some were even issued to stay behind, unknown they were acting as pawns to keep the edge of surprise, and possibly die in this premeditated assault.
Locke was one of those few. Samson was the only one who noticed his lack of presence. After the buster call had ceased, Samson had already made his decision: After this was over, he planned to leave the Marines, become a Merchant or something. Maybe a mercenary, or a bodyguard.
The scavenging was short, hardly any bodies were collected. The main question remained: What kind of power warranted this much destruction?
The entire shoreline was gray with ash. Samson was one of the few still searching, and very few living trees remained. During this expedition, two eyes in particular rested upon the gray, lumpy fruit. It's unnaturality was only added on by the lavender red swirls tracing along it's exterior.
That was his last experience as a Marine.

It's been 10 years since the Buster Call. After his initial torment, he had forced himself to suffer. He nearly took his own life under some occasions. His parents had refused to rehouse him after his sudden leave. He found his sheltering in Loguetown, and picked himself back up for the next two years.