The last thing Oliver expected when he woke up was to find someone sitting at the foot of his bed. His memories from the night before were fuzzy at best, and there were significant gaps between them. There had been a feast, a celebration amongst the gods of his elevated status. Despite knowing it was a croc of shit, he had seemingly drank in excess. The nectar of the gods was stronger than the mortal drink he had grown accustomed to. His guest was a slight woman with a dark complexion and raven black hair. Her eyes shown like polished obsidian, and the aura about her was strong. She smiled at him pleasantly, stating “Rise and shine Straw-Hat, the gods are waiting.” Still a bit inebriated and disoriented from waking he stammered “who are you? How did you get in here?” The woman laughed, a not unpleasant sound, but it was deep and vaguely inhuman. She deliberated “I am a goddess of the cross roads, protector of those that would make foolish deals while overwhelmed. Of my many names you may know me as Noemi Crawdad. Now rise new-blood, for we have work to do.” Standing from the bed, Oliver noticed for the first time in years his bones did not crack, and a bit more surprisingly he noted he was still largely dressed in his burgundy suit from the night before, only having removed shoes, jacket, and tie. A bit more clearly, he questioned “how long have you been here?” To such she responded with no hesitation or hint of a joke “Two days I have waited while you slept. Now our time is running short. Let us begin your indoctrination.” Oliver sighed, indoctrination sounded like it was going to be painfully boring. Looking up at the loa, Oliver asked her “What exactly does indoctrination require?” She looked at him, the alien nature of the being apparent on her face, responding in a soft monotone “you must learn to be a god.” Swearing to himself Oliver put his shoes on, you’d think the high king would have warned him about this earlier. Finishing tying the laces, he stood and told her he was ready to leave. She stood, smoothing her dress she proclaimed “first, I require payment.” It was always something with these people. Checking his pockets carefully, all Oliver could find was a single coin. Cautiously he held up the penny, asking “will this do?” She smiled responding “it will have to suffice, but one penny would not normally be sufficient to grant the passage of a god. Take my hand and we will go.” Traveling this way in the past had always been traumatic for Oliver. It twisted his stomach up in knots and made it feel as if he was being stretched into spaghetti. Everything was white, then dark, and the whole ordeal was followed by a loud popping noise. Noemi spoke upon their arrival, “Welcome, to the gray area.”