Chapter 178 - Denouement 1

-4 Days After the War-

"Don don don don!"

Across the globe, activity ground to a screeching halt. Pirate, Marine, and everyone in between reacted the same to that familiar noise: they picked up the snail the instant they were able.

Cross's expression this time had the snails' eyes closed and their breathing deep and even, as though he was steeling himself. When the snails opened their eyes, they held a quiet fire, but none of the madness from the time of the war. And when his lips turned up in a small, tired smile, even the Marines relaxed a bit in the naïve belief that this one broadcast, just this one, wouldn't drop another mess in their laps.

"Hello, people of the world, and welcome back to the SBS."

And then those godforsaken words made them check their hopes at the door.

"I'm not in a good place right now, physically or mentally. I haven't been for a couple of weeks. But I've got help now. I've even found a good therapist! That's why I need to make this broadcast now. I won't take too much of your time, but there are a few things that I still need to share with the world before I bring the SBS to a close."

There was a brief pause as those words sank in, and the world trembled at their possible ramifications.

"I should have your attention now, so let me confirm what I just said: this is going to be my last broadcast for a very long time, so I'm going to make it count."

-o-

Even with its namesake duo gone forever, Little Garden was an inhospitable death trap on a good day. Nobody's idea of a good day involved the prehistoric preserve getting encircled and invaded by a hostile nation. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, the hostile nation was winning, culling dinosaurs, clear-cutting the jungle, and surveying the land for potential mineral deposits.

More immediately problematic, though, was that the army's commanders had gathered in one of the new clearings to set their plans for the world abroad. Red, blue, green, and pink sat around a table with a computer monitor built into its surface, the quartet themselves and the technology proof of their family's nearly unequalled technological prowess.

And so it was that in the wake of calamity, Germa 66 sat down to decide where they would unleash their own fresh, new hell upon the world.

"Water 7 is ideal," Vinsmoke Ichiji declared. He tapped at a spot on the digital simulacrum of Paradise—though the resolution wasn't good enough to render more than basic geography—displayed on the screen-surface of the table. "An island in revolution without access to the Revolutionary Army, it would be unable to resist an assault by our forces. Seizing the island would grant us their entire shipbuilding capacity, as well as the Sea Train and, by extension, the entire rest of the region. Not to mention whatever's left in the corpse of Enies Lobby."

"Nah, no way!" Yonji disagreed. He swatted at the table with excessive force and centred the focus on a much larger—and much more inhospitable—island. "We've been on a hot streak lately, I say we catch ourselves a true prize! The fallen jewel of the World Government, Alabasta itself! Let's see what riches and weapons they have left over from that rebellion. Not to mention I wanna see if they've got anyone else half as hot as that princess of theirs!"

"You're thinking with the wrong head again," Reiju sighed, raising her hands in mock surrender when her youngest sibling snarled at her for the remark. "I, for one, believe there's more potential to be found in calmer waters." She flicked the display to a wider ocean and pointed at the vicinity of the planet's South Pole. "Ever since the Enies Lobby debacle, the Vantruskan Coalition has been rebuilding itself. In less than a year, it will be the most powerful organization in the South Blue. We should move in before they reach that point, and both curtail their growth before they become a threat as well as take their considerable wealth for our own ends."

Left unsaid was that it would also drive their nation's attention away from Paradise—and the East Blue, for that matter—therefore minimizing the odds of running into their estranged brother.

"Now you're being too cautious, sister," Niji said, not unkindly, as he lowered his hand to the map. "This location is somewhat riskier, but the potential payoff is far greater."

The map's display now rested on a hazy section of ocean, a single island marked by a skull within.

"Father has been considering an alliance with Charlotte Linlin for some time now. Were we to present her wayward daughter's skull as an opening gift, it would go a long way to build goodwill with her. The Florian Triangle is a terrifying place, even to the Emperors. But for us? It will only be a question of breaching the fog. And after that?" The blue-haired monster's expression twisted up into a sadistic grin. "We burn the rat hive to the ground with every one of the vermin still inside, and pry whatever loot is left from their hands."

Ichiji and Yonji tilted their heads. Mirrored smiles overtook their faces as they followed their middle brother's train of thought. Reiju quietly bit her lip, trying to conjure a counterargument that would dissuade them from a course that was not only foolhardy (the Florian? They honestly wanted to try and attack the Florian!?), but also seriously risked drawing the only human member of their bloodline into a fight.

Maybe if she backed Ichiji's proposed operation. With the Giant Corps guarding it, Alabasta was almost as hard a target as the Florian; Water 7 was still in Paradise and still had ties to the Straw Hats, but from a military perspective, it was the only sensible option her brothers had floated. She leaned forward to interrupt her brothers' enthusiastic brainstorming—

SLAM!

"All fine choices."

The Generals of Germa all snapped to attention as their Lord himself marched in and sat at the head of the table.

"But I regret to inform you that none of those locations shall be our next destinations," Judge declared.

While her brothers had reverted to the emotionless machines he had designed them to be, Reiju had to put in actual effort to maintain her mask over the sense of foreboding that had suddenly bloomed in her chest. Vinsmoke Judge, bothering to actually compliment someone, was rare enough; the ear-to-ear grin on his face was practically an omen.

"And what brilliant plan do you have to promote Germa's prosperity, Father?" Niji asked (simpered at, really) their progenitor.

"Indeed! Where do we start, Father?" Yonji asked eagerly (sycophantically).

In response, Judge slammed his fist down upon the table, and the display shifted to present not an island, but an ocean. An ocean all in the ranks of Germa were intimately familiar with.

"Home," the Tyrant declared, his voice almost reverential.

Emotionally stunted though they were, such a shameless declaration brought the boys up short, and they showed a rare flicker of humanity—of doubt—when as one they exchanged wary glances. And, in their inexperience with such an emotion, it was Reiju who got over her own dumbstruck reaction first and voiced her concerns.

"Father…" she drew out, her gaze locked on the javelin strapped to her father's back. "The World Government already despises us. If we were to attempt to… reacquire the North Blue… it was made well clear to us at the last Reverie what sort of a reaction any such attempt would invoke."

Judge's grin, if anything, only grew wider. His free hand reached into his jacket and presented a letter, the Government's seal visible upon the portion that folded backward near the top.

"Don't think of it as conquest. With this letter of marque, it's merely… pacification."

And with that declaration, the four Vinsmoke children began to smile. Three out of genuine (if empty) viciousness and desire for violence, and one born of an instinct for survival, the mind behind the smile was already churning with what her 'family' was about to gain.

-o-

"Let me begin by issuing my sincere gratitude to the Five Elders. The fact that they decided to execute Ace when they did, and tip my crew off beforehand, was the biggest reason we were able to intervene. The day we raised our revolution on Sabaody was always going to be the last day that the Straw Hat Pirates were together before we disbanded. Our time was finite, and our separation was unstoppable. And so, you see, I'm thanking the Elder Stars for when they chose to announce the war. Because if they hadn't warned us before we disbanded, if they had waited just one. More. Day. …They would have succeeded."

Ring.

Over the past year, Cross's actions had given the Elder Stars a chronic case of acute indigestion. But only now did they feel legitimate fear because of him.

Ring.

Because now, in what they knew was a direct response to what Cross had just said, a device in their possession was ringing. A device that was never supposed to ring.

Ring.

The katana-wielder slowly got to his feet, leaving his sword behind, and walked over to the unique communication device. It had a solid base with a receiver at its top designed to be held in one hand, and the small speaker hung at its side on a hook, designed to funnel sound directly to the owner's ear. The Elder lifted the phone and braced himself.

Dri—KALICK.

"Hello?"

Silence gripped the room for exactly 42 seconds. Then the speaker was returned to its hook and the phone to its stand.

"…We have been summoned," he said quietly.

Not another word was said. After all, there was not a single word that could be said.

Not when THAT PERSON deemed it so.

-o-

Every hospital within a day's sailing to Marineford, and many even further away, had been filled to the brim with war casualties. Morale in the hospitals was overall gloomy, but most Marines were still very happy they weren't in one particular wing, where Akainu was cuffed to his bed with a sea prism stone bracelet to ensure his powers didn't impede the surgery on his hand.

And for many of them, Akainu wasn't even the person they wanted most to avoid.

"Ulawun… no. You're not…"

Sighing in resignation, the Admiral regarded the cyclops in the bed across from his, her sole eye staring at his maimed arm. Most of her physical injuries would be fixed within a matter of weeks, but mentally…

"I told you as much before," he grunted. "And I told you no lies at all. Don't fault me for your own stubborn assumptions."

The look in her eye was one of hurt and anger, and no small amount of manic fervour. It was a combination of emotions that would push her to greater heights, so Sakazuki paid it no mind.

"Your generous aid is appreciated, and you will be compensated as we agreed," he recited. "From there, the Government's arrangement with Laut Kecil will be maintained. But your continued service in the Navy is your choice; if you are no longer committed to the cause, then you are free to leave. The Navy has already proven itself to be overly encumbered by sentimental liabilities. We will not waste our time catering to one more."

Indignant rage and, more importantly, pride overtook the other emotions, her face twisting into a properly volcanic glower.

"…If not for the will of the Divine… then for the Will of Justice. I will follow you still, Admiral…" And there was her mania flaring back to life as her glower twisted to greater heights of fury. "So long as it means bringing down divine judgment on those vile, pumice-spined—!"

Sakazuki tuned her out as her rant spiralled into a string of increasingly creative promises of agony towards Whitebeard's forces, the Straw Hats, and everyone who flew a black flag in general. His eyes closed briefly, and he saw in his mind's eye the deranged visage of Marshall D. Teach. Fury clouded his expression again, and he channelled every ounce of resentment he felt in his body towards the unholy monster who'd forced the Admiral to actually prioritize something over the heirs of Roger and Dragon dying screaming.

Then another face floated into his mind's eye. One he knew as an equal, who wore a blindfold in his mental image. It was surprising how outspoken Kuzan had been. It was uncharacteristic, even, and that was something he'd been thinking over for days. He had learned before the war that Aokiji was, in some way, responsible for it, and it was easy—surprisingly so—to see that he resented it as much as Akainu, or more. But on the battlefield… it raised the question: was his demonstration something to worry about or, for once in his lifeless career, praise?

The door to the room opened, and Akainu's frown shrank some at the sight of Vice Admiral Onigumo marching in, flanked by a pair of grunts. Onigumo was in no great shape himself, a half-dozen limbs in slings and most of his face held in place by what looked to be stitches and skin grafts. But he was actually capable of standing on his own, and that made him one of the healthiest individuals on Marineford by default.

"A status report, sir. The Vikverir are in high spirits. They've scattered the ashes of their fallen comrades, finished their grieving, and are celebrating their accomplishments. The party, I'm given to understand, has already crossed half of Marineford. The Angevins are performing rites for their knights with honour and swearing vengeance on their foes. They've left the deceased footmen and banner-carriers where they fell. The Suomi are the most problematic. They seem to believe that the results of the war speak ill of the Government's longevity, and are threatening to resign en masse unless we offer a significant renegotiation of their expected duties."

The Admiral processed all of this with no change in his expression. As the seconds stretched into minutes, Onigumo took the silence as a sign that his superior needed more time to think and turned to leave.

"I assume that you are… curious about the motives behind this war."

He turned back slowly, noting in his peripheral vision his escorts biting their lips, so hard it was for them not to demand answers. He understood; even the infamously ruthless Vice Admiral couldn't help but hesitate to answer such a question. "I… wouldn't presume to question—"

Either Akainu didn't hear him, or he didn't care. Either was possible, both were most likely.

"The Five Elders made this decision personally, to fight this war before the Voices of Anarchy could cause any more damage. They made sure the Straw Hats learned of the execution. This guaranteed that, if they made it out of Sabaody alive, they would attempt to intervene and be crushed in our strongholds. Whitebeard was never more than a tertiary consideration. The deaths of Roger's heir and the Straw Hat Pirates, especially Monkey D. Luffy and Jeremiah Cross, were always the ultimate objective."

Onigumo and his escort shifted nervously at this, deeply uncomfortable at the revelation that one of the Four Emperors had been such a low priority for a war against all of his forces.

"And why were they so determined? For the same goal as twenty-two years ago: to kill the spirit of piracy itself. With Straw Hat, Fire Fist, and the Voices of Anarchy slain before the world, they would prove that no matter how far you ran, Justice would come due, and nobody would be allowed to escape the World Government. That defiance of the law has no option in the end save for death."

"…Well, that seems to have been as spectacular a failure as the last time they tried it," Irian scoffed.

"Whitebeard's dying words will have almost as much an effect as Roger's," Onigumo concurred grimly. "So… what's their plan now?"

"Their plan is irrelevant. But I will tell you what our plan is," Akainu said, rising to his feet and dragging the bed he was still shackled to with him. "We are going to take that information and disseminate it to every single person who still bears the Navy's colours. I will not take the slightest risk that they will learn it from Jeremiah Cross instead. If we are going to lose soldiers because of this revelation, we will purge them now. We have already lost too many good men and women, and I am certain that the turncoats still have spies within our ranks."

He clenched his fists.

"Justice falls to us to enforce. And we do not need the continued presence of anyone who will hinder or betray us in the face of what that means. Now, where is T-Bone's apprentice?"

"Seagirl Apprentice Yoko?" piped up one of Onigumo's escorts. "She and the beetle are two floors down, being treated along with the rest of the Glutton's victims. She's been swearing bloody vengeance against the Ship Cutter since she heard that he got away, and she damn near concussed the MP who tried to accuse her of knowing anything about the mutineers beforehand. I know we have to exercise all due caution, especially in these treacherous times, but it seems rather self-evident: T-Bone betrayed everyone, her included."

Akainu regarded the speaker with his usual scowl, nothing overtly concerning.

"I will judge that for myself," he declared. And though there was no accompanying heat to accentuate the contrast, not a person in the room mistook the chills that shot down their spines. "And can someone get a nurse in here to uncuff me!"

Everyone faceplanted at that order. Even the still-bedridden Irian.

-o-

"Next, on an equally sincere but much less provocative note… to those who have already given so much, and who, sadly, will yet have to give so much more. In particular, all of those who turned against the Navy in the middle of the war. You really cannot comprehend how much it means to me. Thank you for everything that you have sacrificed. Every one of you, what you've done means more than I can ever pay back. All I can say is: thank you for listening to me."

Kobato wandered the docks of G-8, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Having only just resumed her study of medicine (a renewed willingness to practice unfortunately did not translate to an immediate ability to do so), she'd been shunted off to the daily base care while the more seasoned doctors handled the flood of casualties from Marineford. But with most of the G-8's personnel having been deployed to Marineford, she found herself without any daily care to perform. All that had left her to do was track the soldiers arriving: too many in critical condition, yet not enough given how many had been deployed, especially since G-8 had to handle overflow casualties from other bases. Hence, the dockside walk.

She came to a stop, her gaze wandering to the ships that had come back. Most were already being repaired, either pierside or in one of G-8's drydocks. Some, though, were simply sitting forlornly, waiting for the facilities and manpower to free up. After so long listening to the SBS, to the ship that had become a person, she had grown to feel as much empathy for a damaged vessel as for a damaged human. And she knew that what she saw now was only the fringes of a tempest whirling to engulf the world.

As the loudspeakers around the base broadcast the SBS (a desired lack of ignorance was the only excuse Jonathan needed), and as she felt her own heart stir within her at the realization that she was among those he was addressing, her eyes closed, stinging beneath their lids.

"…How am I supposed to feel about this, Dad?"

She turned to the old shipwright, who stood next to her, his gaze also upon the ships.

"I know… I know that this has to be the right way, with everything that's come to light, but I'm scared." Kobato clutched her hand to her breast, her teeth worrying at her lip. "The world is changing so fast, and so is what I thought I believed. So many people are suffering because of it. How am I supposed to feel? How am I supposed to trust that I'm doing what's right?"

For a long moment, there was no answer but the waves against the pier and the distant sounds of ship repair.

"Have you been keeping up with your studies?" Mekao asked at last.

Kobato blinked at the apparent non-sequitur. "Dad?"

"Ever since you met that furry whipper-snapper, you've put your desire to help people ahead of your fears of hurting them," he said. "You know the tradeoff that entails: a little pain in the present to spare a lot more in the future. So, have you been keeping up?"

"…Yes. I've been working hard to match the other doctors on the base," she answered slowly.

Mekao's gaze remained resolutely aimed forward. "There's an unfortunate fact of life, Kobato: nobody ever comes into this world without hurting someone. It all comes down to what their actions can do to make up for it. If you believe you're on the right side, then that's half of what matters. And the other half…"

He finally turned to look at her, revealing a pair of weary, bloodshot eyes.

"Whether we turn out to be following the right path or not, our roles take precedence. You fix people. I fix ships. Let the ones working to change the world worry about philosophy and morality. Regardless of who wins, every life and soul that we save along the way is proof of our convictions. Never forget, Kobato: nobody deserves to die in pain. Come hell or high water, new regime or old, that's what we decided, and that's what we'll stick to."

Kobato managed a tearful smile at that, and they embraced, Mekao patting his daughter's back.

…Then a few choice memories of the past few days sprang up, and his smile dropped into a scowl.

"Well, not quite," Mekao muttered. "Almost nobody deserves to die in pain."

Kobato's smile dropped as well, and she slowly broke the embrace. "…I think Jessica is serving bouillabaisse today."

Mekao's only response was to begin trudging towards the mess hall, Kobato following close behind him.

-o-

"Alright, let's run through this one last time…"

"Come on, can't we just go home already? I'm tired! Plus, I remembered everything this time. We don't have to do this every day!"

"So you locked the doors."

"Yup!"

"And the windows."

"Aaaaand the medicines!"

"Swept?"

"And mopped!"

"Records of all the patients we saw?"

"Alphabetized!"

"The tools?"

"Cleaned and put away! As I said, I remembered every last thing!"

"Which, of course, means you also laid out all the pills and bottles for everyone coming to pick up their prescriptions in the morning?"

Lori paused with her mouth open and finger raised in Martin's face. Almost immediately, she turned around. "Mr. Aladdin, we need the keys again!"

The Sun Pirate shook his head fondly as he handed over the keyring. "Almost perfect this time, just keep it up. You're good helpers, both of you."

Clownfish and blue tang beamed as the latter sped back into the infirmary. Aladdin, meanwhile, peered out the door at the darkening district.

"Mmm. You two had better stay the night; it looks like I've kept you over too late. Pray forgive me for asking you to shoulder such burdens." He bowed his head in apology.

"That's OK, Mr. Aladdin, we like helping around the clinic!" Lori said as she ran back out of the newly locked room and returned the keys to the old pirate. "Mr. Jinbe was right, working with you is a great way to talk with people who've met humans! We've heard lots of great stories 'cause of it! Er…" Her grin became noticeably shakier. "While you're, uh, stitching them up, I mean…"

Martin winced at that particular reminder of the current state of affairs, and warily glanced around the darkening streets. "A-Anyway, you don't need to worry about us, w-we can… get home ourselves…?"

"The number of bite marks on today's patients can only mean that Daruma is on a tear," Aladdin answered, shaking his head. "It's not a risk you need to take."

Neither objected this time. Aladdin led them out, his charges clinging to his legs as he locked down the only entrance to his clinic. The only free medical center in the Fishman District, and the only one with physicians willing to go to the main island to treat humans, was becoming increasingly dangerous.

The New Fishman Pirates normally paid little heed to the SBS, but two weeks ago, when they'd heard a member of the royal family's voice on the show, that had changed. And ever since then, their simmering hatred had begun to boil instead…

-o-

"And third… I'm not usually this philosophical, but I've had what I've done literally shoved in my face recently, so I can't go without saying this. I need to express my gratitude for everything that this cruel, crazy, beautiful world has to offer. For all the little pieces aligned in just the right ways, in just the right times. If just one thing had gone wrong, then I, any of us, really, might not be where we are today. It was a long, hard road. Some moments were incredible… others were incredibly cruel… but I will remember each and every one. Every instant that led us here to today, and that will still lead us into whatever future awaits."

The elder heard every word, as he had for the past many moons. He never spoke a word of his feelings, but they were as acute as those of his more… outspoken charges.

Yet there remained a nagging feeling that had grown stronger the longer it had gone on. A feeling that only now seemed to settle into a restful realization.

…I don't think that this is what you intended, he reflected, nobody there to bear witness to his words. It does not seem like this was meant to be… and yet…

In a very slow motion, he raised his head and looked over his shoulder. His time-worn eyes beheld the ones he now lived to protect. They ran about, shrieking happily, oblivious to his gaze. One and all are in a far better place since this stranger had reached out to them and touched their lives.

…And yet… I do not think you would begrudge it… Joy Boy.

-o-

"But I have more to share than just gratitude. For this final broadcast, there's one thing that I need to share. One thing that I need to stick in everyone's minds when they think of me and what I've done. One final piece of knowledge I want you all to chew on while we're away. And that's the "why" behind my actions. The first reason I started the SBS was and still is what they did to Vivi, but from the moment I joined the Straw Hats, I had always planned on changing this world. I didn't expect it to be this fast or this widespread, but since it is, let me share my motivations.

Beyond the Straw Hats, beyond Alabasta, beyond Ohara and Baterilla… beyond even the scope of my knowledge. I started to oppose, and will always oppose the World Government, because of their perpetuation of The Most Despicable Lie, and their denial of The Most Glorious Truth."

You wanted to talk, and you have nothing to say?

Far from Marineford's bloodstained battlegrounds, the only Admiral to have escaped the war without grave injury stared blankly at the horizon in front of him.

You should know better than to expect someone to hand you a straightforward answer. I believe you've already made that mistake.

The place he had come for much-needed reflection was utterly private. An island with no name and no life upon it, more of a rock at this point. A rock that was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, so unimportant it could not be found on a single map.

I'm starting to see why he gave up on you.

The only feature that was worth noting was a pool near its center.

…Alright.

One that, to this day, for reasons none dared fathom, contained thousands upon thousands of books, slowly disintegrating in the water.

You need a direction that much, Kuzan? Go back to where it all started, and remember the first answer that you got.

Coming back to where it all began and hearing Cross's words echo out in the present, Tsuru's words echo out in his mind, pushing him to the brink…

But if you can't accept it, don't bother coming back. You wouldn't work under the mutt anyway.

Nobody would bear witness to it. It would be a long time—years, most likely—before anyone would know.

But from that day onward, the ashen ground of the place once called Ohara was covered by an ever-present sheet of snow.

-o-

"Now, I imagine that most of you are wondering what in the hell I'm talking about. Well, I'll tell you. To start with, the Most Despicable Lie. It is a lie that the World Government has told for centuries, a falsehood they have incessantly propagated for hundreds of years, because it guarantees their dominance over this world. And that lie is thus: you are capable of nothing. Such a small thing, yet so profound: they tell the people of this world, over and over, that they are worthless. That they are nothing, can do nothing, and will never be any more than they already are. That what they have is as good as things will ever be, and that to dream otherwise is folly. The World Government tells you that without them, you are nothing, that without them, you have no purpose or hope. They say that you are capable of nothing.

And it is, and will always be, nothing more than a lie."

-o-

One place thus far only lightly touched by the war and its aftereffects was a seafaring nation that shone like gold.

Actually, scratch the 'like': Gran Tesoro was, in the main, literally built out of gold. And where, anywhere else, such ostentatious vanity would be tacky and tasteless, in Gran Tesoro, the sheer overwhelming wealth so carelessly put on display intimidated.

The architecture was strongly aided by the individual in charge. A single, deranged, ruthless demon of an individual, who at this moment was lounging at the head of a long table.

While normally Gild Tesoro would be spending his time rehearsing for his next live performance or contemplating new attractions and forms of entertainment to lure in new victim patrons, today was different. Today, the (second) Gold Tyrant of the New World was entirely focused on business.

Specifically, he and his executives, and his island's middle-management—pit bosses, bookkeepers, et cetera—were assembled for the single most important task in any casino: setting the odds for bets. Though unlike similar establishments elsewhere, the stakes that Gran Tesoro's customers put money down on are? Were not so insignificant as games of chance or skill.

"Deaths of captains, hundred to one odds," Gild Tesoro declared, his voice as confident as ever. "Collapse of crews, thousand to one odds. Deaths of royalty, ten thousand to one odds. Countries turning revolutionary, ten thousand to one odds. Outright collapse of countries, a hundred thousand to one odds."

Murmurs of agreement and scratches on paper met his words. Scratches that would become the odds that would set the standard for Gran Tesoro's 'economy', so to speak, for the foreseeable future.

"Suggestions on the cut-off point for when our high-rollers have 'turns of fortune'?" a pit-boss asked.

"Alert the house when a patron hits the ฿400 million mark, then direct them to the usual complementary VIP Suite," Baccarat declared.

"But that's a whole hundred-fifty million more than three months ago!" another pit-boss protested.

"And? What of it?" Dice grunted around his cigar. "With the rate we'll be pulling down whales, we can afford to take the hit on our margins. We'll make it back in no time, especially if fresh-faced rookies get pushed over the edge before we turn them around."

"Just make sure to keep an eye on our new guests, and all should be well. Gold misters at full functionality, security working double overtime, the works," Tanaka drawled, patiently tapping out a staccato rhythm on the table. "If we've said it once, we've said it a hundred times: so long as we see where the money is going, we can ensure it does not go where we do not desire it to."

The second speaker slowly nodded. Meanwhile, Baccarat asked the next question for their boss.

"What's our policy on the involvement of the Straw Hats?"

The Casino King flashed a far too shiny smile before leaning back and cackling. "If any of them are involved, all deals become void! Blanket policy, no refunds and no debate! After all…" The man leaned back and forth, a mad glint in his eye and an even madder smile on his face. "The house must always win, and that's one game you can only win by not playing."

Few showed pleased expressions at this declaration. None spoke in disagreement.

"At least…" he added with a menacing smirk. "Until we can rig it, just so!"

Absolute silence met that declaration. Unconcerned, he sat back down, a casual smirk on his face.

"And if the opportunity never comes, then that's a win on its own. Now, moving on. I need a new female lead. Usual business, reach out to our contacts, and make it happen before the next show, or I'll skin you all alive. Especially with the model industry dead in the water, you should have no trouble finding candidates. Got it?"

"Aye, sir!"

As the meeting moved onto… somewhat lighter matters, a maid hard at work cleaning the carpets slipped away from the door she'd been eavesdropping at.

'And there's my in,' Carina mused, cheerfully humming her scales.

-o-

On a scarred but unbowed island that had once been the Navy's foremost training ground, scores of soldiers stood in lockstep formation before their scowling commanding officer.

"MARINES! What is our duty on these glorious seas?"

"TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT AND PUNISH THE GUILTY, SIR!"

"And has our flag upheld this duty thus far, Marines?"

"SIR, NO, SIR!"

"What crimes do you levy against our flag, Marines?"

"BLINDNESS TO CORRUPTION! INDIFFERENCE TO INJUSTICE! PARDONS FOR THE UNFORGIVABLE!"

"Heavy crimes indeed! And what does this make our flag?"

"GUILTY, SIR!"

"Indeed so. A terrible tragedy indeed. And worse yet, for having sailed under this flag, so too are we guilty of these self-same sins. Sins that can never be forgiven, nor forgotten. So I ask you, Marines! What would you guilty, damned souls do with your lives?"

"UPHOLD OUR DUTY, SIR!"

"Even should you yourselves be judged? Even at the cost of your own lives?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"…Then so be it. Henceforth, let us quit the purity of white, and don the black cloak of the damned! Henceforth, we shall venture into the deepest of pits, the darkest of nights, and we shall fight! Until our last breath is spent! Until our last drop of blood is shed! UNTIL THE BLUE SEAS RUN DRY! WE, THE NEO-MARINES, SHALL NEVER SURRENDER, UNTIL THE SCOURGE OF SIN IS CLEANSED FROM THIS WORLD!"

"YES, FLEET ADMIRAL ZEPHYR, SIR!"

-o-

"Now, I realize that learning of The Most Despicable Lie is jarring, I understand, I truly do, but do not lose hope. Do not lose hope, because as horrible as the World Government's Lie is, it is countermanded by that which they have tried to obfuscate with their Lies for all these years. And The Most Glorious Truth, which they would deny to their dying breath?

That you are capable of anything. Again, so simple, yet inherently true. No matter how much the Government might lie and call you capable of nothing, the Truth is that anyone is capable of anything! For ill sometimes, yes, but just as often for good! If you can imagine it, if you can dream it? If you have the will to reach for it? Then you can achieve it. Oh, it will be hard, harder than any of you can possibly imagine, but it is that alone which is most Glorious: the possibility of it all. People are filled with boundless potential which cannot be denied once acted upon, and no amount of Lies will ever, EVER! be able to suppress this single. Shining. Truth."

-o-

It was a dark and stormy night.

While this literary device normally served to mark the beginning of a hero's journey, or of a villain's grand design, this instance was different. Rather, it instead marked the… 'regrettable' end of a villainous scheme. More than one, in fact.

On the island in question, the ground lay muddy and ashen from the destruction that had ripped through but a scant few hours ago. Yet the fires had barely had any time to burn before the heavens gracelessly broke their floodgates, and a veritable deluge plunged the ravaged island back into darkness, the gloom of devastation broken only by the occasional crack of lightning.

The only things still living on the island were a group of pirates that had, a few days ago, aimed to take their first giant step in conquering the world. Now, though, they were a sorry sight. Their shanghaied submarine was little more than scrap metal, the result of pushing it to its limits for too long with no expertise to know what those limits were, and their rampage to vent their anger now left them without any substantial shelter.

And so the now-infamous Blackbeard Pirates were huddled together under a makeshift tent—a hastily and haphazardly erected bunch of tarps, really—vainly trying to keep the wind and rain from extinguishing the fire that was their only source of light and heat.

They were a (again, subjectively) pitiful motley bunch: ranging from a wrestler to a drunkard to a twice-fallen tyrant, all monsters of some variety, all in discontent and decrepitude.

"MRMRMRMRMRMMPH—BUT BIG BROTHER—RMMMMMRPH!"

…Though at that moment, the biggest slimeball among them was quite literally a ball of slime, in that he was currently in the form of a massive amount of sentient mud gagging his big-mouthed, lizard-haired, gravedigger of a younger brother.

"Hmm—hurk…" Doc Q hummed thoughtfully through hacking coughs. "Interesting technique to wire a jaw… are you—wheeze…—sure you don't want me to help? It wouldn't—huff…—be a problem…"

"Not to worry, Doc, not to worry, I have it all under control! No need to check him at all! Just stay right there, everything's fine!" Caribou declared with an ear-to-ear grin. When the decrepit doctor looked away, he leaned in close to his still-struggling brother and hissed quietly, "Keep your mouth shut, fool!"

Was attempting to smother Coribou a bit of an escalation in the brothers' usual antics? Perhaps. But this time, the sweaty idiot's brainlessness really took the cake. The last thing Caribou needed was for his dopish sibling to clarify his lies.

Because yes, he knew he'd only absorbed the unconscious—and regrettably poison-drenched—Blackbeards so he could turn in their heads.

And yes, he'd only gone looking for an infirmary to save his own neck when it turned out the poison could get him from inside his mire.

And of course, he'd only vomited up the Blackbeards within grabbing distance of the antidotes they'd needed by sheer coincidence!

But they sure as hell never needed to know that!

And though in his slimy heart he still cared about his brother, Coribou's survival instincts tended not to kick in against anyone who hadn't tried to kill him already.

Speaking of which…

"Hey, swamp-shit, when's this so-called 'employer' of yours calling?" Avalo Pizarro growled, stalking up to Caribou in high dudgeon and his knuckles cracking up a storm. "We need a new ship yesterday, and I'm getting sick and tired of this mudhole!"

"We wouldn't be stuck on said mudhole if someone!" Catarina Devon snapped, shooting a gimlet eye at the member of their group who was obliviously knocking back a bottle. "Had actually done his job and kept that last salvo from hitting the sub's engines!"

"Hey, I hit one of 'em, don't that count for—hic!—nuthin' at all?" Vasco Shot slurred back, any real threat in his tone destroyed the fact that he was pointing to Devon's left.

"YOU WERE SEEING DOUBLE, YOU IDIOT!"

"Hey, who'ze you callin' an idiot?! …No, really, who? I forgot what we weres talkin' 'bout…"

"RAGH! USELESS! EVERY ONE OF YOU IS USELESS! THERE ISN'T ANYONE WORTH EVEN HALF A DAMN IN THIS ENTIRE CREW!"

"I mean… if it weren't for me, holding up the sub, you'd have all sunk already?" piped up Sanjuan, standing just offshore with water up to his breastbone, as sheepishly as a mountain-sized Wolf could.

"SHUT IT, WIDE-LOAD!"

"Okay…"

"And as for the rest of you—!"

"Pshhh-koh…"

Devon's nascent tirade trailed off, her eyes warily tracking their most inhuman member as he shoved his way to his prosthetic feet to shamble away from the dying fire.

"And where do you think you're going, iron-sides?" Burgess rumbled, glaring daggers into the ex-jailer's back.

"Anywhere… Pshhh-koh… but here…" the killing-machine ground out, meeting the wrestler's gaze with a mask of indiscriminate, but for now low-burning, hate. "There's no reason to keep up this charade."

"The hell are you—?!"

"We all joined Teach because he said he had a plan to seize the world. And we believed him. But… Pshhh-koh… his plan failed… so now there's no reason to stay." Shiliew turned his back on the group, his coat rendering him little more than a silhouette in the torrential downpour. "So I'm leaving. And anyone who stays… is nothing short of a fool."

That statement took about two seconds to sink in before half a dozen more people stood up to leave.

Lafitte shot to his feet, his plastic smile cracking. He scrambled in front of the departing pirates, waving his hands in a panic. "N-N-Now now, let's all calm down and just try to talk this—"

"Get in my way, Mime, and I'll kill you," Pizarro spat, shoving Lafitte aside and kneeling down to loot what scarce resources they had.

"Yeh, whut he said! I'm goin' back to doin' my own thing! Ain't gonna do nuthin' for nobody, no how!" Vasco Shot agreed, joining Pizarro.

"Shoulda done it from the start, no fucking idea why I bothered listening to a crazy bastard like that to begin with! Screw this crew, I'm gonna go start a war or two to take the edge off!" Catarina sneered, hooking her sword into her belt.

"And I should, um, probably go back to Elbaf…" Sanjuan mused, shifting about in the sea. "I need to see if there are any giants that I need to kill for threatening my title…"

"Now, see here—!"

While Burgess and Lafitte busied themselves trying to dissuade the deserters, Van Augur and Doc Q (and Stronger) remained quiet. Whether they too were contemplating leaving, or simply wished to remain out of the worst of the storm (and out of the impending crossfire) was anyone's guess. Meanwhile, the burgeoning argument continued to drift away from the light, words rapidly becoming heated.

But before the first fist—or worse, more likely—could be thrown, the one pirate who hadn't said a word or moved an inch since they settled around the fire spoke two short sentences.

"Go right ahead. But you won't live long."

The escalating argument abruptly died, everyone present turning to look at the speaker. Shiki the Golden Lion's tone was calm and casual, almost carefree. It was this abnormal shift from his usual arrogant rants, more than anything else, that drew everyone's attention.

Of course, this was not the type of company to stay in stunned silence for long. "And why… Pshhh-koh… is that?" Shilieuw intoned. "Feeling sympathy… for your fellow failure?"

It wasn't much, but the schadenfreude prompted a brief round of snickers and mocking chuckles. Contrary to expectations, rather than descend into a frothing rage, Shiki just shrugged.

"It's true, you have very little reason to listen to me. I've lost a lot of respect. It's all my fault, really, for letting my pride take control," Shiki declared, his zen demeanour unshaken. "Before Straw Hat, before even Roger… my biggest mistake was that I thought I could go independent. Thought I could go my own way, start my own empire."

The brief mirth was long since gone, and with every word, unease crept in to replace it. Creeping became a stream when Shiki chuckled darkly, yet ruefully.

"But now… now I know better. Know that it was folly, idiocy to ever dream otherwise. That man's crew… once you join it, you can never leave. I never knew Teach before he came to Impel Down, but 'Blackbeard'? Oh, I knew him the moment I saw his face. The others, they'll pay for their treachery, they'll pay. Hell, Edward already has… but not me. No, not me. I know my place, and I'll live in it for as long as he'll let me."

Four members of the crew, the ones who'd sailed with Blackbeard the longest, could genuinely say later that they were merely unnerved and not scared spitless by that little speech. The newcomers could not, and some did better than others at hiding it in that moment. But no matter how scared they were, they all paid very close attention as Shiki, one of the proudest pirates in the world, shamelessly bootlicked with a contented smile.

"Plan A failed. But it's a minor setback. Our Captain is destined to shake this world. And if you need any more convincing… has anyone noticed that he's not the only one missing?"

That got everyone to stop pretending. All the gathered buccaneers, even Shiliew, knew fear in the face of Byrnndi World. Impel Down, after all, had quite vigorously agreed with the Government's decision to keep that man on ice. And more than fear of the world, it was uncertainty that kept them all rooted to where they stood: uncertainty as to who would come out on top of the clash they all knew was happening right now.

Uncertainty as to who they'd prefer to come out on top.

"Jihahahaha… You all just sit back and watch. Watch… and bear witness to the darkness that shaped our world into what it is today."

-o-

It was a dark and stormy night. And it was even darker where the Logia of Darkness sat, fuming, just a little bit into a cave on the other side of the island from his crew's encampment that blocked most of what little light there was. It fit his mood; since devastating the island, he'd sat here, in darkness, muttering feverishly to himself.

He had lost before. Recently, in fact, he had lost to Magellan. But he always got back up and took his revenge in less than a day, and all was well again.

But this loss was different. This time, he'd been thwarted. Utterly. There was no way for him to claim the prize he'd poured all his effort into acquiring. It was a new sensation for him, and he found he didn't like it. Even the idea of revenge felt hollow when he imagined it.

He needed time alone to decide his path forward. Time to get the urge to destroy everything the light touched out of his system.

And the towering silhouette that appeared at the mouth of the cave was the opposite of what he wanted. Even if it was exactly what he needed.

"…World. You're on the edge of mutiny right now. I said don't disturb me."

"Mutiny?" World grunted. "Barororo! You can't mutiny against a Captain you never followed, you fat fool!"

Utterly unbothered that Teach was now getting to his feet, World jostled a handful of pebbles he'd picked up.

"You're just another rookie who blew it when it mattered most. And you blew your weakness to me, too. So, any last words?"

"…Good."

"Eh?"

"Means I won't have to justify killing you."

He still hadn't turned around when World saw him yank on a rope. And it was less the absence of light and more the muffled sound of the rain that told him that something had now blocked the cave entrance.

Something that he realized very quickly was a black velvet tarp.

For the first time in a very long time, Byrnndi felt panic. He spun around as fast as he could. Swung his hand, pebbles arcing out to perforate his captor—

They hadn't gotten two inches before something grabbed the wrist holding the pebbles, prompting them to clatter harmlessly to the floor. Something drained Byrnndi of strength, and his legs gave out, bringing him to his knees.

"It was always my plan to make the world tremble before me, and I'm still gonna do it…"

For the first time in the world's life, he felt scared… and small.

"One way… or another."

So very, very small.

-o-

Shiki's words had affected the hardened criminals. For a good few minutes, they stared apprehensively into the storm. But let nobody say that these were the most mentally sound people in the world, nor the most patient.

"Ya know what? I think I'd rather take my chances," Pizarro scoffed, levering himself to his feet again.

"Chances with what, exactly?"

The CRACK! of thunder tearing through the air served to both herald Teach's return from the darkness and to stifle his crew's cries of shock.

Marshall D. Teach looked like a drowned rat, his eyes squinted to keep out the rain, and his hair and beard matted across his face. But the number of new injuries he sported… was zero. He was disturbingly clean.

The only one not shaken was Shiki, who merely chuckled, "Welcome back, Captain. We've been waiting for you."

Teach grunted in acknowledgement, his expression not shifting an inch. "You were talking about something?"

Catarina covered her shaky breathing with a quick cough. "We, uh… were wondering when you and World would be getting back, is all? Just, you know… worried?"

"World won't be coming back."

The assembled pirates stiffened, and Pizarro opened his mouth to say something asinine—

CLANG!

Only for all words to die when a mangled helmet was tossed into the center of the camp. World's helmet.

"Ever."

(In the years to come, the Blackbeards would several times contemplate returning to the site of ruin that rumours rechristened World's End Island, to look for its namesake corpse.

Every time, they would lose their nerve.

For fear of what they might find.

For an even greater fear of what they might not.)

Everyone stared at the helmet, be it in shock, horror, or in Shiki's case, dull interest. He let out a puff of cigar smoke before voicing the question none of the others dared to:

"So, what happened with him?"

Shiki actually straightened when Blackbeard stalked toward him, but Blackbeard marched past without comment or action, and so his eyes and the rest of the crew's quickly turned toward his actual target. Sanjuan Wolf, who hadn't moved from where he was, stared at him warily.

"The world made a decision. We all make decisions in life. That's part of life. World? He made a stupid decision. And it cost him. But I did respect him for it."

Vasco Shot swallowed audibly. "You… respected him for trying to mutiny?" he asked, in a terrifyingly sober voice.

Blackbeard paused on the shoreline. When he spoke, his voice was in the same dulled tone as every other word he'd said.

"Well, of course I did. Even if he made a stupid decision, he followed through with it. All the way to the bitter end. And I can respect that. Because in that regard…"

Blackbeard held his hand out, as though he were reaching out to grasp something. Sanjuan Wolf stared down at the little man in confusion…

And then from one moment to the next, he found himself, for the first time in as long as he could remember, staring up at a hand bigger than he was.

The World's Largest Giant had one second to squeal in terror before the palm slammed onto his head and forced his head beneath the waves.

"He was just like me."

Shiki blinked, mildly unnerved. Everyone else was terrified beyond words. How could they not be, when there was a Titan—a pillar of darkness, stretching to the sky itself—within spitting distance of them, effortlessly drowning the largest man in the world with one hand?

"Stubborn, determined, dogged."

And then there was what he was saying. The voice of sheer evil, like massive boulders grinding against one another, terrifyingly casual, drowning out the thunder rumbling around them. Casual and even, while Wolf flailed in the waves, fighting for even a single gasp of air.

"These are the inherent qualities of greatness. The sheer force of will needed to make a decision and stick with it through everything the world throws at you. No matter the pain you are dealt, or the suffering you endure, or the agony you survive by the skin of your teeth, you hang on to your decision, with all you have, and you follow it to the ends of the earth. Past the very mountains of madness."

Before long, Sanjuan Wolf's flailings weakened, fading away into a terrifying stillness. The Titan's hand jerked his head from the waves, letting the mega-giant cough and wheeze and hack up hogsheads of seawater.

"Of course, I respect the world. After all, I've been sticking with my own decision all my life. Through hell or high water, I have had only one driving force in all my life, and I intend to see it through. No matter what I have to do, where I have to destroy, or who I have to kill."

The Titan slowly turned around and stared down at the pirates cowering before him.

"I am the man who will be King of the Pirates. And you're going to do everything you can to make that happen."

A deaf man could have heard the 'or else' that those words carried. Then, in the blink of an eye, the Titan was gone, and Teach stood in its place.

His stance was relaxed.

His expression was blank.

And his eyes were pits of darkness, from which no light could escape.

"Is that clear?"

Twelve of the Blackbeard Pirates snapped into shaky, desperate salutes, and from all of them—even Wolf, especially Wolf—the cry of "YES, CAPTAIN!" echoed to the ends of the island.

The thirteenth of their number, meanwhile, merely raised his cigar in a casual acknowledgement and gave him a wide, resigned smile. "As ever and always, my captain. To the end of the world."

Satisfied with the declaration, Blackbeard marched up to the campfire and planted himself beside it, ignoring the exceptionally wide berth his crew was giving him.

As for Caribou, though still wrapped around his brother, he was no longer on the verge of smothering him. Coribou, he reckoned, wouldn't say another word for a month. Both of them were now fully aware that they had stumbled into something that they would never get out of alive. But at least, maybe if they kept their heads down, didn't draw any attention—

"Hey. Caribou."

Why did the world hate him so much?!

"Y-Yes, Captain?" the slimeball simpered, rubbing his sleeved hands as grovelingly as he could manage.

"This employer of yours, the person who put you and the Worlds up to hitting Impel Down," Blackbeard said, not looking up from the fire. "You're sure he can get us a new ship, right?"

"Ah—y-y-yes, yes he can!" Caribou's head was a blur; he was nodding it so fast. "Our employer is—I-I-I mean, was? Was! A very resourceful individual! Price was noooo object to them, and I'm sure a ship will be of no issue, particularly as I still have the prisoners he wanted me to acquire! Once I call him, he'll get us a ship for certain! And-And-And! I'm sure you'll be quite interested in conversing with him yourself! After all, a person like this… their services would be very… Ah, beneficial, shall we say? To an undertaking like ours! It just, you know… might be useful?"

"Hmph. I'll keep that in mind." And that, mercifully, was that.

Caribou's heart rate didn't slow for the rest of the night. He wasn't fool enough to say that things couldn't get any worse, but when his idea of improvement was having one boss who punished failure with death instead of two, things had definitely never been worse.

-o-

"And so, the world knows the Lie and the Truth. Honestly, been thinking about spilling those for a while. Now, as to the consequences of these revelations… well, let's be honest: for many people, these truths must seem too self-evident to be of any real note. Or perhaps they're irrelevant to your lives, and will have no great effect on how you go about your days. And that is all entirely fair. Because these revelations are only meant to be of any import to those who weren't aware of them. To those who have had the Lie ripped away, and the Truth unveiled to them. If even one person has had a revelation from my words, has found the courage to set off in search of their dreams, and fly in the face of what is apparently impossibility itself… then this all will have been worth it.

"Because I guarantee you… Now that the Truth is out there, there will be so many who set forth in search of their dreams, in search of achieving the impossible. And not a single one of them will forget who lied to them. All. Their. Lives.

"So enjoy that parting shot, for as long as you can."

-o-

The living war machine stood in front of the elevator out of Level Six, the unconscious, moaning bodies of the impertinent fools who'd tried to stop him lying on the floor around his feet. Two guards remained standing, resolutely guarding the door, and while their ability to maintain bowel function did them credit, the fact remained that they were visibly, absolutely terrified. Case in point, the mere fact that they had used their Transponder Snail to dial the Warden instead of futilely attempting to stop the war machine.

"Warden Hannyabal speaking."

"This is Douglas Bullet. I'm leaving."

"WHAA—how in the—?! Why—! How did you get out of—"

"The intruder unlocked my shackles. Nobody locked them back."

His bland tone prompted a vein to pulse briefly on the snail, which grumbled to itself for a moment before frowning silently.

The guards' hands twitched towards their weapons, awaiting the order to subdue him. Hence, they nearly fell over in shock when their orders came through.

"Let him pass."

They boggled at the snail, which was still frowning.

"Escort him to Level 1. Vice Warden Magellan will meet you there."

Understanding and relief flooded their beings as the snail hung up. Their fear didn't fully subside as they entered the elevator—it couldn't with Douglas motherfucking Bullet riding up beside them completely unshackled—but the promise of Magellan's presence was a massive reassurance.

Minutes ticked by as the elevator climbed, the ride otherwise silent, nobody saying a word.

When Level 1 finally came into view, the doors opened to Magellan already clad in a violet sheen. The guards retreated to a corner with almost unseemly haste as he addressed Bullet.

"What, exactly, makes you believe that you are allowed to leave simply because you have decided to?"

"I have decided to accept the deal."

"…Deal? What deal?"

"The only one relevant for anyone in my position."

It took less than a second of consideration before Magellan's eyes widened. The Vice-Warden's mouth dropped open, fully prepared to tell Bullet exactly where he could stuff said 'deal.'

"Accepted. Vice-Warden Magellan, stand down."

Only for his mouth to slam shut when fate declared that it had other plans for the abomination before him. A declaration made in the form of a group of individuals who had not been present several seconds prior, let alone standing directly behind him. The venom staining his body bubbled in fury as he turned around. His anger didn't dim despite his surprise at the white-clad Government agents standing there.

Bullet, for his part, simply walked past them all towards the exit. Trying desperately to keep his temper, Magellan glowered at the man leading them.

"Cipher Pol Aegis Zero. What business do you have here?"

"Just a bit of cleanup," huffed a woman with puffy blonde hair and a prominent white choker. Her voice was tinny and metallic, contrasting wildly with her prim demeanor. "That self-absorbed fool Ratchet tried to break his agreement, yes? We'll take him off your hands, and you can rest assured you'll never see him again."

That was almost enough to calm Magellan. He might have preferred Ratchet dead, but he definitely wanted him gone.

"Very well, his holding cell is on Level 4," he said as the earlier pair of guards returned to the elevator.

"We will also be taking Nightin of the World Pirates."

Magellan's anger began simmering again. "By what reasoning? She is a wanted pirate who broke into this prison. She is under our jurisdiction."

"She also has yet to receive a proper trial, or been sentenced to any form of internment. We will be taking her so that Justice may be properly carried out. Naturally, we will also need you to provide the necessary antidotes so that she does not expire during transit."

The concentrated rage nearly made Magellan black out. Now that it was convenient for them, they chose to be bothered by the book. Just so that, for whatever reason, they could take the one single person who had violated Impel Down and not escaped or died—the slight salve on the prison staff's pride—and spirit them away for their own devices.

His mind seized on the only other thing he could argue at this point.

"Fine. But that does not apply to Bullet. He was charged with hundreds of crimes against humanity, terrorism against the stability of the world, and sentenced to thirteen consecutive life sentences!

"All of those charges are hereby suspended."

Magellan swore he chipped a tooth, so hard was he scowling.

"That. Thing. Is a demon."

"And it has taken the deal. So now, it is the World Government's demon."

"Magellan, has it still not sunk in?" the metal-voiced woman simpered. "You've already been demoted because you haven't been showing the Government the proper respect. It's time to come to heel and acknowledge that we know best."

The smirk on her face made it clear that she knew exactly how Magellan felt about the situation, and she derived great joy from that fact. She held his gaze for a moment longer than the others before turning her back and entering the elevator. Only one of the guards escorted them down; the other stood by, his mouth a grim line.

"Inform Hannyabal that I am going to jump into the hole to Level 6. Headfirst. Hopefully, the concussion will help this migraine," Magellan said as soon as the elevator was out of sight.

While in freefall a minute later, he reflected on the irony of what had just happened. The past four days of conversation with 'Cancer' and 'Pisces' had been promising, but not quite enough to convince him to make their alliance permanent. Yet the past four minutes had obliterated whatever reservations he had left.

-o-

"Now, with all that having been said, let's wind this down. Lastly, and perhaps the most important thing I need to say, is this final promise: the Straw Hat Pirates will return. We have disbanded, dispersed, and disappeared for now, but it won't be forever. We're not yet equal to the challenge of the New World, so we're going to change that. We've gone into hiding to train for the second half of our journey. And someday… maybe in a few years, maybe a decade, they'll come back together. And when they do, they're going to take the world by storm."

'How did I get here?' was the question that ran through Vice-Admiral Momonga's mind when he awoke in the dark, in a different room from where he'd gone to sleep.

There were two answers to such a loaded question.

On the one hand, he was here because, at his core, Momonga was a simple man with a simple, familiar life story: in his youth, he sought strength. He knocked over every dojo he could find, challenged every swordsman he encountered, all simply for the thrill of it. To better himself, to fight ever stronger people. A hollow existence, upon reflection, but a simple one, and no less enjoyable for it.

Then, by coincidence, Momonga saved a town from a gang of attacking pirates when he challenged their captain to a duel. There were no stakes, but the aftermath of his victory - the relief of the people he'd saved, the praise he'd received, instead of the usual scorn - was like a drink of water when dying of thirst. And on top of that, the pirate had been quite a bit stronger than the usual fare he'd challenged.

After that, Momonga put his skills to use by backing a cause: he pledged his blade to the Marines, and never looked back. And for the longest while, life had been… acceptable. Better fights, a decent sense of purpose, even men he could admit he'd been proud to serve with at his beck and call. He'd even managed to stay out of politics during his rise to his current position, attaining his coat with skill and will alone. In all, a respectable life and a career well lived, by his reckoning.

By his reckoning, anyway.

This past year… to learn of all that had gone on in the shadows, the lies he'd been told and believed for so long, everything that had been hidden from him! But then, it wasn't as if he'd ever bothered to look very hard to begin with. His attention hadn't been on anything that he couldn't perceive or touch with his own hands, and that was on him.

Which left the Vice-Admiral where he was now: lost and confused as he pondered where he belonged in the world, and to what cause he should pledge his blade to now. All because he'd been so focused on his own pursuits, to the exclusion of all else.

Of course, this was only the personal answer to his initial question.

The literal answer was that Momonga had frustratingly little clue as to how he'd come to be seated in a dark room: the last thing he remembered was going to sleep in his personal cabin, still exhausted from the war a few days prior, only to reawaken chained to a wall in a prison cell. A prison cell that looked a lot more like a well-kept, if Spartan, bedroom than a place to keep criminals, but he was still bound in place, so his already uncharitable mood was downright Scrooge-ian.

Fortunately, this question was answered when the door to his cell swung open: a very recognizable silhouette stood in the frame.

"'Ship-Cutter' T-Bone," Momonga drawled, eyeing the gaunt man. "I will admit, I thought your actions during the war were the height of your audacity. It's rather disconcerting to be wrong so often in so short a period of time."

The decidedly ex-Captain of the Marines hummed noncommittally as he stepped into the cell, pulling the door shut behind him. "You will find, Vice Admiral, that one comes to question many things when one finds the temerity to look beneath the surface of what the world presents to you. And no, sir, that was not a jab at your expense."

Momonga snorted dismissively. "First, don't call me 'sir' anymore. We're no longer in the same chain of command, not that I ever cared for honorifics to begin with. And second…" The Marine bit out a sharp tsk. "It might as well be. Focus can only be an excuse for so much."

T-Bone strode forth into the room and seated himself before the Vice-Admiral in the seiza position. "The past is immaterial. What matters now is your present, and how it will shape your future."

"A recruitment offer, then," Momonga surmised, his expression blank.

"Or a day that never existed, if you decline," T-Bone said calmly.

"And if I accept, mutiny against the Marines?"

"Among other things, though our reach and goals extend far beyond just the Navy."

Momonga's eyes closed.

"…Tell me everything. But keep in mind," Momonga stated firmly. "I do not accept yet. I simply intend to have all the facts before reaching a decision."

"Very well, then. But you will accept, Momonga."

"Because you think you can break me?"

"No. Because while you are a simple man, Momonga… I also believe that you are a decent man. And that, as such, you will make the right decision. So! It begins with Jeremiah Cross."

"And just like that, I have a migraine."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't."

-o-

"As for why I'm saying 'they' and not 'we', I'm not confident in my chances of making it. But don't you white-hats start dancing on my grave just yet, because I'm sure as hell going to try. I'm going to fight, and claw, and scratch by as much as I damn well can, until I've got nothing left to give. But even if that should come to pass, then I'm not going quietly. One way or another, I leave you this last message with absolute certainty: regarding Monkey D. Luffy. Regardless of whether or not I return, he will. And when he does… one last time for the road, Captain?"

For almost a full minute, the world was silent.

"Dot dot—KALICK!"

And then the unforgettable voice of the man who had challenged the world three times and never lost spoke. And the entire world bore witness to his will.

"My name is Monkey D. Luffy. And I am the man who will be King of the Pirates."

-o-

"Thank you… And thank you all for listening to me. This is Jeremiah Cross—"

"AND SOUNDBITE—"

"Signing off… for what might be the last time."

And with that, I put down the microphone with a heavy sense of finality. It was… harder to let go of than I'd expected, only emphasized when, for the first time since I received it, I hovered my finger over the power button. And… then I held my finger there. Because if I pressed that button, it would mean…

"Not even a full second. Fastest case of second thoughts I've ever seen."

I looked up from the transceiver to one of the first… well, 'allies' I'd made in this place since getting my head on straight.

It would have been nice to call her a friend, but I'd been literally stabbed in the back three times over the past week and had gone through a dozen different team lineups in that same span. If she managed to survive past a month, then maybe I'd update our relationship status.

Still, it wasn't normal circumstances that I'd be accepting therapy from someone in a black cloak and an unmarked white mask. Didn't even have the temerity to ask for five berries for it.

"It's… not exactly a small decision, Duze," I pointed out.

Her mask tilted patiently. "No, it isn't, is it? After all, according to you, that device has defined your life for the past year. It's not just a part of your identity; it is your identity. So to set it aside, even temporarily… do you think you're prepared for that?"

I rolled the words over in my head, a grimace on my face. It took me less than a second to have my answer.

"No, I'm not."

And with that, I pressed the button. I swear, that click might as well have been a gunshot.

"But I wouldn't be me at all if I didn't boldly go where others didn't dare tread," I said, plastering a shaky grin on my face as I stowed the now-inert piece of machinery back in my bag.

She nodded. "All that being said, keep your past in mind as you move forward. Retaining a firm grasp of who you are will be key to maintaining your sanity. Forget it, and you'll be no better than the beasts hunting us. And I don't just mean the ones with more than two legs."

She had said that at least a dozen times already over the past few days. But when part of the daily routine was fending off howling and literally bloodthirsty lunatics, it was a very mandatory part of survival.

"Keep moving forward," Lassoo said, nudging his head beneath one of my hands. I let out a sigh as I petted him, the action helping me keep myself anchored.

"Trust in the friends around you," Funkfreed agreed, his trunk pressing gently against my face.

"YOU'RE not alone," Soundbite concurred, tapping his eyes against my neck.

I took the precious time that I needed to breathe, then opened my eyes again and turned to look at the commotion going on outside. The few lights we had danced in the endless darkness, those holding them working to hold up the thin, swiss-cheese perimeter we'd managed to establish.

"When you're ready, Cross," she prompted, her posture relaxed. "We can continue with your session if you wish."

I took a moment to draw in a steadying breath as I contemplated that. My only response was to slip my gas mask down over my face. Wish I didn't have to wear the stuffy thing, didn't even really work with the crack in its visor, but as I'd come to quickly learn, a measure of anonymity was a necessary part of survival when going out and about in Serpent. When you're locked in a human slaughterhouse, you really don't want anyone to draw a bead on your face so they can hunt you down later.

"Later, then," Duze nodded. I returned the gesture, promising to continue soon.

With my head as centred as it was going to get, I stepped out of the shack and cast my gaze over my assembled "forces".

Almost everyone who had joined up only did so out of survival and/or because I was, apparently, the outright craziest bastard in this hellhole. Most of them were bedraggled and vagrant-looking survivors, the majority of whom would either shuffle off or bite it before the "day" was out.

But there were a few who naturally caught my eye. A few who had affirmed that they would lay down their lives for my plan, whom I had at least a small bit of confidence and trust in.

Like a figure who was twice as tall as I was, hauling an armload of rubble across our encampment.

Like a white-haired woman casually erecting and collapsing string figures with the silken threads strung between her fingers.

Like the hunched-over man warming his hands at a fire, which in turn was burning brighter for his presence.

And like Duze. She had been a godsend. I hadn't even realized how jumbled my thought process was when I saved Benedia, and I probably would have shattered if I had kept cracking like that.

…Benedia… wait, where in the hell was—?! …oh crap.

NOM!

"SONNUVA—!" I strangled a bluestreak in my throat as I felt an outright bear trap clamp down on my left shoulder. I jerked my head around to glare at the culprit who was gnawing at my scapula. "For the last time. Stop. Doing. That."

"Mmmm, but yu tashte sho goo…" was Benedia's garbled response as she kept trying to bite off my arm.

"…Hey, Cross? You can THANK ME ANYTIME, Y'KNOW."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snarled as I worked on levering my quote-unquote comrade's teeth out of my flesh, which was not as easy as it ought to be. Seriously, was she spring-loaded or something?!

"Giving you PAIN TOLERANCE FOR BITING~" Soundbite sing-sang.

"Yeah, and you can thank me for every day I haven't drowned you in your own mucus yet. Keyword there being yet, by the way, I'd suggest you mind it." And with that final declaration, I managed to yank Benedia off and shove her in front of me, keeping a firm grasp on the back of her collar.

I then raised my voice to the rest of my followers. "ALL RIGHT, PEOPLE! The 33rd Block Reavers hit us hard a few hours ago, and I know we're still smarting from it, but we've built up a bit of a reputation at this point, and we cannot let it slip now! Everyone who's good at fighting, group up so we can split you in half. Usual deal: away team makes them bleed, home team keeps shit locked down. We hit them hard, hit them fast, and we do not stay separated for any longer than we have to. We clear?"

A general chorus of agreement made the rounds of the assembled convicts. Only about half of them had any real heart to it, but that was a major improvement from the start of this week.

"Right then," I grunted as I dumped Benedia to the ground like a sack of flour. I stalked through the middle of the pack, the cannibal trailing close behind me. I stuck my hand out, and Funkfreed filled my hand with cold steel.

"Let's get this done."

And with a small army at my back, we strode out into the Darkness.

Just another day in Hell: fighting for the chance, however slim, however impossible, that the next would be our last.

-o-

Alvida wouldn't deny that she was nervous when the 'small-time' pirate she had regularly belittled while they were allied (and outright usurped when he was arrested) returned to the Big Top. And contrary to what she'd have once thought, the army of ex-Impel Down prisoners following him wasn't the main reason for her trepidation.

The nervousness only grew when the first thing that the man did upon setting foot on the Big Top again was walk right up to her. He looked her in the eyes for a few seconds, and then walked right past her, up to a balcony where he could stare down on the whole deck. It was a dramatic position, she had to admit. Within seconds, everyone present had their eyes on him, riveted.

"The truth of who and what I am is out now," he announced. "All of you know it. And all of you know the kind of fire that's going to bring down on us from now on."

Every man and woman present listened in utter silence. The clown's lips slowly split into a wide grin.

"So, let's make this clear: I don't want to be the Pirate King, never have. Witnessing the first king's journey was more than enough for me. I just want to carve my own path on this sea, with loot, adventure, and most of all, plenty of flashy carnage. And I'm the last person in the world who'll hold it against you if you don't want to face the danger. Whoever wants to stay, whoever wants to go, now's your chance to make your choice."

The words hung in the air, and there was a wave of huddled, muttered conversations. It was really only to be expected with a revelation of this scale, but it left a stifling tension in the air. And when the tension was finally broken, it was in the only way possible for the Buggy Pirates: flashily.

"Buggy! Buggy! Buggy!"

Cabaji and Mohji (and Richie) raised the chant first, drawing everyone's eyes. And from there? It spread like wildfire. From old crew to new, a singular chant extolling their newly returned and newly badass boss.

"BUGGY! BUGGY! BUGGY!"

"THREE CHEERS FOR THE BOSS!"

"GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK, CAPTAIN!"

"YOUR NOSE IS AS GREAT AS EV—AARGH!"

That particular dimwit got tackled and gagged before Buggy could be tempted to blow a hole through his own ship, but then they wouldn't be the Buggy Pirates without some (or a lot) of idiots thrown in the mix.

Oblivious to the near-miss—and really, anything besides the roaring acclamation—Buggy grinned from ear to ear.

"ALRIGHT, EVERYONE!" he roared over their chanting. "THE BUGGY PIRATES ARE BACK AND FLASHIER THAN EVER! BEFORE WE PROPERLY CELEBRATE, WE'VE GOT A FEW THINGS TO TAKE CARE OF! SO EVERYONE GET YOUR NEW OUTFITS AND QUARTERS SORTED OUT, CHOP-CHOP!"

Alvida, who had remained silent the whole time (albeit pumping her fist with the others), remained where she was as the crew went to work. Buggy, meanwhile, descended down to the deck again and came to a stop next to her, ostensibly to watch the crew get settled in. Instead, Alvida heard a whispered, "This way", and noted a subtle hand signal towards his cabin.

At this point, ready to leave the raucous crowd on the deck behind and also eager to get this meeting over with and settle her nerves, Alvida followed Buggy to the captain's cabin in the stern. She noted his visible relief and pleasure at seeing the room undisturbed: though she'd have been well within her rights to claim it for herself while the clown had been incarcerated, something had stopped her. Some sense that somehow, Buggy would return, and that in that case, it would be incredibly rude to mess up his room.

Buggy opened one of the sea chests, producing another fine reward for her discretion: a very, very high-quality bottle of rum. That had tempted her, certainly. Two glasses followed.

"Go ahead and sit down," Buggy stated, pouring a finger of rum into two glasses.

Alvida sat, curious. She accepted the rum and took a dainty sip that slipped down her throat like honey. Oh, that was good stuff.

"So," Buggy stated. "First things first. I'm okay with keeping up our previous dynamic if that's what you want."

"We can try. Though I expect we'll have to settle into something new regardless. I… saw what you did to the Marines. Can't exactly unsee it," Alvida replied.

He nodded, unbothered.

"Second. What I said to the minions on deck goes for you, too: you want to stick around, you'd better be ready to handle the kind of battles the Pirate King's crew is expected to get into. Because like it or not? We're New World-bound."

Left unsaid was precisely how hellish such battles would be. After all, one such battle had been broadcast to the world mere days before. Alvida took another sip of rum to hide her disquiet. She was no stranger to violence, and with the defences of her Smooth-Smooth Fruit she fancied herself a formidable combatant—for Paradise. She had no illusions about how long she'd have lasted at Marineford.

"Well," she said, putting on some bravado. "I do like a challenge."

Buggy scrutinized her for a long, hard moment. Just long enough to make Alvida start to sweat. And then, mercifully, he nodded again. "Good. That leaves one last item," he said as he stood and turned to look out the stern windows.

"The former prisoners," Alvida ventured, taking another sip. "They're all from Impel Down, and all a lot stronger than the thugs we've been dragging around up until now. You're certain they won't be a problem?"

Buggy scoffed. "I make a point of surrounding myself with minions of a certain quality."

"Brave and loyal?"

"Greedy and gullible. Stupid's a good bonus. Now… I'll defer to you to get them all situated."

Alvida turned that duty over in her head. Well, it would be a good head start on improving herself in combat, and it made her the de facto second in command. Not too bad a demotion after her stint as captain. She exhaled briefly. "Fine. Not the first time I've had to wrangle a large pack of meatheads. When do we set sail again, and what's our heading?"

"As soon as possible," Buggy answered. "And Alvida…"

Fear stirred once more in Alvida's breast as he turned back to her, his face serious as a heart attack.

"See to it that the Big Top's extra-large reins and chains are still in good condition. The moment that we're ready to set sail, we're grabbing some Sea Kings and paying a visit to Amazon Lily."

Alvida blinked several times. Opened her mouth, a litany of objections ready to spill forth. Closed it. Finally…

"Why there? Even if the Empress would see you, isn't it a Revolutionary island now?"

"Boa Hancock left with Straw Hat after the war. If he's anywhere in the world right now, it's there," Buggy answered, waving his hand dismissively.

At the mention of Straw Hat, the fear bloomed into outright terror. "You cannot be thinking of trying to get revenge after all this!" she shouted, shooting to her feet. "We've tried before, and look where it's gotten us! To try again against even greater opposition—"

"It was never about 'revenge' to begin with, Alvida," Buggy interrupted, expression still as serious as ever. "So no. It's about what this has been about from the very beginning: hedging our bets on our survival."

-o-

"And what news is there of the Straw Hat Pirates? Has there been any luck in tracking them down?" Rear Admiral Brannew asked his assembled Marines.

Despite the fact that the forces committed to Marineford still remained combat-ineffective, the world waited for no one, and the Straw Hat Task Force had been reassembled almost immediately, despite almost the entire team being walking wounded. They couldn't go after the Straw Hats anytime soon, but Brannew and his officers all knew that any successful operation was preceded by weeks or months of preparation and intelligence-gathering.

"We know for sure where some of them are," one Marine officer said. "Boss Dugong and his four apprentices never left Sabaody: they seem to have made the archipelago their training grounds. Their strength is already in trouble, but they can also disappear just by diving into the water. If there's any good news there, it's that they're attacking pirates at least as much as they're attacking Marines."

"And we have confirmed that Nefertari Vivi and Carue have returned to Alabasta," another piped up. "They have resumed their roles within the royal family, and the princess's Gust-Gust abilities have removed what little chance we had of blockading the country, combined with the Giant Squadron and Accino Family."

"Hmm… she may not return to the Straw Hats at all. She only accompanied them for lack of opportunity before." Brannew paused, and when nobody else spoke, he asked, "Are those the only ones?"

"We had a confirmed sighting of Nico Robin in Tequila Wolf shortly before the war began. But she disappeared not long after the war when the Revolutionaries invaded; she has most likely joined Dragon's forces," a new officer said. A ripple of disquiet ran through the room. That had been a nightmare scenario for many of them, and there had been sighs of relief when she'd joined up with Straw Hat. That relief hadn't lasted long. "There have been unconfirmed sightings of Conis around Eden's Cinders, but with all the war and carnage in that place, it's hard to be sure."

More silence. Yet another officer sighed before putting in his two beris:

"And a rumour is going around that Tony Tony Chopper is somewhere in the South Blue; it's barely worth mentioning, but we haven't heard anything contradictory."

Brannew made a final note before sighing as well.

"So, the remaining Straw Hats have disappeared completely. If they're training for the New World, they'll likely be in places that match their skill sets. Gather up the psychological profiles we've established for the Straw Hat Pirates and identify their strongest skills, then start cross-referencing them against any notable places for those skills in the Four Blues and Paradise."

He straightened up. "There are no words to describe how much trouble will result if they are permitted to enter the New World after putting forth the effort to grow strong enough to challenge it. We must find and destroy them before they are ready to reunite."

"And if we fail?"

The question received no response, simply because no one in the room knew the answer until the new Fleet Admiral was chosen…