We all live in a yellow submarine

Killer glared at his captain. Not that it would have been of much use, he wore a mask after all, but at the moment it was all he could do, and so he decided to glare as much as he could. Should he actually manage to survive this, how unlikely it may seemed at the moment, he would make sure that every single drop of alcohol would be banned from the ship ... and while he was on it, everything that could be used in a similar manner as well. Nobody could tell what Kidd would do when he got desperate. He probably wouldn' t spare the meths or the cough syrup.

The blond's eyes darted back and forth behind the mask and lingered for a few seconds on the motionless bodies of his fellow crewmates, which were lying all over the deck ... apparently unconscious. Lucky bastards!

He longed to do as his survival instinct suggested and just give up as well, but as something as the right hand of his captain he had a certain level of responsibility. Someone had to keep an eye on the redhead. He sighed resignedly, before turning his attention back to Kidd, who hang precariously over the railing, a bottle of saké in his right hand while he waved very enthusiastically but also uncoordinated with his left. The metal glinted in the moonlight. It was only a matter of time before he would fall into the ocean and Killer caught himself wishing it may happened as soon as possible.

"Weeeee all live in a yellow submarine, Yellow submarine, yellow submarine! Weeeee all live in a yellow submarine, Yellow submarine, yellow submarine ..."

Killer could almost feel blood running from his ears and hope made him hold his breath when Kidd went silent for a moment, but his captain had interrupted his antics only briefly to take a sip from the visibly emptying bottle before he started again. A look back confirmed what the blond had feared. It was still there, this goddamn yellow submarine. He had not known that it was possible to hate a color this much!

The disaster had started about four hours ago, with nothing more than an innocuous sentence of the guard. Looking back now, this was all his fault! This man definitely had to die, once this ordeal was over!

"Captain? There is a strange shadow underneath the water ..."

And hell broke loose at once. Kidd, already pretty drunk, had staggered to the stern of the ship, stared some moments intently into the distance before he blinked and bursted into his infernal howling. Shortly after that, Trafalgar - who else should it have been - emerged from the water... and had made no effort to disappear since. Killer had absolutely no idea what he wanted from them... or if he wanted anything at all for that matter... but right now even a sudden attack from the enemy would have made him more than grateful. It had to be more quiet in the afterlife than here!

But the damn bastard seemed perfectly content to simply tail them, leaning - calm and indifferent as always - on the railing and watching the horizon. He had to have earplugs, there was no other explanation for why he was not begging for salvation as well. Killer had the strong suspicion that this was some kind of perfidious plan to drive him insane (after all he was the only one on this ship with at least a bit of common sense), but during the last three repetitions of this demonic song it had become more and more difficult for him to concentrate, so maybe it was just his paranoia.

"And our friends are all aboard, Many more of them live next door, And the band begins to playyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

Kidd's voice spiraled two octaves higher and Killer winced, looking around in panic for something he could cram into his ears, just so he could escape this noise. Searching he took a step back, when his foot struck against something hard. Surprised, he looked down. Lonely and forsaken, a loaf of bread rested at his feet, just one step next to it the almost lifeless form of this ship's cook. The poor guy was probably in a coma. About three hours ago someone had the idea to distract the captain with some food, but the chef had fainted before he had reached him and Killer had not dared to pick it up. Who could say whether he could have mustered enough willpower to get up again if he had come this close to the floor already?

He eyed the bread critically, then looked to his raucous captain and finally back to where the submarine was, still clearly visible despite the dwindling light, as was the lithe shape at the bow. The Blond picked up the bread and weighed it in his hand. It was quite heavy and also quite hard, probably because it had spent a while in their pantry already. And the distance seemed not this far...

A desperate grin spread across his face, as he changed his footing and raised his arm.

"JUST GET LOST ALREADY YOU PSYCHOTIC FREAK!"

He had not thought that it would be this satisfying to see the reigning warlord hit the ground like an oak log, but it really was liberating to put all of his aggression into this shot. The fact that Trafalgar did not stand up again filled him with a nearly ridiculous amount of pride. The feeling was only topped by the frantic calls drifting over from the submarine and its hasty retreat. Behind him sounded a giggle.

"The warlord of the worst generation,

knocked out by a piece of bread.

Well now ...

this is just sad. "

"Captain? "

"Yes?"

"I will say this only once: Rhyme and again and I swear I will kill you!"

A/N: The World Government tries to record Kidds singing on a dial ever since, to use it as a weapon during rebellions or simply as a new torture tool in Impel Down, but so far Killer succeeded in avoiding this. As evil as the Kidd Pirates may be.. there is a limit to the crimes you can commit against your enemies...

as for Law... we all know what this incident caused... the poor poor bread... now its dead...

*runs before killer can...well...kill her...*

One Piece is by the way not my own, as well as this amazing yellow submarine... the former belongs to Eiichiro Oda, though Luffy will probably claim it in the future, while the latter is obviously the property of Trafalgar Law... I assume he stole it from the Beatles but that sneaky bastard left no proof behind...

so long and still on the run Mag!