A/N: In which Law, secret geek, meets a comic book villain come to life.

He couldn't believe it.

His chest was full of air, held as his lungs forgot the information the brain was screaming at him. His eyes burned as they were held wide and full of amazement. His mouth was partly open, ramen noodles slipping out as his chopsticks fell to the coffee table with a dull clatter of sound. A few feet away from him, the figure of a man lay sprawled over his computer desk; electronics smashed and scattered like pieces of broken toys. There was a hole in the wall, opened to the night sky. The city outside of it carried on merrily, unknowing of the amazement that had just happened. Debris flittered just inside the wall while pieces of wood, concrete and sheetrock crumbled and drifted both inside and out.

Trafalgar Law finally breathed in, but he choked at the same time. As he struggled to save himself, the figure sprawled on the desk slowly started to reanimate. His cape was torn and shredded, parts of him smoking. It smelled like smoke-smoke but also…something else completely. Ozone – standing too close to lightening. Salt. Body odor. A mixture of scents that seemed new and familiar at the same time.

That cape fluttered as it was tossed aside. The figure sat up slowly, eking a low curse as one gloved hand shakily pressed to his side. Law willed himself to stop choking and just watched the other man with huge eyes as millions of questions flooded through his thoughts.

A cosplayer.

A cosplayer too lost in his fantasy.

A kinky cosplayer – probably from upstairs.

A cosplayer from space.

A cosplayer fell from his plane – no, helicopter, doing stunts above the city.

Wait…there was no mention of this in the forums…!

Law spit his food onto the floor as the figure ruffled his ever familiar rooster hair, which smoked slightly while gloved fingers rubbed debris from the strands. It continued to defy gravity, which made Law wonder what brand of hairspray the cosplayer used. The black half-mask made it difficult to see much of an expression, but the black goggles glittered slightly from the light reflection coming from both outside and inside of the apartment. Hiding the figure's eyes with effective shaping as he looked around himself clumsily.

Then he looked at Law, and Law froze because every part of him was pulsing with ever growing excitement. Even the curly eyebrow was accurate.

"Wow," he murmured with amazement. "Every detail is accurately rendered…"

Debris falling away from him, the figure slowly rose from the broken table. Law realized that his computer tower had escaped injury but his monitor was a goner. He saw a few keys scattered around the broken legs and started to feel his sanity return. Being replaced by good old fashioned anger.

Brushing himself off, Stealth Black rose from the floor and glanced over his condition. His hair did not move, and that was more interesting than the fact that this costume was in some questionable condition. It continued to heave smoke and dust with movement, but was tucked and fitted in such a way that every inch was left battle ready. The boots emitted the same sort of sound effect that Law associated with the suit, and he wondered how this was so. He wondered if the sound was emitted from the thrusters at the back of the heels or from the cushiony material of the boot's wrap. The cape fluttered, dropping debris down onto his carpet.

He lifted his eyes, trying to pull himself back. This was merely a man in a suit that had gone overboard and had just fucked up his apartment – and computer monitor and keyboard. He looked outside, traffic moving by without pause and someone yelling at their dog. The air rumbled with air traffic. The city continued to move on without a second glance his way.

"Hey, you filthy peasant." The voice coming from behind that face mask was raspy and light. Maybe the rasp was caused by the smoke damage from…whatever he did. Law looked because even the phrasing was accurate to the character. But the accent was almost familiar and there was a sort of intonation that made Law think "British."

Once he had Law's attention, Stealth Black asked, "Where's this city from the colony?"

Law made to answer, but then his brow furrowed. Was this guy high? That delusional? Should he call for an ambulance or the police?

He named off the city, causing a furrow to deepen from what he could see of his forehead. That hairstyle was amazing! There wasn't a strand out of place!

"Shitty dog," Stealth Black muttered, reaching up to touch one starkly lettered ear piece. "Hey, give me your location. I was thrown off course."

Germa 66, Law thought with a thrill of excitement. Even the headpiece was battle scarred and appropriately detailed down to the letter. He tried not to show his emotion, but as Stealth Black raspily called for an answer, Law set down his take out and ventured over. Stealth Black stared at him with caution, seemingly emitting danger vibes. Law was oblivious because he lacked appropriate emotions to anything other than what he had with his current city lifestyle.

"What did you use here? Beats or Bose?" he asked, reaching for the headset. His hand was snatched and squished within a death grip that had him squeaking in response.

"You dumb bastard," Stealth Black growled, throwing his hand aside. "Do not touch me. Whatever makes you think you can lay your hand upon me?"

Law looked at him with a bewildered expression while gripping his hand. Then he scowled. "Okay. You're taking this a little too far – "

He noticed then that Stealth Black's gaze had shifted from him to his walls. For this, Law's face reddened significantly with the weight of a shamed guilt. Almost every inch had a poster or wall scroll dedicated to Sora: The Warrior of the Sea and other anime. He had shelves of action figurines, graphic novels held together with weighty book stops, a throw blanket with Sora in mid-pose, and a coffee table that had the latest issue out, along with his sketchpad and charcoal. The camera next to it was going to be used to help upload his latest work, while the Wacom pad nearby was in the middle of recharging. The remote to the television was nearby, settled against his sweating drink.

His skin broke out into a cold sweat as Stealth Black lost that deep furrow to have that visible curled eyebrow lifted with dismay. His hand was still in mid-grasp, but his fingers wilted.

"What shittery is this?" Stealth Black asked incredulously. "What is this…obsession?"

Law exhaled blowfish style. How could he accuse this cosplayer of taking things too far when his home looked like this?

"Big fan," he then muttered, gesturing at himself. "So. I'm in awe of your costume – "

"This isn't a costume," Stealth Black snapped at him, taking a few steps toward one of the wall shelves and looking at posable Sora in different outfits. Law had yet to complete his Germa 66 collection, so he only had three siblings. They were posed in their action poses but 1 was missing his head and 4 had tipped with the destruction of his apartment wall. "Toys? Of…us?"

Law rolled his eyes. "Don't even pretend that you don't know of this fandom. Clearly, you know it."

Stealth Black looked back at him, then scanned the computer and television set nearby. He looked puzzled, scanning the rest of the room before looking at Law. With a few noisy steps, he headed towards the hole in the wall, peering out at the busy city life. Law could hear his mouth falling open from underneath his mask.

"What…is…this…?" he murmured incredulously as Law gave his cape a look of amazement. The hem was only slightly damaged but the "3" stood out like a bright beacon. He decided he was too old to play along with the act.

He pointed at the broken edges of the wall. "However you did this, you'll need to inform the landlord of your shit. I need this fixed. I am not going to live the rest of my life like this."

A helicopter whirred by, causing windows to rattle. The emergency bird tilted in the sky towards the hospital, which was located only a few blocks away for Law's convenience. Someone screamed at "Dave" to stop peeing on the lawn. Someone roared with laughter as shouts erupted. Sirens screamed down one lane while a baby cried. A trash truck rumbled down the street below while kids stared at their phones, walking in a single line on the grass.

"Landlord?"

"Yes. The front office. Fix it." Law then looked outside. He was on the fifth floor of the building, but the fire escape was a few windows down. The apartment above him was vacant. He ended up leaning out enough to look right to left, absolutely bewildered as to how this cosplayer ended up in his home as he did. The outside layer of the structure was made out of solid steel and concrete. He turned and looked back at the man, whose gloved hands clenched at his sides. The skull on his belt seemed to glimmer with the capture of the outside city lights as his goggles shimmered with the same reflections. He reached up to pull his goggles down around his kerchief. Law thought that the addition looked rather jaunty. The material retained such a rigid state that it seemed forever frozen in that condition.

"What…is going on, here?" Stealth Black then breathed out. "What is this world?"

Law rolled his eyes again, arms crossed over his chest. "Listen, mate, it really ain't the time and place for this continued – "

"I ain't your 'mate'!"

Law avoided the boot that narrowly missed his chin by inches. He only moved because in the comics, Stealth Black loved talking with his feet rather than using reasonable and logical conversation. Then he stood dumbly because he was more struck by the fact that he had the reflexes to do so than the actual action of Stealth Black attacking him.

"I…" Law uttered slowly, confusion warring on his features while his hands struggled to do something as his unrest built, "I was…merely…making fun of your speech. I…didn't think that…"

"Reduced to a simpering weasel, like the coward you truly are," Stealth Black scoffed, recapturing his haughty attitude as his blue eyes zipped from here to there around Law's apartment before capturing sight of the television set. Law found his strength to move then.

He hastened his steps to the set and stood in front of it with a burning red face while Stealth Black's eyes were huge with growing horror and fascination.

"What's this?" he questioned, pushing Law aside.

The strength of the man was surprisingly monstrous for his string bean figure. Law felt like a truck hit him, losing his footing and slamming into the remains of his computer desk. Stealth Black reacted to the porn video playing with a high pitched gasp and a sound that could have been horror but his expression reflected too much joy to be horror. "What is this small box? Where is the den-den mushi? Are these little people proportional – what is this – this is consensual? The chains – is he choking - ?"

Law was back on his feet. He couldn't bear it anymore – the childish questions shot with such a childish fascination caused him immense embarrassment before confusion could set in. But he leapt with both feet onto the screen and smashed his television set into the wall.

Unfortunately, the sound bar kept playing so Stealth Black looked around himself for the source of the noise with a light spin. His cape fluttered with the movement. Law unhooked the sound bar with a tug on the cord and tossed that aside.

Stealth Black shot him with a look once the noise ceased. A vein bulged at his forehead. Every part of his reaction was absolute perfection to the artistic rendering he often saw on graphic novel pages, and Law couldn't help but lose his embarrassment to pure awe. This cosplayer was utterly amazing…

"Fix it!" Stealth Black demanded. "Allow me to see it again, bastard!"

Law stared down at him with a frozen sense of bewilderment.

The collar of his shirt was ensnared within a gloved fist and he was hauled completely off his feet. The pure shock of the act alone had him flailing with a shout as Stealth Black leveled him upward with a straight push of his arm. His upper face colored with a rather diminutive blush.

"That woman was of godly perfection," he tittered. "Every curve a work of art! Every lewd gesture utterly open and on display! I had not seen such parts and now that I have, I would like to see more! How is this available from such a small projection?"

Law's toes stretched and curled helplessly over the floor while he clutched the skinny arm with both of his hands. "How are you doing this?" he had to exclaim breathlessly, straining to be released.

Seeing that he wasn't going to have his answers, Stealth Black tossed him aside like he was a toy. Law hit and skid across the carpet in a painful tumble of limbs, feet over head before he rolled to a stop. He looked at the shorter man with disbelief, feeling awed by what he was experiencing. His early certainty that this was only a cosplayer suddenly felt very fragile.

But he couldn't allow himself to think anything else more than that.

Stealth Black reached for the television set and clumsily stood it up against the wall. But the screen was broken and stretched, like hard broken plastic, and the colors behind it splotched into brilliantly colored rainbow bars. Then he scanned the coffee table and beyond, looking for something. Law had the thought, judging by the cosplayer's reaction to the television set, that he was looking for the familiar projectors of Germa 66 technology. Telepathic snails. So he was once again wordless.

The television crashed off the stand and hit the carpet with a clatter of sound. Stealth Black sighed with disappointment, reaching up to fix his kerchief before making his way back to the hole. He pulled his goggles back into place. Without any more hesitation, he hopped out.

Law clamored to his feet and raced to look out. But the man was resolutely marching from the flower boxes below and headed for the lawn. A couple of people paused in mid-walk to stare at him. Law looked from the damage in his wall to the ground below. There was no possible way that this slender man had the ability to jump that casually from the fifth floor to a rocky, uneven terrain like it was nothing.

"Superhero landing," he whispered to himself, but he pushed away from the wall and dashed over to his door.