He sits in his too small cell, his hands and feet shackled with Sea Stone. He stares down at the dark, grimy wood beneath him without the tint of maroon red. (His glasses were lost in Dressrosa; he feels so naked without them.) He smiles and laughs through his gag.
They think him a madman when they come to move him above deck. He's laughing in their smug, but fearful faces. They think they've won this thirty some odd year fight; they don't know how wrong they are. There's no limit to how many times a phoenix can rise from the ashes.
There's a crowd of gleeful, relieved faces in front of Impel Down. They're all government dogs, and he wants to spit bile. When he's pushed forward to enter the prison,, he briefly, very briefly, sees some all too familiar green and red face makeup, some shaggy blond hair. His eyes scan and search the crowd for him, for the person that just couldn't be there. But all he finds is the former Fleet Admiral, the lone solemn face in a crowd of smiles.
"If only your brother was here to see his dream come true…"