Hello, again. I am back to working on The Uchiha Makeover. I know that whatever explanation I may come up with won't be enough of a reason to not post any stories, updates or new, in years. All I can say is that life happened and I had no real motivation to write anything. This is a story that I had written for a creative writing class. I already have a good start on the second chapter. If there is anything I missed please let me know. I do not own One Piece. It is owned by its creator, Eiichiro Oda. The only things I own are the right to like the show, One Piece merchandise I purchased and having Zolo as my favorite character. I make no profit on this story other than any reviews it may get and satisfaction from writing it. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Pairings are undecided at the moment.

"Speaking aloud"

"Thoughts"

Chapter 1: Luck

Zolo Roronoa gazed the ocean before him. His movements were jerky as he glanced to the left and right. Faint clinking sounded from the three earrings in his left ear.

"Damn it. Whatever they injected me with is still in effect," he thought with a frown. The man's left hand jerked through his moss green hair in irritation. His right hand rested shakily against the three swords on his right hip.

The green haired man glared down the cliff he was currently on. There was about twenty feet of straight rock face before it reached the raging sea below. The side of the cliff had no visible hand holds.

"Any hand holds there might have been must have been smoothed out by the salty water," Zolo thought. He was disappointed that he couldn't climb down the side of the cliff. There had been no sign of the ship he was looking for either.

"Damn it," the swordsman thought. "Where are they?"

The sea water retreated revealing hundreds of sharp rocks at the bottom. With very little space between the rocks, he couldn't just drop down from the cliff. In his current state, his reflexes wouldn't be fast enough to cut through the rocks before he reached them.

As the water rushed forward again, it crashed against the side of the island. The force made it seem like it wanted to get on the island. Sea water was sent upward higher than when Zolo first arrived. A fine layer of it hit him and caused him to close his dark green eyes. He sighed as he rubbed as much of it off his face as he could.

"Now I'm wet on top of being drugged," the green eyed male thought as he scowled.

"Where is he?" A voice called.

"He was last seen heading this way," another voice called back. The second voice sounded closer than the first. This grabbed the swordsman's attention. Dark green eyes snapped open as he realized that his pursuers had nearly caught up with him. He risked a glance back at the foliage behind him then scanned his surroundings again.

"Damn it!" Zolo mentally cursed when he found no escape route. The tall bushes rustled behind him and a dozen men stepped from them. They all had lab coats on.

"So you thought you could escape? You are wrong. There is no escape for you. Just be a good boy and surrender. We might even forgive you for trying to escape," a man said with a cold smile. He pulled a syringe while he spoke. The other men smiled just as coldly as the first.

Zolo examined the syringe. It had a purple-black liquid in it. Green eyes narrowed as he decided he wasn't going to allow them to inject him with it. Their first dose was still in his system. He refused to even think about what a second would do to him.

The syringe wielding man stepped forward. This caused the green haired man to step back. It wasn't fear that drove the swordsman's movements, but wariness. He knew the man wasn't intimidating in build or aura. However, that didn't mean he was weak. He was surprisingly quick on his feet.

Zolo doubted he could dodge him right now. Green eyes narrowed in anger as he backed up until he was close to the edge of the cliff. His enemies laughed at his actions. The swordsman glanced behind himself then faced the enemies surrounding him once more. An idea to escape was beginning to form.

"There is nowhere left to run," the syringe wielder gloated. His followers laughed again. Zolo smirked and tipped backwards off the cliff. Hands attempted to grab him, but were too late. His smirk remained in place even as he fell. He rotated as the wind whistled passed him. It rustled his clothes and caused his earrings to clink rapidly. His right hand prevented his swords from clanking together.

There were only two parts to his plan. The first part had been jumping off the cliff. He had just done that. It was the second part that was tricky. This part also had four possible scenarios. If he smacked against the rocks before he could cut them then he would die. The next scenario was that the tide smashed him into the cliff side and killed him on impact. Scenario #3 was that he crashed into the rocks and was drowned when the water came in at the same time. In the last scenario, if he missed the rocks and was swept out to sea, he could swim as far away from the island as possible. It all boiled down to timing and luck.

Zolo noticed the water retreat leaving only the rocks behind. He tensed and gripped the handle of one of his blades.

"Zolo!"A familiar voice called.

The swordsman gazed to his left and saw the ship he had been looking for. He was about to yell back when he noticed a hand stretched toward him. Said hand continued past him and looped around him. He felt the strength of the hold that stopped him momentarily. In that moment, he realized what was going to happen.

"Shit!" It was all he managed before he was yanked toward the ship were the hand originated. Upon arrival, he slammed into the mainmast. His body ached and his vision began to turn black. The green haired man was glad he wasn't dead. However, he made a mental note to beat the one the hand belonged to. He moved into a sitting position dimly noticing that the ship's doctor was asking questions that he couldn't hear.

"As soon as I recover," Zolo realized as he fell forward. "I am going to beat him within an inch of his life." He felt arms catch him and vibrations as the one who held him spoke. There were no words to match the vibrations though. A familiar darkness pulled at him.

His last conscious thought was, "What did those guys do to me?"