Hello there :)

Welcome to my One Piece fic. I've had this story brewing in my head for years now, and have a whopping three whole saga's worth of adventures in store, however I have only recently been inspired to bring my own project to life. Hopefully I'll be able to stick with this project long enough to see those first three saga's become a reality, and I hope you'll enjoy reading through all the adventures I have in store for my characters.

On that note this fic will star a cast completely of my own making, in fact 99.99% of all characters, locations and the like are all of my own devising. Obviously the rules and facts of the world Eiichiro Oda's brilliant mind has created will be the same, so I will not do anything to that goes against that, but the world of One Piece is a constantly expanding world of mystery and adventure, and I hope that there is a place for my fic in it. Some of his characters will be mentioned in passing or, in vary rare scenario's, interacted with, but they will never be main characters and I will do my utmost to keep them in character. I will do all I can to keep my story from classing with cannon, but please don't blame me if something I create is later found to be impossible as One Piece continues (e.g. If I give a character a devil fruit that appears later in the One Piece Manga and don't kill them off.)

I also am not Japanese, and would be lying if I said I knew enough about their language and culture to use in my fic. I will be using the english translations for everything and will not include honorifics or other such cultural things in this story since I'll probably get them wrong.

Keep in mind that I am but a single man, I have a pretty busy life right now and cannot work on this fic all day every day. However I do not want to leave anyone waiting for an unspecified amount of time on any major cliffhangers. Therefore since the first few story arcs are pretty short I will only upload the first chapter of a new arc once the whole arc is finished, and will upload a new chapter every day until it's conclusion. This may not work any more as the arcs get longer but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I also may make spelling or grammar mistakes that I missed after proof reading, so if you spot any I'd appreciate it if you messaged me pointing it out so I can correct it. I would also love to hear what you like about my story and any constructive criticism you may have.

This story is set just after the war of the best, and so as much as I love the strawhats they wont be in my story. This will follow a crew of my own making as they take their own route along the grand line in search of one piece. I hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I am not a rich, 40 year old Japanese man who owns an incredibly successful manga series, I am a poor student from Britain who doesn't even study English. One Piece is property of Eiichiro Oda and it is only with his good grace that a Japanese legal team is not currently trying to sue my ass.

A single italicised word, ALL CAPITAL word or bold word is used for emphasis.

"Italicised speech represents thoughts."

An italicised sentence is a dream, flashback or other mental scene.

"CAPITALS REPRESENTS SHOUTING!"

"Bold speech" is the name of an attack.

Chapter 1

Start of a destiny! The man from the shipwreck.

"Get moving slave!"

With a crack like thunder, the whip thrashed down on to the old man's back. He let out a gasp of pain and fell to the ground as his knees buckled from underneath him, grasping at the wound on his back where the long, thin cut was bleeding heavily into the dirty rags he was dressed in.

"I said get moving!" the guard yelled, bringing another lash down upon him and drawing out another cry of pain. "Honestly, you slaves are so damn lazy. When I say get to work you get to work!"

This was Sanning Quarry, a small island in the south blue that served to produce a small percentage of the stone being used to create the great bridge Tequila Wolf on the world government's behest. Despite slavery being officially outlawed, Sanning Quarry was entirely populated by slaves bought by world government agents and guards hired by them to keep them working. A fair amount of money went into keeping knowledge of this island, and the many others like it across the world, hidden from the general public, but that amount was a fraction of what the cost would have been if the world government had to buy all the stone required legally.

Slavery was the cheaper option.

The guard, dressed in the same grey suit and cap as the many others on the island, brought another strike down onto the slave before him, and with a sickening cracking sound the old man collapsed, unconscious.

"What? It's gone down already?" the guard sneered. "Typical slaves, taking naps every chance they get. Oi, you there!" he gestured at a nearby slave; a young boy no older than ten with frizzy orange hair that covered most of his face. "Get this lazy beast out here; I've got better things to do than stand around here all day.

"R-right away sir!" the boy whimpered, running over to the old slave's side. He slung the old man's arm around his shoulders and lifted with all the force he could muster, allowing him to slowly drag the older slave away. After a few more minutes of dragging his fellow slave through the dirt, the boy reached a group of large brown tents and hauled the injured slave outside the one with a hospital sign on it.

"Elder 1? Elder 1? Are you in here?" the boy called.

"Coming 209. What's the problem?" replied a frail voice. Seconds later the curtains parted and a small, wrinkly old man stepped out. He had a bald head, but more than made up for the missing hair with his thick, bushy white eyebrows and long white beard that curled around to the left in a spiral shape. "Oh dear," he sighed, noticing the injured slave 209 had brought with him. "Set him down on a free bed, I'll get him patched up immediately."

A few seconds later the injured slave was lying on one of the thin, dirty mattresses neatly arranged around the tent. 209 lifted up the slave's arm as Elder 1 finished wrapping a length of bandages around his torso. "There we go, all done," Elder 1 said as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "He'll need to stay here for quite a while, but he'll live."

209 gave a small smile and made to leave, however Elder 1 put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "And what about you?" he asked, eying the way 209's knees quivered slightly. "Pulling a grown man is a tiring job, especially for a boy. You ought to rest for a while."

209 fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze. "But Elder 1, if the guards catch me slacking off they'll punish me."

Elder 1 frowned. "Aye, that's true." He muttered, then a lightbulb went off over his head. "I know, why don't you go down to the edge of the island, near the ocean? The guards never patrol that far out and they won't be able to see you from the guard tower. If anyone comes asking where you are, I'll tell them I sent you to Alpha or Beta camp to get some more bandages."

"A-are you sure?" 209 asked, looking down at his feet. "I don't want you to get into trouble for lying for me."

"It's fine, it's fine." Elder 1 insisted, giving 209 a gentle push on the back. "You've been working hard today, you deserve a little rest."

Keeping on the lookout for guards, 209 made his way to the edge of the island. Unlike the rest of Sanning Quarry, which was nothing but solid stone, the waves had eroded away at the ends of the island enough to make a small ring of pebble beach. Making sure to sit near a rock he could hide behind in case a guard showed up, 209 gave a little breath of relief at taking some weight off his aching legs.

He sat there for a while, gazing out at the endless stretch of blue before him. "I wonder what's going on in the world outside?" he thought to himself. "I wonder if anyone even knows we're here?"

He idly grabbed a flat pebble a tried to skim it along the water, but only succeeded in making it plop against an incoming wave. "I wonder if mom and dad are thinking about me?"

Just then he noticed a dark shape on the horizon, a tiny smudge of black in a picture of endless blue. It was too far away for 209 to make out, but it grew bigger every second.

"What is that?" he thought. "Is it coming closer?"

Slowly but surely the smudge started to form into a shape. The bottom part of it was long and flat, whilst the top half appeared to be some kind of lump with four long things attached to it. As it came closer and closer it became more defined, turning into an increasingly familiar shape. Colours started to fade into it; a lot of brown, a lot of blue, and some sort of tanned white colour. With a growing sense of horror, 209 started to recognise the shape.

"Is that a- a person!" he cried.

The shape did indeed appear to be some kind of person, a man by the looks of it, lying still on top of a large plank of wood. The tide was gently bringing him towards the beach, and when it came close enough 209 rushed into the water and dragged him back onto the beach. Once they were both safely out the water 209 dropped to his knees, panting heavily from the effort it had taken, then looked over at the person he'd rescued.

He was definitely a man, probably in his early twenties by the looks of him. He was fairly tall with a toned, muscular build and lightly tanned skin. Despite being soaking wet his messy, medium length hair was spiking up and was a very dark shade of brown, almost black, except for a thin bright red streak above his right eye. He had quite sharp feature, and around his mouth was a well-trimmed black goatee.

Miraculously his clothes seemed to be undamaged, if not quite a bit wet. He was wearing a black tank top with a red line down the left side underneath a sleeveless brown jacket with a white fur lined collar. He had (probably intentionally) ripped blue jeans with a small gold chain dangling from the left pocket and a pair of black boots. He also had a tattoo on his upper right arm of a very detailed looking holy cross.

"H-hey, hey mister! Are you alive?" 209 asked as he started shaking the man. When he got no response, 209 put his ear to his chest above his heart. "He has a heartbeat," he stated, moving his hand to hover above the man's mouth, "and he's breathing normally too. I guess he's just unconscious." He then put a hand on the man's wrist, and frowned at how cold he felt. "But he's been in the water far too long; he might have hypothermia or something."

He tried shaking the man again, but he stranger showed no signs of waking. "I can't leave him here, he'll freeze to death" 209 though. So, just as he'd done with the old man earlier, he slung the stranger's arm around his shoulders and started to drag him back to the medical tent.

It took a great deal more time and effort to get the drifter to the camp since his muscle mass made him far heavier than the old man, and when 209 finally reached the tent his breath was ragged and his face covered in sweat. With a last grunt of effort 209 pulled the stranger inside and called out for Elder 1.

"Hmm, back already? What's the ma-," Elder 1 paused mid-sentence as he spotted the unconscious man, and instantly ran over to help 209 bear the weight. He guided him over to a free bed and set him down, then grabbed a pile of mucky blankets from the corner and threw them on top of the stranger.

"We need to get him warmed up immediately," Elder 1 muttered loudly, a note of worry in his voice. "There don't seem to be any physical signs of damage on him, but his temperature is way below normal. If we don't heat him up soon it may prove too much for him, heck it's a miracle he's alive in this state as it is."

"W-what can I do to help?" 209 asked between breaths, trying to ignore how shaky his legs felt.

Elder 1 gave him a proper look over and frowned. "You sit down a rest for a bit" he said, holding up a hand to cut off 209 when he opened his mouth to protest. "We don't have anything other than these blankets to help him warm up right now, but if he catches a cold soon, which is very likely I might add, I'll need you to run over to the guard tower and ask for some medicine, and you can't do that when to look like you'll keel over at any minute."

Reluctantly, 209 sat down on the nearest bed and waited patiently from his strength to come back. As time went by other slaves came in one by one for one reason or another, and after seeing the outsider they began to crowd around him, watching him with interest until there was a small circle of people surrounding the sleeping man's bed.

As the sun went down and the island grew dark, Elder 1 took one of the man's arms out from the pile of blankets and wrapped a hand around the wrist. A look of relief washed over his face, and he turned to 209 with a small but heartfelt smile. "His body temperature's returned to normal, and he seems just fine. There are probably a few internal injuries or some minor brain damage, but his breathing shows that his condition is stable so I have no doubt he'll live. It's a good thing this lad's so solidly built, I doubt many other men would be in as good a condition as he is."

"Thank goodness" 209 whispered happily as the other slaves around him mumbled in relief to each other. Suddenly a loud cracking sound made everyone jump, and they all turned to the front of the tent where three guards were waiting.

All three of them wore the standard grey suits, and two of them had their grey caps pulled low over their faces so the shadows hid their eyes. The man in the middle, however, had a similarly grey coloured jacket over his suit and had his greasy black hair slicked back over his head. He was a thin, lanky man with a deathly pale complexion, a hooked nose and beady grey eyes that looked at the assembled slaves with a mixture of malice and revulsion.

"Vice-warden Skarringrove, what are you doing here?" Elder 1 gasped.

Skarringrove stepped forwards, a cruel smirk plastered on his face. "Have you forgotten already slave number 1?" he asked in a mock innocent tone. "Tonight's the weekly inspection for Charlie camp. I was planning on having you monkeys dance for a while to test your physical fitness, and yet here I find you all crowded around in a circle as if you're planning something."

He peered into the circle, and a grimace crossed his face as he noticed the sleeping stranger. "What's this? A slave sleeping before rest hours?" He walked towards the crowd and cracked his whip to make the slaves back away. "Well we can't have that can we?" he said, raising his foot to stomp on the man's head. "Guess I'd better wake him up."

"No wait! He's not a slave!" Elder 1 cried. "He's suffered extreme hypothermia and may have terrible internal injuries! If you attack him now it may well kill him!"

"Shut up slave!" Skarringrove snapped. "If he was a guard I'd know him, and the only other things on this rock besides guards are slaves. Perhaps I'll have to punish you for lying once I'm done with this one."

"No! Stop!" 209 cried as Skarringrove brought his heel down towards the stranger. However inches before the boot hit him a hand shot out and caught it.

"Huh! What the-," Skarringrove cried, and tried to move his foot back, only to find it stuck in the hand's vice-like grip. The stranger stirred slightly, slowly opening his eyelids to show a pair of big, bright green eyes that looked blearily at the roof of the tent. The stranger sat up, yawned, and stretched up with both arms, not seeming to notice how that action lifted Skarringrove into the air as if he were a feather.

"What's all the commotion about?" he asked tiredly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with his free hand without noticing the shocked expression the others wore at his inhuman act of strength. He looked around at his surroundings with half squinted eyes, roaming over the gaping faces of the slaves before eventually coming to rest on Skarringrove, still precariously perched on his hand.

The stunned silence continued as the stranger stared at Skarringrove with a blank expression. Then slowly his face turned into a confused frown.

"What do you think you're doing balancing on top of my hand?" he asked.

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO LIFTED ME UP, YOU IDIOT!" Skarringrove snapped. The act caused him to lose his balance, and Skarringrove fell backwards on to the floor with a girly scream, his foot still caught it the stranger's hand.

"Vice-warden Skarringrove!" the other two guards shouted, grabbing their whips out their belts. "Bastard! What do you think you're doing to the vice-warden!" one of them yelled.

"No no, this is all a misunderstanding," the stranger replied calmly, standing up to let the blankets fall off his body. "See I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when suddenly this guy comes along and tries to balance on my hand."

"DON'T LIE TO US! WE WERE WATCHING DUMBASS!" the other guard shouted. He swiped his hand and sent his whip hurtling towards the strangers face.

Instantly the strangers eyes narrowed, and he moved to the side to let the whip fly past him. He charged at the guards, Skarringrove still in hand, and, with a move as if he was using a baseball bat, swung the Vice-warden at the attacking guard with incredible strength so that their heads connected with a satisfying 'thunk'. The two now unconscious men went flying into the corner of the tent, and as the remaining guard moved to make a strike the stranger twisted round and delivered a powerful sidekick to his face, sending him cartwheeling through the air until he landed on top of the other two men in a messy little pile.

"W-who are you?" 209 asked as the other slaves stared at the fallen guards with an expression of awe.

The stranger turned to face him, his green eyes fully awake and full of excitement. "Who, me?" he replied, a wide, happy smile spreading across his face.

"I'm Gerardo, Gerardo Macbeth. The future king of the pirates."

Woot. Gerardo Macbeth takes the stage. This is the guy who'll be at the heart of all my adventures to come.

Fun Fact: Gerardo loves spicy food, the hotter the better. The horrors this diet has inflicted on his digestive system can only be guessed at.