A/N: This is LadyPancake, author of A Grand Old Time. It's been a few months (pretty sure that's an understatement tho XD) since I was last on Fanfiction, but here I am, with another rabid plot bunny spread for my ravenous and 98% anonymous readers.

This has some HEAVY language in it- a whole slew of fucks and shits and hoes and cunt trucks- so if you're easily offended, I don't really care. There will be a sex scene which will be hot *ayyyy inside joke /(^0^)/* but if I'm motivated to continue this story until it gets to that point, I'll make sure to deliver.

I don't own One Piece. Eiichiro Oda-sensei-sama-senpai does, so kudos to him.

"Fuck me up the ass!" I shrieked none too softly as I felt one of my ribs cave in, courtesy of the boulder that the other man hurled at me. My eyes narrow and on as if on cue, a line of salt hardens into a spike and drives it's way into the rock, effectively pushing it away from me with a deafening crack as I struggled to breathe. Covering the pulsing wound with a well-lacerated arm, I kicked myself sideways, narrowly avoiding a foot that may have very well caved my skull in. The heel slammed into the ground, making cracks spiderweb out from beneath his poised food before caving inwards, an explosion of debris and shattered stone tears through the air, charging it with an ungodly amount of tension.

This guy was a goddamn monster. Definitely on a whole new level from the others.

With bared teeth, a rush of salt barreled towards my opponent and encased him quickly, leaving nothing but his head peaking out. Clenching my fist, I lifted my arm up and snapped it down, as if I was throwing a rag doll against the ground. The salt reciprocated, dispersing at the last moment to let him take the full brunt of the hit.

The thunk of unyielding flesh splitting open on cold stone, the splat of blood paints the surrounding surface with an oozing, metallic red. His body breaks in a hundred different ways; flimsy limbs bent at unnatural angles with bleach white bone poking out of tan skin, rocks embedded deep into the side of his shattered face, one of his eyeballs completely obliterated while the other is dangling free- he looked like he came straight out of a cheesy horror flick. It was a sight that made you sick and weirdly amazed at the same time. I turn away from the mess and wheezing painfully, groan as I fall into a slow crouch, not really trusting myself to sit down and pass out for a few hours again (though it did sound like a good idea)

The salt encases the crumpled ooze of skin and bone, crushing him into an unidentifiable goop and depositing it over the edge of the island, which was conveniently a couple of meters away from the vegetation-less outcrop of an island. "Let the fishes 'ave 'em" I drawl, more to myself than to the sentient mass of salt, watching as the ocean broke him apart in little pieces

Personally, I didn't know the guy, and I knew he didn't know me either. But for the sake of achieving our 'pieces', we ended up brawling. Of course, this piece was more metaphorical than physical. Every time you beat a 'player', you got a piece of your memory back. Sometimes it told you nothing and other times, you get a scrap of info that you could add to your ever-growing list of "who the fuck am I?"

There were three hundred players in the beginning; they had lives and jobs and probably families they wanted to get back to- three hundred completely ordinary people swept clean of everything they remembered and given only one instruction: acquire all your 'pieces'

"You win, you get to control what happens next. You become the one-" The aging woman pauses to gesture upwards with her chin and eyes - "one of them." Her audience all looked at her with speculation- all except the youngest, who looked on with childish curiosity. "That's bull, Grams" A chestnut-eyed teen scoffed, kicking his feet back against a nearby log and leaning against their smallest. He strained to shove the heavier boy away with little success, giving up after another prod and instead scolded the other for his rudeness with a slight flush on his puffy cheeks-

I blinked once, the hazy sheen over my eyes fading as I was brought to full consciousness again. I let loose a small breath that was unintentionally kept in before hissing out a low "fuck". I clenched my teeth in frustration as I tried to make some sense in my jumbled mind.

So, apparently the game didn't discriminate in choosing its players, huh? The group I was with had no wrinkly people or middle-schoolers- the youngest definitely older than the kid I just saw (by at least a few years). I had a speculation that we were all divided before the reaping started judging from where the group in the flashback was, and this confirmed it. I could only make out jagged stone walls and uneven ground- a cave?

I stand up slowly, wincing at the creak of limbs and the pins and needles poking at my numbing legs from crouching for so long. The thought of kids, forced to play this fucked up game; probably running for their life because of those who didn't give a shit about morals and just wanted an easy piece- I felt a bubble of anger snarl deep within my gut, tendrils of salt agitatedly snapping around me with the low rustle of millions of grains rubbing against each other providing background noise.

It was irrational for me to get angry. It wasn't like I could help them anyways.

They were probably already dead.

A/N:

Get the blood flowing with a little fight scene, huh?

Updates will definitely be infrequent because of my schedule, but whenever inspiration strikes, I'll give you what I got.

My fuck-ass brother is a cunt and because murder is illegal, he will be portrayed as an antagonist later on in the story.