It was raining.
The downpour fell all over the exhausted man lying on the wet pavement, if you could call it that way. The sand and the water mixed and created a disagreeable mixture under him, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing, in fact, mattered anymore. He didn't matter anymore.
He could hear some voices in the distance, but didn't understand a word. A pair of cold seastone handcuffs touched his skin. But the rain was way colder. It penetrated his skin and he could feel the freezing sensation through his bones. He didn't remember this sensation. He had been avoiding rain for too many years and now it had come back to bother him. To chase him.
To punish him.
Though he didn't care for any punishment. He had lost. Lost the battle. Lost his dream. Lost his future. Lost his way. Maybe he lost it long ago. He couldn't remember. He didn't care anymore for anything. Not even himself.
The way to the marine ship felt short. It wasn't, but it felt so. People gathered around to see their once hero being taken by the marines. They watched every step he made. His shoes got covered in mud with every step. The mud was soft and his foot sank in it.
He walked the harbor pavement, went into the dock, up the gangway and into the Marine ship.
As he stepped on the main deck he could feel the sea moving under his feet. Waving slowly, up and down. He felt the sea breeze on his face. He had been avoiding the sea too. No. He had found his dream in Alabasta, hadn't he? Utopia. Pluton. Utopia. Pluton was his dream all along, wasn't it?
It didn't take too long to arrive to the Marine House of Detention. It wasn't their final destination. He knew where they were heading. He didn't fear it. He would have gladly accepted death. It didn't matter anymore. He didn't matter anymore.
He could sense someone in the jail. By his side. His eyes were opened, but he didn't care to see a thing. He moved his head around. He closed his eyes and opened them again. A man pushed his luck and got knock down by another one on the cell.
The sun rays entered the room through the window. The tiny hole was high on the wall, so the sun rays could leak but the prisoners couldn't see what was going on on the other side. But they could hear. The remorse of the sea announced the arrival of another ship.
Silence.
Then footsteps running across the corridor. Footsteps running across the dock. He turned his head to the door. It opened and some figures entered the room. He grasped some words, but he wasn't listening. Safe. Ship. Escape. World. Baroque Works. None of these words sounded familiar. He could glimpse some figures standing up by his side. He didn't make a move. He was staying. He stayed. He could grasp more words. Please. Escape. Together. He stayed. He didn't feel like it.
There was an explosion.
Then silence. They were gone. At last. He was alone, like always. Alone. Like he had always been. Alone, but yet there was someone by his side. There was another figure in the room. A man.
He turned his head for the third time to see this man. Why was he there? Not that he cared, anyway. But why. He was standing there, on his feet, looking towards the horizon through the now broken wall. If he had stayed he must have had a good reason. Like him. Maybe his dream had come to an end just like his own.
He lighted a cigar. He may have not escaped, but he wouldn't refuse a cigar. His last cigar.
Suddenly a rainbow crossed the room and their clothes changed. The black attire and the hat suited him well, though he didn't think so. He looked at the other man, who was watching him with an inexpressive gaze and was now wearing a strange outfit. The dark-haired man frowned, let out a grunt and turned his head away. He didn't want to be seen in such a disguise. It had been long since the last time he thought about it. Too much to remember it now.
Pirate king.
It still sounded ridiculous.
He watched the other man and thought he grasped a slight grin on the other's lips, but it soon vanished. Yes, he was sure he looked far more ridiculous than the superhero beside him.
Some marines entered what was left of the room and approached them cautiously, but the two men didn't make a move against them. They were moved to another room and soon new company arrived. Two bodies were thrown into the jail, with a rattling noise of chains. They seemed dead, but it wasn't his lucky day. Fortunately, they couldn't articulate a word aside from their pitiful sounds and their exhausted breathing.
xXx
A few days later some marines entered the room to take them to their next and final destination. The two new individuals were lousy, nothing compared to the third man. He was quiet and inexpressive, with a demeanor suitable for a good fighter, for a good pirate. Such a shame he would have to waste his time imprisoned.
The waters were extremely calm. He closed his eyes and smiled. He couldn't hear a thing aside of the two man mumbling. Time passed by quickly until they arrived to the well-known prison: the impenetrable fortress of Impel Down.
Once in it, the boiling pot was waiting. He dipped into it, naked. The boiling water was not a problem for him. He didn't even frown when the water burned his skin. On the other hand, he couldn't stand showing his scars. Each one of them showed a defeat, a weakness. Though he had gone over all of them, he didn't like it when others got to see them. Specially his hand. He could remember everything that happened vividly. That was his worst scar, even worse than the one on his face.
The water made his body go numb. He could hear the screams of the new prisoners resounding on the walls. It was like a lullaby. He had tasted hell before and he was sure that place wasn't like it. It was a soft breeze compared to what he had tasted in the New World.
Later they were taken to the elevator. One by one they were left in each floor. Two, three, four… he laughed. He chose well the numbers. Their order. After a long while they finally reached the unknown sixth level.
The atmosphere was unbreathable. Bodies emanating blood and sweat created a thick air. He let out a snort of disgust. He was taken to his cell. It was full of prisoners. Some of them were surprised to see him there, others only looked at him and the rest were so tired they couldn't even lift their heads or were just dead.
Time passed slowly. He didn't know how many days had past, or years. He was starting to be fed up of that blue place. Every day the same routine. You yell, you pay. Not that there were a lot of prisoners able to do so, but there was always at least one with the desire to die and leave that place.
One day, he heard a familiar voice. At first he didn't recognise it but then he knew. It was a deep voice shouting meaningless words about a war and… an interesting name. Another voice took part in the conversation. He sure didn't know this one, but the conversation was interesting.
Hearing the silly words he couldn't do anything but laugh and interfere, they were just two fools talking about freedom! Freedom! They were tied to strong stone walls and they weren't going out so easily. Why lose their time talking about a world they weren't going to see anymore?
Amidst the discussion, a group of people entered the level. A woman was there. He knew her. Why was she there? That day was turning out to be a bit strange. She went past his jail and stopped before the one occupied by the two men he was talking with just a while ago.
Suddenly a fetid smell infested all the level between screams of panic. It was always that way with the chief warden. Lousy people really sickened him.
When the smell disappeared, the group was no longer there. The warden returned later to take out the boy imprisoned with the fishman. He was silent and didn't make any move against his captors. They soon vanished from the sixth floor and the silence flooded the space again.
Some minutes later, he could hear another familiar voice calling the name of the man they had taken. Given the state of things, he thought it was the perfect situation to escape, now that things were interesting outside, which gave him a good reason to leave that boring place.
He called the man out. He wasn't easy to convince, but fortunately—or maybe that wasn't the right word to use—he was with an old acquaintance who knew it was better to take him with them.
What a relief to feel decent clothes again touching his skin. The lack of style he had had to suffer during his imprisonment was the worst punishment.
Though they were still inside the prison, he could feel free again. Regaining his powers brought back his memories of the old days and he was anxious to let his sleeping powers unleash again. A tingle of excitement spread through his bones. The sand was perfectly dry again.
He headed to the third floor with the keys rattling in his hand. After all, he kept thinking it was a shame to have that One man imprisoned. He threw the keys into the jail and made him a proposal he just couldn't deny.