Gossamer

The train shook violently on its track. The rattling and screeching pounded in his ears, and the man lowered his head as to cover his eyes with his leopard spotted winter cap. Outside, a light snow was falling, each flake landing onto the ground softly, tenderly. Slowly his eyes shut, and the man exhaled, his ordeal to be heard by no one. The compartment was crowded with voices that resonated inside the walls of his mind. To the right, two girls were in a heated conversation about their college crushes. To the left, a group of men chattered noisily about the latest sports news. The man's whisper was inaudible compared to the voices of everyone else. 10...9...8...a group of drinking buddies entered with a drunken dance when the train came to a halt...7...6...5...4...the wheels began to screech again on its tracks, accompanied with the squeal of a group of young females...3...2...1...the train sped up around a bend...a last breath..."Zero."

In an instant, the head of the train exploded into a vicious fire, bits of metal flying into the air. The rest of the train exploded in chain reaction quickly, and the swaying wheels swerved on its tracks, emitting a most deafening screech. The many weak and fragile hearts of the passengers, the hearts of the people with families, friends, and lovers, were all torn from their bodies in that passing second. There were no screams, no cries that made it in time before it was all over. As the train fell onto its side, burnt bodies and torn limbs flew to the side, crushing against the wall that was quickly paralleling itself to the ground next to the tracks. Glass shattered and blood rained down from the sleeping carriage in the snow.

When the wreckage finally calmed and the shards of train came to a rest against pillows of cold snow, the man climbed through a window outside of the broken, burning train, unaffected by the explosion. He looked at the blood-splattered, ignited masterpiece of slowly melting metal, flames, and incinerating bodies in the snow. The red snow. "So beautiful..." The world around him was silent. To think that in a mere second, so many hearts were broken, and so many loved ones were lost. The passing idea put a calm smile on the man's lips, and he chuckled. He slowly turned around, and trudged away in the snow.

Fire. His hair was a bright, fiery red. The days that Eustass Kid roamed the streets of Saboady were days that the flames of his crown caught sunlight and brought light to the shadows of the streets. There was no one in the city who did not know the name of the wretched man, down to the last crying babe in its cradle. To them, he was the monster that came by night to scare them when they were awake. To others, he was the scum of the earth, and to the rest he was a rich pig. But no matter how much people insulted and dirtied his name, no one would dare to say it to his face. They were all silently waiting for the time when Eustass's glory would end and they themselves could rise higher in his place. That day came.

Tubes, needles, and other instruments were inserted into the man's body, penetrating his chalk pale skin. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving in a regular metronomic motion. He appeared to be peaceful in his sleep, despite the charts that indicated the threads of existence he was hanging onto. The room was dark, and the only bit of light seeped in from the cracks around the door. All around him, there was a dense silence, cut only by the faint beeping of his heartbeat's measurements on the machine beside him. Eustass Kid didn't have any visitors, and it was a secret to no one that he never would. Kid was a lone wolf. His parents, owners of the billionaire company, Machine Enhancement and Co., which is now the Kid Works, had been assassinated when he was in his teens. He never had any siblings to look up to, or to take care of, and the only people he ever conversed with were his costumers, or the douches he beat up. Few people of the city still remember when Kid was a happy, kind child who cared for others more than anything else. When his mom and dad were killed off, and he was left alone, Kid had decided to close his doors to the world.

Everything changed for Kid on that day. In the back of his mind was etched the image: Mom, Dad, sprawled on the floor, and the blood paintings on the walls. They had been stabbed numerous times. But the assassin remained a blur in the picture - who was it that was holding the dripping red knife? The people of the city would speculate that it had been Eustass that had done it, just to get his hands on their money. Although he was aware that it was all just hearsay, he was unable to prove himself to others - he was the only one who knew. Even if he tried to convince them, they would push it aside, unwilling to trust the words of a suspect. Because of these rumors, Kid was still allowed to take on his parents' company, but his business was restricted by the government. However, instead of reassuring him, the monitoring only reminded him so much of that image in the back of his mind.

At night, Kid would dream happily of the times he had with his parents, but all too soon, it would become a nightmare. And back came the picture of the two, splattered onto the floor like human artwork, there in front of him. That night in the hospital, he again had this dream, and in the morning when the sunshine shone through the curtains onto his body, his face gleamed with dried out tears, plastered onto his cold cheeks. To the world, Eustass Kid was the symbol of bravery, gore, and coldness in the heart. But when he was alone, Eustass Kid was just another boy who couldn't let go of the past.

Kid's injuries were frightening - he had lost his right arm to the explosion, many of his bones were cracked, and his heart was seriously malfunctioning. The doctors were unsure as to whether or not Eustass would wake up from this long dormant coma at all. Of course, if he did awake, money for the surgery would not be a problem. However, there would be no one who rejoiced his living, no one to hug him and cry for him, no one for him to hold onto. And there was no "home" he could return to. Kid was just a shadow of his old self.

The man shook the snow off his leather boots, and stepped into the apartment. As he took in the air, trying to warm himself from the long trudge, a second man carefully tread out from behind a wall and into the foyer, carrying a menacing gun. But as soon as he saw who it was at the door, he tucked the gun back into its holder behind him.

"Oh, it's you, Law. How did it go?"

"Perfect," Law replied, recalling the beautiful, chilling red snow. His deep monotonic whisper oozed out of his lips like a honey waterfall. "The scene was flawless...You should have been there with me, Penguin."

"Typical of you, but sorry, I'm not very interested in manslaughter." Penguin chirped in his bouncy, bird-like voice. "Bepo will be furious with you when he finds out that you've gone and done it again."

"Pity."

"Would you like some coffee?"

Law sighed with a hint of exhausted laughter as he removed his black trench coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door. "Only you would ask the obvious..."

A few miles away, in a neighboring city to Saboady, was Dressrosa. The large business district that was manipulated by the cunning hands of a man named Don Quixote Doflamingo. He was a sick and twisted man, who cared for nothing other than money, sex, fame, and women. Downtown in the center of the city lights was his enormous strip club, the Pink, and at night when the street lamps flickered on and the shadows of Dressrosa came to life, Pink's doors opened to welcome filth and scum alike, closing at the next sight of day with cash to bathe in.

Outside of his business, Doflamingo was a man of secrets. Nobody knew which vein of underground work he trickled in, but one thing was for sure - he didn't disappear from the city months on end just to retire into his estate. And it just so happened that the man was on yet another of his adventures today, up and about to who knows where. During his outings, the Pink was managed by another man. Doflamingo's underdog. Even more mysterious than his owner, he was the dark shadow that was often ignored. You could say he made up for Don's flamboyancy.

The afternoon was windy, the kind of calm serene wind that was crisp and gave everyone chills. The smell of winter hung light in the air. Christmas lights were already strung up in the late November sky, and the trees were bare, and blanketed with snow. Despite the kind and soft scene that nature made that day, Doflamingo was still, as usual, furious. He was caught in a long traffic jam in the city. Apparently a major explosion on a nearby train had caused a bit of an earthquake, knocking over several cars and killing 3 civilians. A female spokesperson on the radio was explaining casualties at the scene. He wasn't listening, though - he was too busy punching his car horn and screaming at the cars in front of him. In five minutes, his presence would be needed elsewhere. After his spur of shrieking, to no avail, of course, Doflamingo hastily swerved his car around and sped forward on the shoulder, deciding he had had enough of waiting. The tires of his sleek, sexy pink car disrupted the peaceful lumps of snow on the curb, leaving ugly tracks and hints of flattened grass. Doflamingo, obviously, could care less. As he raced past the cars waiting in line, he venomously spewed some choice words, and flipped several birds up out the window at gaping drivers. Raging through the streets, Doflamingo flung his small car into park on the drive way of a shabby, ivy covered apartment. He tore out of his seat, slammed the door, and ran to the entrance of the building with the pink feathers of his shawl billowing lightly behind him. Past the surprised lobby man and towards the nearest elevator, he punched the up arrow several times.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Jesus just hurry up!" It was too long to wait. Something between anticipation and excitement filled up around his throat and crawled over his skin as Doflamingo left the elevator and stomped up the stairs to level three, chest heaving. He entered the third floor and ran through the hallways, his heavy footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. He stopped in front of room 314, and wasted no time to bang on the front door. His mind was racing. He better not have messed up again...

Eustass was drowning. As he lay in his scratchy, uncomfortable hospital gown, and the equally bad cot, the gears in the back of his brain were turning rapidly. Kid's head had been immersed in a deep pool of water. The liquid was fresh - so fresh that it froze him inside. He held his breath and shut his eyes tightly, clenching his ice-block jaws. Don't breathe...Take one whiff and you're dead, Eustass. He fought and battled with the hand holding his head in the water, trashing his arms and legs. However, unable to break from an iron grip, Eustass gave in and let himself relax into the pool, releasing the tension in his muscles. So this is where it ends...A bright red haze grew in his closed lids, and he felt himself slipping away...In Kid's mind played a song he once knew from his childhood, a familiar, somewhat happy tune, but carrying the hurt from his past.

Upon a hill across the blue lake

That's where I had my first heartbreak

I still remember how it all

Changes

My father said

Don't you worry don't you worry child

See heaven's got a plan for you

Don't you worry don't you worry child

Yeah

Drowned in the water, a tear escaped from Eustass' eye, a single drop in the ocean behind those pale, fluttering lids. He grabbed on to the only life he had remaining. His past.

His cup was stripped of its contents long ago - no coffee could last long in the hands of Trafalgar Law. Penguin's cup was still full and steaming. Instead of being used as a beverage, as it's supposed to be, he opted to have himself a hand warmer in the chilling weather. The two were having light talk - they both knew the business was bound to come in, but they savored the innocence for as long as they could. As the conversation progressed, Law wondered if he acted this way because he longed for the ignorance he once had. Pretending was all he could do now. Suddenly, as though purposely disrupting his thoughts, he heard pounding in the corridors. The loud thumps grew, quickly moving toward the two. For a moment there was silence, but was soon replaced by impatient rapping at the door. Law pushed away from the table, and got out of his chair quietly.

"Please excuse me, Penguin." He smiled.

Oh shit...Penguin sighed to himself as he watched Law's back. Trafalgar was an unpredictable person. Usually he is smiling a cool, collected smile, but it doesn't really mean anything - it's just a mask. he knew that Law had been through way too much to ever smile sincerely again. He could be like that on the outside, but inside, you never know. Raging, sad, surprised, no one will ever be able to tell. It would probably be easier to interpret a fucking pineapple. But there is one thing that can put a mark his mood. The more of a smile is on his face, the farther you want to be from him.

Trafalgar was moving at an easy gait towards the pounding at the door. Slow was bad. He had a few more steps to the door...As soon as Law opened the door and laid eyes on the man standing there, he roared.

"DOFLAMINGO!"

Law pulled back his arm, fisted his hand, and swung viciously up and into the visitor's stomach, just below the ribcage. With a revolting crack, the man keeled over and vomited over the floor, gasping.

"You uncivilized wrench. We are working undercover, get that into your thick skull of a head."

Having been born and raised in a family of esteemed doctors who molded him into a well known prodigy, Law knew the exact places to hit a human body that would cause the most damage. He knew how to keep someone alive through extensive torture and pain. And he smiled through the whole thing. "Law..." The taller man's voice was but a strained whisper, but dangerous and venomous all the same. Penguin, who was still sitting at the table, uttered a mere, "Don't kill him." He wasn't sure which man he had addressed the complaint to.

"You shut up, Penguin, we both know I've dealt much too long with this pathetic excuse for a human."

A flash of pink. In a loud thud against hollow wood, Law's body was pinned against the opposite corridor wall, his throat clenched by the other man's hand. Watching calmly from inside, Penguin didn't miss the short flash of hatred on the edges of Law's eyes that had somehow made it through his mask. He quickly resided back into his smug smile. Penguin looked blankly down at his untouched coffee, unsurprised by the commotion that was erupting outside. It had happened too many times for the things between Law and his master to bother him anymore, so he settled into the routine of waiting quietly for its end. It would be all over soon.

"Hmm...I'd think you knew better, Law. How could my adorable pet turn into this?" He wiped his mouth with his left hand to smear off the bile. "You surprised me there. Try it again...?" Doflamingo's grip on Law's neck tightened, and he coughed into the air.

I think you can wipe that stupid grin off your face, too, or I'll do it for you, motherfucker.

"Let go of me." Trafalgar was back into his calm act, despite the cracking in his voice. Two tattooed arms shot up and grabbed the other man's prized furry jacket, pulling him closer. "Let go of me, Doflamingo."

Doflamingo reached in closer, his lips brushing against the other man's turned cheek. "Closing the gap now, are we?" he purred, "How cute. Remember your place...Law..." Doflamingo hissed into the nape of his neck, goose bumps rising where his lips ghosted.

"Not now. It's not the time for that," Penguin was suddenly behind the two in the doorway, interrupting them, soberly. "We have other matters to discuss."

"Oh, right." Doflamingo cackled under his breath, twisting his neck to glare at the bird behind him. "Our talk should be elsewhere. May I go in?" He slowly released his grip on Law's neck, and without waiting for permission, stalked into the apartment room.

Law slid incrementally down the wall onto his feet, cleaning imaginary dust off his jeans.

"You okay?" Penguin asked, staring worriedly at the red marks on Law's throat.

"Yeah." Law responded as he rubbed his neck. He left the corridor and Penguin followed. As they made their way to the table, Penguin smiled to himself as he looked affectionately at Law's strong back. A man of little words and hidden lies. Who will be the one to open his heart?

Ever since they were children, they had been together. Law, Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi. They were the best of friends - it seemed that no one could separate them. Although Trafalgar didn't like to speak much, his friends understood that and accepted it for his shyness. Together, the four of them went to elementary school, middle school, and high school and remained close throughout the long years, holding each other up like pillars. They cried together, laughed together, and shared the secrets of their lives together. Life for them was the normal life of any group of teenagers.

However, the time came when they had to separate for college. Bepo and Shachi, not the brightest of all stars, were falling behind in grades and chose to stay out of it and any schooling, for that matter, for good. Shachi found work doing odd jobs in the city, and Bepo took after their family dojo, giving lessons and eventually becoming the headmaster after his parents passed away. As much as Penguin wanted to stay behind and live the easy life with his two friends, he decided still to follow Law through to the end of his education. The two of them went to college together, Law studying to be a surgeon, and Penguin majoring in Fine Arts. Every night, they would return home to their shared apartment with Shachi and Bepo, and throughout the four years of college, the friends stayed as close as ever before.

When it came time for Law to graduate to Med school, the little money the four friends had saved from living together was not nearly enough to make payment for its expenses. Despite Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin's protests, Law found an easy way to make money - for the year before graduation and the summer after, the young man prostituted himself. Every weekend, Law would wait around the corner of the alley behind the apartment for clients. Penguin worried deeply for his friend's health, but no matter how much he tried to attempt Law otherwise, he would not stop himself. Each time he mentioned the risks and the damage done to Law's body, a look would come over his eyes that slightly resembled the hard mask he has on today. The aspiring surgeon would do anything to become the man that could save lives on the operating table. Penguin wondered if that was the time when Trafalgar began to lose his meaning of love and his treasuring of life. It was funny how his fight for a purpose so pure could turn him around to shut his eyes on the light. Sure, Penguin knew that somewhere in Law remembered his own dreams and the way he used to laugh and openly love as a child, but that part of him was so far hidden that even Penguin could barely see it anymore.

Once again seated at the table in front of his cold coffee, Penguin looked warily across the table at Law, who was speaking calmly with Doflamingo, and likely didn't notice his friend's longing eyes on him. Penguin remembered the Law that had valued his friends more than anything, and the Law that's smile was genuine. He searched Law's eyes now for a sign, any sign at all, that would tell him that his friend still somewhat cared for him, but gave in when he saw nothing. What exactly did Penguin mean to Trafalgar now?

Penguin suddenly jolted from his stupor when he heard his name called from the surface.

"Penguin?" Law said, "Penguin, you alright?"

Penguin gave a shaky breath and looked up, plastering a cheerful smile on for his friend. "Yeah. What is it, Law?"

"Turn on the TV for the news. Doflamingo-ya wants the cover story." There was no love in Law's voice for him.

Penguin turned quickly to hide his disappointment, heading into the living room behind their table as Law and Doflamingo followed. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much, the way Law spoke to him. It wasn't like he had heard him speak in any other way for years, but the realization that Penguin was probably left no more space in his friend's small heart hit him right in the gut. When had it all changed so much? How had things gotten so bad?

Crossing the crudely furnished living room to the widescreen plasma TV, Penguin grabbed the remote from a nearby shelf, and snapped the channels on to the news coverage. As expected, the explosion in Saboady was in breaking news all around the world, and as an at-the-scene depiction of the shattered train blared on the screen, Penguin situated himself next to Law on the tattered couch opposite. Instead of focusing on the news, the lonely feeling that suddenly fell upon Penguin gathered around his eyes, and he stared at Law's folded hands upon his crossed legs. For the first time in years, the bird wished deeply that somehow, things had not turned out this way.

The images flashed behind Penguin's eyes, and the world around him disappeared. All he could see was Law and the years that had hardened his friend's heart. Law, beaten and bloody in Doflamingo's office. Law, gone for months and returning home with slashes on his back and drenched in dried blood. Law, walking further and further away. To Doflamingo. Doflamingo. It was all because of Doflamingo...

Penguin looked up from his daydreaming, staring hatefully at the towering man standing to Law and his left, suddenly wanting so badly that his eyes could actually bore holes in the despicable man's skin, and wash his presence away from the world, away from Law's past. Penguin had always hated Doflamingo, but never had he been so aware. The sight of those ruffling pink feathers on Doflamingo's shawl, and the way he smiled that superior smirk, made Penguin want to reach out to Law, and hold him safe. Yes, it was all because of Doflamingo that Law was no longer his, nor anybody's. He wanted to grab Doflamingo by his collar and say things and do things to him that would make him wish he were better off dead. Those pink feathers had taken everything from him. But he could do none of it, not the way he was now. He was still weak, and Penguin hated himself for having to be protected by everyone else. Law...The bird longed with solemn eyes his friend's face to his left. He studied the familiar dark eyes and its shadowed lids, the mountainous landscape of the nose, the crooked smile. It was like every part of Law was there, but not quite. The man that sat next to Penguin was almost a different person entirely. Law...Someday...I will bring you back here, to who you were before. I will kill Doflamingo for you. I will wash away the pain of your past...

The world stared gapingly at the news on their screens. In the shadows of the large, minimally furnished garage, three standing men and one sitting woman watched the lady with orange hair announce the casualties on the scene. The woman snickered, crossing her legs and resting her head on her hand, her bangs and raven purple hair curtaining her beautiful face. One man beside her, his arms folded across his chest, spoke softly with a low voice, "They're at it again."

A shorter boy next to him murmured his agreement with an unexpectedly sweet voice, running his hands through the first man's short green hair.

The third man took a drag from his red before speaking with a bored tone, "He will be fine."

"Who was on him this time," The boy pressed his body against the man's muscular arm, talking only to him. "Zoro?"

"Nami," Zoro looked down to his boy, "Tracked the train. She didn't do that good of a job though,"

"He will be in a coma for quite a while," The woman said the words with a monotone, nasal voice, "I suspect they will resort to torture once he has awaken."

The news reporter smiled happily as she described the bloody massacre behind her.

"Interesting. Since when has she been a reporter?"

"There was probably information about him in the feed that the assigned reporter would have accidentally mentioned."

The boy hummed cheerfully, "Then we would have to kill that reporter, wouldn't we?"

Zoro nodded.

"At least this way, we may be able to convince them for a while that their objective is dead."

"How long is the question. They are not so stupid as to not know something like this would happen."

"True...That Nami, she has not quite lost her heart yet, to save someone so trivial like that. I worry that it will someday hurt her." A drag.

"No...She simply does not like to clean up dead bodies."