Hello! I've decided to start another story inspired from stories of my dad's previous experiences with working in factories. I hope you'll enjoy it!

-Desintas

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece

I'd like to thank my friend OhCosmos for beta-ing c: She's fabulous!

Zoro's heated breath expelled, filling up the mask once again. Dust flooded the air, gathering on the ground like heavy snow. The scream of the machine rung in his ears, despite wearing ear plugs and ear muffs over the top. He wriggled his fingers slightly, cramped from holding the machine for so long. He resumed from his short respite, pushing the machine onto the surface of the barbeque grill, smoothing over the jagged residues from the hole punches. Work was slow, laborious and straight up boring. He huffed in exasperation, silently cursing his stupid boss for placing him on this job more than anyone else, mainly because he pissed him off. His boss was a petty and a stuck up asshole.

'Hey Zoro! What are you doing? You've been doing the same grill for half a day already!' a voice warbled in faintly from outside the enclosed room. Zoro grit his teeth, sorely tempted to give his boss the finger but he settled for fixing his fiercest scowl and nodding. This was the last one anyway. He'd be out from this soon. Stay awake he reprimanded himself. Getting lazy within a factory as dangerous because people paid the price with their bodies. It was not rare to see missing joints, fingers or limbs. It was just a split second of recklessness and people were maimed for life. It was dangerous work. He sighed, switching off the machine, being finished with this shift. Zoro waded through the room of dust and took off his gear. He scuffed his hair and slapped his hands together.

'Hey, are you free to work overtime this weekend?' Unfortunately, his stupid boss nabbed him before he could leave the cursed place.

'No.' Zoro could barely restrain himself from snapping and shoving the man aside.

'Not up to make extra cash?' the man sidled up to him, trying to appear menacing and annoying at the same time. 'I'm sure we'll find a nice task for you.'

'No thanks,' Zoro spat out with as little emotion as he could muster and practically half ran outside. If he stayed there any longer then things would have become ugly. He took a deep breath, savouring the cool outside air, grateful for the contrast against the heated factory rooms. He began walking briskly, peering at his watch as it illuminated under the passing lampposts. It was 3:15am. A normal night, or day. Usually at this time, he'd be just about wrapping up too, at the Baratie, a restaurant by day, a club by night. Zeff, the owner, was happy enough for others to manage what they wanted as long as he took care of the food. As a result, the club often had unofficial timetables with the days of the week, give or take a few scrambled changes here and there occasionally. Monday was a night of nice performances, which held little interest to Zoro, however, he heard it was very popular for couples. Tuesday was when then house were wild, as Frank the DJ pumped up his beats. Wednesday were casino nights, where money disappeared within the air. Again, Zoro held little interest to it, as long people like Nami were around. Thursdays were when animal fights and races were held, on the same ground and conditions as the fights. Fridays and Saturdays were the wildest, where Boa Hancock's girls pole danced and strip teased. However, men were forbidden to touch them as Hancock, more commonly referred to as The Goddess, was rumoured to simply hunt them down and turn them into stone. Several statues on display around the club were the apparent victims. Nevertheless, men took the hint and kept their hands away. After all, there were many other girls of choice. To drink and party was an unspoken given. Others travelled to the lower levels of the club, often with unofficial ID and ensuring that their guests would not reveal a word of this afterwards, would watch the fights. Sundays were just a relaxed day, where karaoke and small competitions arouse. Zoro was particularly enthusiastic about drinking and arm-wrestling but otherwise, he'd stay away. The fights. Even now, after he himself had decided to quit, still felt the small spike of high. He maintained the brisk pace but shut his eyes, relishing the moments.

In a smooth movement, he pulled off his shirt and wrapped a bandanna around his head. He drew all three swords, adrenaline pounding through his body. The swords hummed eagerly. Zoro entered the arena, head held high and the crowd roared. He didn't particularly care about showing off but tonight… tonight was special. It was time for the ultimate showdown, where he could fulfil his dreams of becoming the best swordsman in the world. Mihawk… he would defeat him. For sure. It was defeat or death. No other option. Mihawk remained poker faced, almost bored as he surveyed his environment. His yellow eyes settled on Zoro. His eyebrows rose slightly, as if he was faintly amused. Zoro grit his teeth. This was the greatest swordsman.

'Why are you making a spectacle of your foreboding loss?' Mihawk's voice rumbled, snappy. Zoro forced himself to look at his eyes.

'I don't care for crowds. All I need is the fight, no matter the circumstances.'

'For what purpose?'

'To fulfil a dream and a promise to a friend.'

'Hn.' Mihawk shifted slightly. 'It seems nothing will dissuade you. Come.'

'Aren't you going to draw your sword?' Zoro gestured to the huge black sword on his opponent's back.

'I don't need it.' Mihawk didn't even smirk. He stated it simply, like a fact. Zoro growled. Don't you dare look down upon me!

'Oni giri!' he roared and was halted almost immediately. What was he stopped by? Mihawk didn't draw his sword.

A knife. This short stub of a blade. It was about his finger's length.

He wasn't even worth a sword. Sweat started to bead on his forehead. How could the gap be so big?

The next few attacks were a blur, the most uncontrolled, imprecise, emotional attacks he ever launched. He was desperate, like a caught fish thrashing in a net.

'What a crazy fighting style,' Mihawk mused. Zoro didn't care. If there was some way to defeat this guy…

Squelch. An immense pain flared in his chest. He was numb, right where he was.

'Death would be better!' he muttered. It was his loss. He'd rather die than stand back up again with a weight on his chest. Mihawk withdrew the sword, grudgingly impressed.

'As a reward, I'll end your life with this,' and that was when the famous black sword, with its gold hilt and jewels was unsheathed.

'Three sword style secret technique…' Mihawk charged, yellow eyes flashing. 'Three Thousand Worlds!' The clash vibrated Zoro to his very core. His arms tingled. His swords crumbled in his hands, drifting like ash. If he wanted to die, at least he would bear the wound on his front and die honourably. He sheathed his swords and turned, open for the slash.

'Excellent!'

Zoro gasped. His scar twinged. He didn't want to remember but the last fight haunted him to this day. It would never let him rest, slinking at the corners of his mind until it consumed him whole. It dimmed any other hard fought victory, any close brushes with death. He stopped walking. Fighting was strange- it was exhilarating but every time he felt encouraged to go back to that arena, the dread came back. Every time he longed for the high of adrenaline, flashes of memories like these spat in his face what he was truly like. Weak. Uncontrolled. Useless. He shivered slightly and shook his head. Get back home first, he decided. Zoro turned and clubbed straight into something. Funny, since he didn't remember a wall there at all.

'What the fuck? Watch where you're going damn it!' a voice snapped at him. Zoro's eyebrow twitched. He really wasn't in the mood for a smart aleck right now.

'I was just standing here. You should have been watching where you were going. Are you blind?' he growled. Usually, like most people the person would be intimidated and scuttle away. The last thing he expected was for the person to straighten up to his full height and attempt to intimidate him.

'Shut up! Why were you standing there anyway? It's a bloody 3 o'clock in the morning and you expect me to believe you were innocently standing here? For what? A nice morning walk?' the figure snapped sarcastically. From the dim light, Zoro could make out features of blonde hair and maybe some sort of fancy suit. He tutted.

'I was back from a work shift. I'd kill to sleep at this hour.' The figure relaxed a little.

'Well, yeah. I'm not used to it but I'd kill too.' A short silence lapsed between them. The figure shrugged a little awkwardly. 'Well… sorry about that. I'm grouchy from work. I had to take a few more shifts because some fuckers didn't show up and plus I wasn't expecting anyone alive at this time anyways.' He offered a hand. Zoro heaved a sigh.

'Whatever. No hard feelings.' He shook hands with the stranger, noting the odd callouses and vague indication of small scars on the other's hand. 'I need to get going. Dead tired.' He raised a hand of farewell as he resumed walking.

'Sure.'

Thanks for reading! I'll try to update soon!