Disclaimer: I do not own Jackie Chan Adventures or One Piece.

Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant


"A good way to get a decent person to do something horrible is to convince them that they're not responsible for their actions."

— Nero, The Order of the Stick by Rich Burlew

Chapter 2

A Million Experience

Getting back up as the deck moved under her, Jade contemplated how this was unlike any training she had done before. Namely, the fact that Mr. Nine was a terrible teacher.

She had started out exhausted, and the pain from the piercing helped keep her from getting to sleep after her long day. She had been tempted to ignore him on getting her ears pierced, but had decided not doing so might be seen as disobeying him and make things worse, and more importantly it could be mistaken as fear. Still, she felt the doc had botched it!

And now she was on deck before the general morning call, getting knocked around by the swordsman.

His only concession to this being training seemed to be using the dull edge of his sword on her. Which meant she was already pretty bruised up in addition to what was still healing from those super geese.

She had to attack him or he would come after her worse. And he did not correct her form or offer any tips. She was starting to think this was just training for him with her as a living training dummy.

Her attempt to slip under his guard was awarded with a knee to her chin, cutting off further thoughts.

Lying on her back, cradling her throbbing chin, Jade heard him walk to stand over her.

"That's enough for today. Wish you'd taken the knife when offered?" he asked. Jade shook her head.

"Huh, let me guess — some Kano arrogance for relying on your fists and body, etc? You need pride to stay sane on these waters, but fool's pride will only sink you faster. But I suppose a chore girl can afford to be foolish, for now. Be up at the same time tomorrow; it's time you learned a bit about Baroque Works," he said, dropping a wet towel onto her throbbing face.

"Oh, and get to work," he commanded as an afterthought.

X X X

That night after dinner, he called her into his cabin for a chat. She stood while he looked down at her, illuminated somewhat menacingly by a single lamp as he began to fulfill his promise to explain some things to her.

"Baroque Works is a crime syndicate based on the oceans. You don't need to know much at your rank, so listen well because I don't intend to repeat it. The organization is run by the Agency, and those designated as agents rule over the organization. The lower your number, the higher the rank. And each male agent has a woman partner who is named for a day."

"So number 1 is the boss?" Jade asked.

"No, the Boss is Mr. Zero," Nine said with a grin.

Jade had to admit that that was a badass villain name.

"Baroque Works has three laws that must be obeyed — serve the boss, serve the organization, and reveal nothing. Mystery is our creed; the fewer that know we exist the stronger we are. The Marines and Cipher Pol can chase after the pirates, the mafia, and the terrorists, never even noticing us. And their targets don't see us and target competition. As such, anyone that talks to anyone on Baroque Works matters is marked for death."

"Got it," Jade said, giving an 'okay' hand sign. It wasn't that surprising. Though it looked like Nine had expected her to be more impacted by a death threat.

"To serve the organization means both to protect and further Baroque Works' interests, and respect the chain of command. Anyone of higher rank is to be obeyed like they were a king. The exception being that orders from still higher take precedent. That can include being ordered to turn on your immediate superiors. Finally, we serve the Boss. If the Numbers are kings, think of the Boss as a god. He is not to be questioned, only obeyed. You rise at his desire, and you can be destroyed at his whim. His commands hold priority over everything. If he orders you to blow up a base and any fellow Baroque Works members are inside, you don't ask why. If he orders you to steal the shoes off a Celestial Dragon's feet, the only question you ponder is how?

"Moving on, the Agency is divided into two pieces. The Frontier, and the Offices. The Frontier is overseen by the Frontier Agents, those numbered 6 and higher, and their partners. Their task is to maintain and expand Baroque Works. Even Numbers primarily oversee ongoing operations, while odds carry out missions mainly. The Frontier Agents are served by the Millions, like you. Five and higher are served by the Billions. These elite Officer Agents serve at the highest level and are privy to secrets that are insulated from the Frontier. Odds are you will never get even close to the secrets and need to knows of the Office. You'll likely only see anyone of that high rank if they are on punishment detail.

"We are presently on our way to a Baroque Works base to report and supply for wherever my new orders take behavior so far has been adequate; keep it that way. Dismissed," he said with a wave of his hand.

X X X

Jade's first impression of Whiskey Peak was simple.

"Those are some big cactuses," she said, looking over the railing with scrub brush in hand.

"It's cacti, and those aren't. It's just mountains that look like that," one of the crew said, walking by. Jade raised an eyebrow at that, then squinted at the approaching island. That explanation was even weirder than big cactuses.

Whiskey Peak looked to be a somewhat arid island. The town nestled up river, but in sight of the coast, had a pueblo mud brick look to it. Right down to several buildings looking to have ladders set up as outdoor staircases. The port wasn't much in stock, only a few fishing boats bobbed at the wharf, but it looked like the pier could house far larger ships than this galleon.

There was no grand reception waiting for them, even with the town looking somewhat busy with daytime activity. But they were not unexpected, Jade noted, avoiding being caught up in the ship being tied off. Two figures awaited at the end of the docks. And from the way the captain looked at them, she'd guess the were important.

The man was fat and wearing a dark suit with one of those cowboy ties, and a red sash with a silver medal on it. Along with his white hair, she guessed that he was in charge. The woman was a nun, or at least dressed like one. She was taller than her companion, and skinny even with the robes on, with a lined face set in a frown, accented by bright red lipstick on her pale complexion.

Jade was shoved aside as Bilton hurried by, following the captain as the man went down the gangplank. She watched them both reach the pier, feeling something off.

"You wanted to speak with me, captain?" Bilton asked.

"No," Nine said, drawing his sword. Jade closed her eyes, but heard it well enough.

"You always bring messes to my town," the old man growled, walking down the dock.

"He does, and this isn't his ship either. Dare I ask if you have the cargo?" the old nun said.

"Mr. Eight, Miss Monday. I wish to compose a report for the boss," Mr. Nine said respectfully.

"Don't bother, fool, we contacted the Office as soon as you sent your code ahead," the nun replied.

"There's a call waiting for you in my office," Mr. Eight said with a cruel chuckle.

"Ah, good," Mr. Nine clearly lied. He did not bother to issue further orders to the crew as they saw to the last touches of docking. Nearly rigid with tension, the man who had been beating her with ease over this voyage walked into the town.

Apparently the Boss really was as scary as he had advertised.

"Who the heck are you, brat?" Miss Monday demanded, stepping onto the ship.

"New recruit?" Jade offered, as Mr. Eight lumbered onto deck behind her.

"A kid? Like we don't have enough of those already. Useless sword jockey. Bring me the manifest," Eight called out, dismissing her.

X X X

Mr. Nine opened the door to Eight's office slowly, a chill running down his spine.

The office was pretty typical for a man posing as a mayor, he thought. Two framed maps hung on the wall, one showing Whiskey Peak the town's layout, and the other a rendering of the island. Other documents were hung and may have been legitimate, and two bookshelves filled with texts and adorned with knickknacks. Even the trashcan overflowing with empty booze bottles seemed to add to the vibe of this being nothing special.

The object filling him with dread was the den den mushi sitting atop the desk, a large long-range model, resistant to tapping. It stared at him vacantly as he approached. Taking the speaker off, he noted the 8 painted onto its side, as if its long white beard weren't enough of a clue to who it belonged to.

"This is Mr. Nine, reporting in from my mission."

He waited for a reply, the clock on the wall seeming to grow louder, and he felt a bead of sweat run down his back, as if trying to catch up with the chill.

"So, he lives. For now at least," the voice of Miss All Sunday finally came over the line.

While he made sure not to sigh, a good bit of relief went through Nine at the woman's vice. He did not think the Boss would delegate an execution order to a woman. Not that it guaranteed his safety, but he'd sooner deal with her than his superior.

"Miss All Sunday, I am ready to give my report," he said.

"Is Miss Thursday there with you?" she asked.

"She is dead. An aggressive Sea King attacked our ship. We lost the ship, her, and several Millions," he reported.

"And the cargo?" she asked, her tone never seeming to change from bored disinterest. He hated that about her.

"The containers were too big to be put on the lifeboats. It all went to Davy Jones' locker."

"And the auxiliary containers?"

"Well, with my partner dead, only she and I were to ever expose the cargo. So loading those to any appreciable degree would have taken too much time," he told her. Truthfully, he had forgotten about those in the hours they struggled to save the ship.

"Your performance is disappointing."

"Wait! I have gained a new ship to replace what I lost, I assure you it's a more than adequate replacement."

"That cargo was valuable to the Boss. You prioritized your own safety over salvaging any of it. Or perhaps you were incompetent and forgot there was an option to salvage something? Remember, everything in Baroque Works belongs to the Boss, you are only leased anything as an investment. And if you prove a poor investment, you will be erased. This is the third partner to die on you during your time with the organization. Interesting. Was she really killed by the Sea King, or perhaps you felt you needed a dead woman to blame?"

"I-"

"Agents are also assets to to be used, and that includes being used up if needed to further the Boss' goals. However, when they die and the goal is not achieved, that is another poor investment. Aside from this ship, can you offer anything else?"

"Well, I have recruited a new Million-"

"Truly, you'd actually offer something so small? Even a hundred Millions would not be equal to the loss of a Frontier Agent, much less the cargo… Your rank has been static for sometime. It seems by all reports you should be stronger than Mr. Eight, and you two do not get along. Why have you not asked permission to challenge him for a promotion? Perhaps you have reasons to not draw too much attention to yourself?"

"NO! Nothing like that. You see, I am a warrior and seaman, Eight is a post for overseeing assets. I serve the organization much better in the field!"

"…You will challenge for a promotion. If you prove worthy to ascend, you will be given another chance."

"Thank you, ma'am. I will call Eight in immediately."

"No. You will challenge Mr. Seven. I agree with your assessment; you will not serve he boss well as Mr. Eight. Mr. Seven will meet you at the facility on Delphin. Proceed there without delay. If you win, you will be forgiven as the new Mr. Seven. If you lose, you will be dead. You have 24 hours to restock your ship and crew, then proceed directly to the rendezvous. And leave that new Million behind. Mr. Eight and Miss Monday will ensure she is no spy and see to her learning her place."

"Understood," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. The den den mushi gave a click; the connection was terminated.

Nine frowned, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. He had always intended to challenge Mr. Seven. But he had hoped to see the man in action again. He was younger than Seven, but rumor had it that the man had been a legend in retirement before being recruited by the Boss.

Well, it didn't matter now. He heard flapping sounds outside and didn't bother to go to the window. The Unluckies were already on his tail; if he tried to run, he had heard of them rubbing out people as high as Five with either ambush or attrition tactics.

Opening the door, he made a point not to look to the sky.

X X X

"What do you mean you are leaving me here?!" Jade demanded as the crew loaded the ship. Nine glanced to her with a look of annoyance.

"I mean exactly that. And the only reason I'm not punishing that tone is you are not my responsibility anymore. Remember, you belong to Baroque Works now, same as everyone here. You go or stay as the organization demands. Now report to Mr. Eight," he finished. Without another look, he stepped onto the dock, shouting orders as the ship's loading continued.

'Crap,' Jade thought. Nothing in her liked this twist. She was supposed to be moving toward something, not standing still. Besides, this place was just a pirate port. Outlaw port? What was she supposed to do here?

X X X

"I don't know what to do with you," Mr. Eight said, slouching behind his desk. The fat man was still dressed like a respectable gentleman, but his cheap-looking sunglasses and the cutlass he was cleaning made it more of a parody than a disguise.

"I have no time to waste with brats. Miss Monday handles the kids and the other low ranks. See her at the orphanage. Now get out," he snapped.

X X X

Miss Monday had ditched her nun outfit for a white tank top and tight blue jeans that were not a good look on a woman as old and boney-looking as her. The fact she was chomping a cigar as she lounged on a lawn chair behind the orphanage building did not improve things.

Jade wondered if she should repeat herself when the women took the cigar out of her mouth and tapped the tip of her left boot against the sandy ground. The boots looked to be literally steel-toed, with plates of steel screwed onto the front.

"I hate you," the old gangster declared. Jade blinked at that.

"You personally, but it's because I hate children. Even when I was young, I found them insufferable, loud, and mostly useless brats. As fate would have it, I currently have to work with wretched creatures like you. So in exchange, you will be useful or you'll be planted in the cactus stones just like the others. First things first, I heard that fool used you for practice; the fact you are not a mess of scars tells me you impressed him enough not to just use you as a scratching post. So come at me and show me what you have got. Land one good hit on me, and you can have your own room," the white-haired woman grinned, getting to her feet.

X X X

"Well that wasn't a bad effort, not at all," Monday cackled, rolling Jade over with her foot. Jade's nose was still bleeding, and she saw two of the evil old woman slide apart and back together.

"Throwing that rock, changing the rules on the fly like that. You're a brat accustomed to getting your way, but not because it got handed to you, eh? Well then, welcome to Whiskey Peak Orphanage. I assign you the role of being a gruff tomboy orphan; you will amuse pirates by being disrespectful. And if you do it to the wrong one, you will take the hit and cry your eyes out. Charm the Marines by being the angry girl the fools want to make smile with candy. And I expect you to figure the rest out on your own," the woman spoke as she went back to her chair and retrieved her cigar, which she took a puff on.

"You will ditch those clothes, find something boyish that fits, preferably a bit torn up. I guarantee you one bowl of rice a day and a single cup of water. The rest of the food you have to fight with the other children here for. Of course, you are free to buy from the stores with any money you get; those ring in your ears should buy something if you get too hungry. Oh, and stealing is allowed, so long as it's not from the Boss' cut and stock. If someone's foolish enough to lose their things to a brat like you, Eight and I hardly care. But if they find out it was you and kill you… well, they only need to pay a fee, and then we bury you.

"After your breakfast of rice and water you get to train with the other brats, and the winner gets the honor fighting me or one of my women. Then you're all free labor to anyone higher on the food chain. Which is everyone. Welcome to Whiskey Peak, brat! Wherever you came from, you'll wish you were still there."

X X X

Whiskey Peak was a terrible place, Jade noted as her face throbbed under the bandages. The left side of her face was patched over from where she had been hit with a rock that morning by another orphan. But it was nothing to excuse her from work once she was dismissed by the doctor.

Currently, she sat in the ferry with several of the other orphanage kids. You might expect kids to huddle together in gossip and games; even an outlaw town was still a town, right? Well, not these kids. The kids huddled in gangs or, like her, a safe distance from one another.

This was day three of Whiskey Peak, and Jade was thinking she had really stepped on a lego by not biding Mr. Nine farewell when she had the chance.

The kids of the Millions who lived here, blood or adopted it seemed, were alright besides the fact they were being raised in the family trades, all of which she quickly realized had violence as at least a subcategory. But the orphanage kids were a league apart.

Miss Monday had not been joking about food. There was more food to be had than the cup of water and rice given for breakfast, but it was a prize to be won. And the first day Jade had won, enough of the bullies went down to her that she was able to have a seat for dinner and eat her full. And she had invited the weaker kids to share. The second day had been much the same, even nursing bruises from sparring with Monday.

Today, a boy name Monty, a scrawny wimpy kid who she had been trying to draw out as she gave him and the rest food, had blindsided her by hitting her in the face with a freaking rock. Which had been a signal for the other bottom ringers to try and rush her. They weren't at the bottom for nothing, it turned out, but dang it had been closer than she liked.

And she had found out why from Monday herself, who had been enjoying the show with a glass of whiskey and a cigar.

"They knew a fool who catered to the weakest wouldn't last on top. So they wanted to take you down to earn favor with those who can last. Did you expect gratitude? Yayayaya! Nine really was foolish to recruit you."

Jade frowned, watching the other shore draw closer; apparently the farms that fed Whiskey Peak were on the other side of the island, including the corn and wheat fields for the distilleries that were supposed to be the main source of revenue for the town. Her eyes shifted to the Cactus Rocks, the absurdly large and cactus-like rocks that dominated the skyline of the island.

The kids said the rocks were actually pretty smooth, and each thorn was a actually a grave marker. Ridiculous, there was no way that many people had been killed on the island.

Just like the situation with the kids, she had to remember it couldn't be as bad as all that, she just needed to Jade Chan her way through it.

X X X

Jade really wished she was still getting sunburn, planting crops in the field with the other kids.

"Pick up the pace new girl," Carber called out of sight when Jade paused to wipe sweat and hunks of dirts off her forehead, "You'll be here until you're done, and don't expect any break; you've got five more to your share."

She heard him move on and heard him start to chip away at the next stone.

Jade leaned on the shovel and looked to the measuring stick propped in the corner, the top half illuminated by moonlight. Two feet deeper to dig in this grave, it looked like.

They had yet to follow through on the threat of sending a body down on top of her, but she guessed that was because if she got injured enough someone else would have to dig.

They were burying the customers of the evening a group of pirates out of North Blue...

The town had scrambled when the ship was spotted, everyone getting ready to welcome the pirates. Everyone getting into their role. She had been outside to watch it; Miss Monday turned her out of her bunk where she had been napping after barricading the door to the girls dorms for herself.

She was exhausted after planting fields like some old time peasant, and her face still hurt, of course. And now she guessed that she could get attacked in her sleep. So she decided a nap was in order, in private. On another day maybe it would have worked, but no. The pirates had shown up.

Small blessing was that, as the "delinquent orphan", she was just supposed to be irreverent and grumpy, and as such she had sat herself on a barrel near one of the taverns and resolved to stay there.

The adults she overhead were saying it was a perfect crew. Three bounties, and all under 20 million. Enough to be worth it, and not so much to let them pass.

The pirates were welcomed with banners and cheers. Mr. Eight, in his role as mayor, welcoming them and stating Whiskey Peak was open for business to pirates while advising that the town did business 'with' pirates often.

She didn't hear the unseen captain's reply; Eight was quite a windbag when he wanted to be, and he was sending a message to the pirates. They could revel and debauch the town, but they would pay up, and the town would not still be here with a policy like that if they couldn't back it up.

Then the prates were unleashed. Grunts striking off alone or in clusters, pleased to be ashore and talking about their voyage and what they wanted from the town. Many passed her right into the tavern.

The fake townsfolk played their roles, calling out store ads or wares in booths. The different taverns having criers. Miss Monday in her role as "the Sister" was making rounds, holding up a cross and dramatically begging the pirates to reconsider their sinful ways and walk a path of righteousness before righteous doom was brought down on their heads, etc. Jade watched her routine with mild amusement, complete with Mr. Eight as the beleaguered mayor tearfully telling her the town needed that sinful money, 'So please stop.'

Jade would have found it cool how well done the cover was, if recent events had not left her displeased with life in general. Even her Kano part was disappointed; she was stuck in port, and it was pretty clear no one cared about her getting stronger. It was just some b.s. sink or swim "throw em in the shark tank" excuse for training.

"Heh, kid, you're too young to look that grumpy!" a fat pirate wearing a purple cowboy hat declared, looming over her perch on the barrel. He was a big one, in both senses of the word. He wore a dark green shirt and blue jeans held up by a medallion-style gold belt buckle. And a purple captain's jacket.

"Hmph, I got plenty to be angry about," Jade retorted.

"Ha, that tap on yer face? That's nothing," he said, holding up his hands, which had seven digits between them.

"And I've lost toes to Sea Kings!" he added, laughing down at her.

"You should keep better track of yourself," Jade remarked.

"Ha! If I was that smart, I'd have stayed in North Blue. I have a bit of a rep there, you know?"

"Why come to Grand Line then?" Jade asked.

"Heh, don't you wanna be a pirate, kid? You looked the picture perfect rough kid who's gonna live out on the seas until the day you get cut down by a fellow outlaw or get hung in the town square. And pirates, at their best, love to break down barriers, and the legends of the Grand Line are an irresistible challenge. A pirate might be king of a Blue, but he'd never die easily wondering if he had had what it took to make the cut it on the ocean of legends," the big pirate explained jovially.

"Captain! Why waste time on the miniature girls when there are fun-sized ones in here!?" a pirate called out, sticking his head out the tavern doorway.

The captain bade her farewell with a tip of his hat and entered the tavern. Jade resumed her grumpiness, and had to only deal with some laughter from other pirates enjoying their shore leave.

Not long after, she and the other orphans had been rounded up by the fake nuns, with the vocal reason being to shield them from bad influences. Back in the orphanage building, it was made clear they were to rest and be ready to work tonight. And no trouble-making in the meantime; they wanted everyone fit for work.

Jade had expected the ambush, as this whole place was a trap. She figured the pirates without bounties would be taking a new position, as hard labor. Which in addition to freeing her up might help her get out of here, Jade thought. A prisoner revolt to tear this place down had her smiling as she stared at the bottom of the bunk above her.

She had not expected a massacre.

Jade had stopped flat in the entrance to the tavern when Miss Monday led them back in for cleanup duty. The pirates were dead, slumped around with bloodstains on them, and blood pooling on the floor and tables. A few without obvious blood Jade noted at one table, with green-tinted foam at their mouths, with their eyes wide and unseeing on pale faces.

Voices snapped her vision over to the bar, where several adults were arguing over a collection of wallets and jewelry. Someone shoved Jade forward to clear the way, and like a button pushed, the motion sent her into vomiting on the floor.

X X X

Jade crouched outside next to the door. Sh had been tossed outside with reprimands, but didn't remember much else. Hugging her knees, she stared forward at the other side of the dusty street. She couldn't close her eyes without seeing…

She needed to run, but there was nowhere to run to.

When she heard someone walking up to her, she sighed, but was relived. Even a scolding would distract-

Her train of thought derailed as she looked up to see the pirate captain from earlier illuminated in the moonlight. He had foam dripping from his mouth, and the smell of blood drew her attention to his sword, which was dripping as he held it tight. His eyes widened, recognizing her. Gurgling and snarling, he raised his sword with unmistakable intent.

Jade bolted, and a gunshot rang out. She turned to see the pirate drop face forward to the ground like a sack. Mr Eight walked down the street, flanked by two thugs, holding a smoking gun.

"What sloppiness. I told them not to try drugs on that one — even if it's more money alive, dead is reliable. You, girl!" he said, pointing to Jade, "Get around back and help with the meat wagon, grab a shovel while you're at it."

X X X

In a way, she supposed the whole thing was a bit of a blessing. She was not given corpse detail again, instead sent to dig the graves each time. The harder work meant they saw it as a punishment, but it was good training, Jade decided, and she could take some solace in helping to put these men to proper rest.

Not that they were all men. She saw many a woman tossed into the graves she climbed out of.

Her squeamishness marked her as weak among the orphan kids. Though she still kept winning her right to eat full meals, and with it getting beaten by Monday. She was sure she was getting close to getting the better of the woman, when things got weird.

Her growth spurt hit.

X X X

Her hunger had spiked. Even with stuffing her stomach at each meal past being full, she ended up hungry going to bed. The adults had said her body must be getting ready for a growth spurt, but she had not thought much of it.

The adults were right. One day waking up, something had felt a tad 'off', and over the week she had started to notice things. After about a month, she was clearly taller, and by two her precious kid self was replaced with a scrawny teenish Jade who felt like all elbows and knees.

And it totally wrecked her fighting skills!

Yeah, it was a bad time, as it made her more of a target to the other kids, despite becoming the biggest of the lot. She took to wearing bandages on her face and forearms to provide some protection, and getting a "Murder" T-shirt as part of her outfit made her fit her role of delinquent quite well for the ships coming in, so on one complained.

Any free time was spent training, trying to get back the balance and bodily awareness to be able to dominate again. It worked well enough, she supposed, but another part of her growth spurt kicked in to break any pride she might have at that.

"Ha, and in a ratty shirt like that. Not just a brat now are you," Monday crowed, laughing as she poked Jade in the chest with a ruler.

They hardly strained at the shirt, but they were definitely there.

Jade glared at the woman, resisting the urge to tackle her. The old bag was not as powerful as she acted. Jade bet if she had surprise, she might not be able to beat her, but could make Monday regret everything. Because she was so very, very, pissed.

She had known she was getting close to a change before Wong. Her feelings mixed with the leaving behind of childhood and excitement for more respect and responsibility from those around her. And she had been expecting teasing and awkwardness, but also love. She wasn't supposed to be going though this with people like this! They didn't just not care if she died, they didn't care about each other. This place made the Dark Hand look like a boy scout troop.

Jackie should be dreading having to take her to buy hygiene products. Tohru putting his foot in the mouth being awkward by trying not to make it awkward how she was becoming a young woman. Uncle switching and trying out teenager rants. Viper teasing her, possibly buying a bra that would make Jackie's brain divide by zero, when she of course would show it to everyone. Her mom offering advice over the phone, and her dad insisting Jackie properly document with pictures. Heck, maybe get her own back a bit by teasing Paco.

Not this.

Jade hated this place and everyone here. Not just on principal, but because they had stolen all that from her.

"Well, you're too old now to take it easy at the town's expense, brat. I'd say its time you went too work. Pulled your own weight," Monday brought her back to the present.

And just like that her days at the orphanage came to an end.

Jade was happy to leave the place behind. Her send off was as expected, but she showed them her late night practice had included baseball with rocks. Yeah, she was pretty sure she got a perfect score of six kids for six rocks. Then a rousing game of "tag" for the little monsters to remember her by.

While Miss Monday was laughing as Jade walked out of the rough pueblo compound, she was satisfied to leave behind a bit of silence and blood. The island was still a prison, but she had traded up.

X X X

The girls flats were nothing grand, as it turned out, but Jade had a room to herself now on the second floor of the dried goods store building.

Her new role was waitress. Eight pegged her as the angry waitress, since he said she always looked like she needed to either take a crap or hit something. Jade had nothing to say to that.

At least the outfit wasn't skimpy or something. Mid-thigh-length dress of off-white, with a green shirt under it with brown buckle shoes. Some of the others modified their outfits to be more revealing, claiming better tips. Jade had nothing to say to that, either.

She didn't say much anymore, she realized one day bussing tables. No one here was worth talking to, and she could learn more by listening anyway.

The first order of business was money. She had not really bothered in the orphanage, as any money made went to Monday anyway. She could have sold her earrings, but she had wanted something cashable on hand when she escaped the island.

Well, now she was expected to fend for herself, either cooking or buying food. Despite the many taverns, eating out was a wash, too expensive. Not that the stores were much better; even the local produce and meat was marked up. The whole place was like a company store from her history classes. And of course, it was an island where they made sure no one left except those authorized.

The waitress role only existed for "clients", but unlike the orphans you couldn't just be drafted unless Monday or Eight gave the order.

Her cupboards stayed pretty barren. Rather than working as much as she could at the various tasks on the island, she only did what she needed for two meals a day and a second set of clothes. Her time was dedicated to two things — training and research. This world was bizarre, and it was pretty clear that beyond the weirdness she remembered in Kano, the Grand Line held far more dangers. Any knowledge would be helpful.

Whiskey Peak actually had a schoolhouse, it turned out. It stood out from the pueblo buildings that made up the town; a classic red wooden schoolhouse. It had actually stunned Jade a bit the first time she had stumbled onto the cliché back in her orphanage days.

She had seen the "schoolmarm" a few times, with ruler, stern dress, and sharp glasses, making rounds during the guest days. But the school was more facade than the orphanage. No one went in or out that she ever seen.

Jade had half-expected to find the structure hollow like a theme park building when she investigated it as part of her puberty-purchased liberty. But no, it was a real schoolhouse in design, with benches and long writing tables. Even a chalkboard with a teacher's desk situated in the front right corner. She supposed at some point the place had seen use, or at least been maintained better as part of the con. And more importantly, a bookshelf on the far left corner opposite the dusty teacher's desk. The mathematics and science books she had no time for. The history and geography books were more important.

Kano was a great nation. And as such, its lower levels of education tended to be about 90% about Kano and its close neighbors rather than about the wider world beyond big stroke events. Like Gold Roger was the Pirate King, and to fear the Yonkou/be grateful to the World Government for keeping you safe from them.

Which reminded her. She flipped to a page on the Yonkou and raised an eyebrow.

The book really was old. She knew from her memories that the Yonkou were four men… well, three men and Shendu. Scaly and gruesome apparently had gotten a good roll of the dice in this reality. The Devils of O'hara had released him according to her lessons in Kano, and he had established an empire on the seas and a place among the "Great Scourges of our time". Some fat woman named Big Mom was pictured here in the yellowing pages; the book was old, so she guessed Shendu had taken her down or filled a hole she had left. Jade shrugged and kept reading — it was still more than she knew.

She ended up taking the books back to her room. If that was stealing, she doubted anyone cared about the schoolhouse enough to notice. Because Jade had better things to do with her time than walk to the schoolhouse to read.

For money was still needed to make ends meet. Jade had soon discovered a privilege of being an 'adult' in Whiskey Peak. Like seemingly any outlaw town, especially a bored one, gambling thrived here. A nice way for the wealth to move around without the bosses having to actually give anyone a raise.

She learned poker by watching some games in the saloon. There were dice games anywhere two or more people seemed to linger long, but those were all rigged in some way, she concluded.

Cheating happened in all the games of chance. And whether you cheated or not, if someone accused you of cheating the only question was whether you backed down or fought. Cheating or not, Jade earned her shiners. They weren't allowed to use guns for that, and she could handle knives, a few cuts weren't a big deal.

She ended up just about as popular among the waitress staff as she had with the orphanage kids. So any time she could spend she was training, distraction for the fact she had been alone in all senses that mattered for so long. Even prodding other mooks to come at her with knives or swords was better than dwelling on what was out of her reach.

Other mooks… yeah, that was a moment when she had to admit she was just that to anyone looking from the outside. Another mook, probably not even as memorable as Ratso.

That didn't depress her nearly as much her little… anniversary.

X X X

The woman walked through the over-decorated hallway to the surprisingly non-ornate office door.

She wore a purple gown that flowed down around her, hiding her feet, though the clack on the floorboards betrayed the presence of heels. A black bodice was prevented from showing off cleavage by the black top underneath. White gloves made her hands stand out at the end of long purple sleeves. Her hair was coal-colored and pulled into a simple two-tail style that dangled down her front, framing a pale face lacking anything but white makeup. It was a pretty face. Perhaps beautiful, if there were any hint of a smile or her eyes told anything but reflections.

The well-dressed and empty-faced woman entered the office without knocking.

"I told you to knock," the man seated at the desk told her. He was not facing her. The back of the chair hid him from sight, as it was framed against the sunlight pouring in with a view of the city.

"You did. The package is in hand. You can leave at once to recover it from Whiskey Peak."

"Good." Neither of them moved, "What is it, Miss All Sunday?"

"This seems pointless. It's a power that draws attention and cannot be used. How can possessing it be anything but a deficit?" she asked, frowning slightly. He got up and walked to stand by her, facing down the hall she had come.

"This is why, for all your talents, you are destined to be someone else's lackey. Do you believe what you read and are told? It may be that the power is unusable and useless, as they say. Or the rumors and so-called hidden facts are simply false trails to hide a treasure those who place themselves above the world do not want others to harness. If at all possible, I choose not to believe in or disbelieve something until I can witness it for myself."

Then he was gone, leaving her to close the door behind herself.

X X X

A year, Jade thought bitterly, legs dangling over the edge of the pier.

Monday had taken the time out of her busy day when Jade was cleaning out the ovens at the saloon to tell her she had been at Whiskey Peak a whole year. And since she wasn't happy, she should try investing in her looks to get favor with the next officer to come through.

That had been two weeks ago, Jade acknowledged, taking a pull from the sake bottle she had won the day before. She sat on the pier, wearing loose pants and a sweat-stained sleeveless white shirt. Her arms and feet were covered in sports tape. Looking down into the water of the river flow by, she took in the reflection.

Where had the time gone? How much had she wasted here standing still? Had a few dead crooks and guarded boats really been enough to rob her of her awesomeness?

The sad answer seemed to be yes. Jade scowled and took a deeper drink. She had generally associated drinking with losers, but there wasn't even radio here, and she couldn't afford anything better than a newspaper out of the scrap pile or taken from drunks' hands.

And when training wasn't enough to take her mind off, well…

She had to get out of here, Jade chastised herself, tossing the bottle still half full into the river. As lethal as these people were, she was not just risking dying, she was risking being worn down.

Jackie, maybe that was the key? Even in Demon World she had Jackie. Granted, she had had to mentor that slave Jackie, but he had still been like a compass. And with Jackie had come direction, a quest, and one by one the J-Team had assembled until it was just another adventure despite the stakes and setting.

In this world, she seemed to be alone with the fake new world, and it was determined to make her as fake as the Kano memories that clicked so readily. There was no clear line to follow either, only the very distant goal.

The One Piece.

Well, Kano Jade and Hong Kong Jade were both sick of this. The girl who dreamed of being a pirate was not content being a gravediggger/waitress/gambler/laborer who practiced martial arts.

The Marines might actually be her best bet, she admitted. Marine ships came through less often, and she was pretty sure a few were accepting bribes, but Marines were never purged. And they were always recruiting, she noticed. Even with the questionable picture of little orphan kids being offered jobs as chore boys.

So, a high-ranking Marine that the Baroque people wouldn't want to mess with. Impress them, offer to join, and sail away before retaliation could come? That was rolling more than one six there. And the penalty for a bad roll was the entire island being out for her blood.

Jade would do it, she decided, clenching her hands into fists. She just needed an opening. And besides, Monday and Eight were distracted lately. Apparently the Boss was going to use Whiskey Peak as ground zero for a sale with a very important, above Jade's pay grade, customer.

Big risk, but perhaps big reward too. She reached for the bottle to drink to good luck, only to grasp empty air and scowl at the river which stole her hard-earned sake.

X X X

Mister Eight was sweating as the ship docked. It was a low, sleek vessel built for speed and to be manned with a small crew, and black sails that helped it blend with the night.

Walking down the dock to where the gangplank touched the boards, he was followed by two Millions holding the chest. The gangly Kano girl was one of them. He did not care for that one, and he had hoped to see her struggle with the weight of the chest. But she was doing fine, paired with one of their more standard thugs.

'Blast! They might think the chest is too light if that beanpole is doing okay!' Eight thought, making note to order his men to give the impudent girl a proper beating for messing this up.

The black market man was wearing a nice grey suit and a black opera mask when he descended, holding the box. It was big enough to hold a Devil Fruit, which is what this man thought he was delivering.

Mr. Eight accepted the box and, turning it away from the fancy delivery boy, broke the clay seal. He opened it slowly, just enough to let the moonlight reveal what was in there. He closed it back with a snap, then walked away as the chest was set down, letting the man inspect it.

The delivery boy wasn't very good at checking payments, it turned out. By the time Eight got back to his office, the bomb in the chest went off on schedule, he heard it from there. A fire bomb, the currents would erase any trace of a ship.

Setting the box down on his desk, Eight looked out the window of his office, peeling back the blinds a tad with two fingers. Everyone was making their ways to their posts.

Whiskey Peak was on Closed Eye Alert. The Boss wanted no one to know what was going on here tonight, and absolutely not who the buyer was. But Eight needed everyone to be ready in case something went wrong.

Usually for something this big, he would hope it meant he was rising in the Boss' esteem. But this time, he thought, sitting back down in his desk chair, all he wanted was this devil gone from his life.

X X X

"To think, a den of bounty hunters is a coverup for a greater coverup," Captain Pudding said, lowering his spyglass. Whiskey Peak was in sight, the fire from the destroyed ship having been swallowed by the sea. If they played this right, they would be able to draw close, mistaken for the client.

"Sir? The man we interrogated admitted the package was coming here, but he said it was just the Whiskey Peak Bounty Hunter Association trying to curry favor with strong pirates," the first mate said. The captain laughed as the deck moved beneath them, the crew swinging the ship into its approach.

"As if mere bounty hunter scum would have the grit for such a job. I think we may be on the verge of something big here. Just think, one of 'those' changing hands — it couldn't be something so petty as a pack of scum getting lucky," the captain dismissed, brushing at one of the ponytails he kept his light purple hair in.

"But sir, if that is true, shouldn't we call for back-up? Or update command? We did not even ask for authorization to enter Grand Line," he clearly was not convinced or pleased at his captain's course of action.

"For good reason. Too many corrupt and cowardly Marines in it. If this is big, they may have connections with the scum of the ranks; that may be how they stayed hidden this long. No, we do this ourselves. And get the glory and promotions for returning that vile relic to safekeeping in the Holy Land. Prepare the men, we'll land a force to flank the town inland before we strike. First we destroy their ships with bombardment; the landward force will hold position and be the anvil to the hammer of our main force. There are no innocents here, we wipe them all out for Justice," the captain said, idly fingering his sword's pommel.

X X X

Jade took a swig of the sake and put the bottle down on the table as she held her cards carefully.

"I can't believe they had me carrying a bomb," she griped. The other two female Millions rolled their eyes while the cowboy style Million scowled and glared at her.

"Stop saying that. We heard you the first time, everyone heard you all six times. I counted!" he shouted, his black mustache twisting in an amusing way as he raised his volume. The sight made Jade laugh, which only made him glower more.

Jade and about thirty of Whiskey Peak's worst were hanging out in a tavern on standby. This Closed Eyes Alert or whatever seemed to amount to put on your weapons and waste time until it's over. Well, her night wasn't going to be a total waste, she thought as she laid down a winning hand.

The women conceded and Jade reached for the pot, only for a knife to impale the poor innocent money to the table, sending a few stray coins rolling. The cowboy leaned over the table and laid his own hand down next to hers.

"Huh, two kings of clubs," Jade commented.

His first mistake was pulling the knife back out; that gave her time. Then he called her a bad name. Taking a swing at her with the knife… well, that just gave her an opening.

He was one of the island's best bounty hunters, so it took four moves to bury his head in the floorboards.

"Ha," Jade said, grinding her heel in his back. Then the barkeep grabbed the pot before her eyes.

"For the floor," he said sternly.

"Crap," Jade said, grabbing her bottle and heading to the bar. That really took the wind out of her sails.

No sooner had she taken a swig when the walls rattled and a window cracked as something exploded outside. Jade spat sake in a mist before someone darted outside. Things kept exploding, and she heard someone shout that the boats were being bombarded.

"The lookouts!" A woman yelled.

"Those idiots ordered everyone away from looking! Someone stole a sail on us!"

"Arms! Attack!" a higher-ranked cowboy declared, holding up two rifles.

X X X

Miss Monday rushed the brats out with pistols and knives in their hands as the town blazed before them.

"Gold for any killing! Lead for running away!" she yelled after them. They answered with pint-sized war cries, brandishing their weapons as they rushed to certain doom.

Monday turned and ran inland, sweating and wondering if it was time to end her tenure with Baroque Works.

X X X

"Marines?!" Mr. Eight cursed, hugging the box to his chest and griping his gun in the other hand. When things started blowing up, he had assumed the buyer had decided to erase them, probably trying to cheat the Boss out of his fee, too. Instead, it was something much worse. With a trio of Millions, he retreated into the chapel, the gate being slammed shut behind him.

It was tempting to throw the cargo away like the curse it was, he thought. But if he escaped but lost the Boss' cargo, the Unluckies would track him down and kill him.

Dropping the empty pistol, he grabbed a bottle of sake out of the hand of a Million with a bandage wrapped around her head, and guzzled the liquid. The Kano girl, he realized, looking at the one who he had stolen the booze from.

He looked around at the forces at his command. Pathetic, he realized. The best had run to their deaths and the smart had run for the hills, and died for it. The Marines were inland too, they had been outflanked. All he had left here were fools and cowards, getting crushed in the vice with him.

The Unluckies could wait. He was not going to die with this trash for a man whose face he had never seen.

"Alright, new plan! Everyone scatter and make a run for it; they hopefully can't catch us all, and we can regroup once we get to safety," Eight proclaimed, shoving the box into Jade's hand, "Here, you protect the package."

"Wait, what? Why me?" Jade asked, caught off guard.

"I'd say something flattering, but you're just the best out of a bad lot," Eight said bluntly, before taking another swig of her sake.

"Gee, thanks," Jade said flatly, which Eight completely ignored as he took off running.

While the others and Eight moved toward the back and the rear gate, Jade climbed on top of a shed, putting her within reach of the top of the adobe wall. When trying to escape, unexpected directions were a solid bet. She had not forgotten that from the real world.

Rather than wait for any signal, she pulled herself up, staying low and holding the box tucked under her arm.

"There she goes! She has the cargo!" Eight yelled. Jade froze and looked back, seeing Eight standing in the courtyard below. He smiled at her, as Jade's surprise turned hot. Cursing, she rolled off the wall, landing on the side street with a perfect three-pointer, and taking off as booted footsteps seemed to converge around her.

'Evade, just evade. You were leaving anyway, weren't you?' Jade told herself as she weaved through the alleys and twists of Whiskey Peak. She couldn't see the Marines, but they were noisy. And she knew this place. And she had trained. The others, the Millions, they fought loyally; she was silent.

With hardly any loss of speed, she rushed up a ladder, leaving the ground for a roof. She was off the roof in seconds, leaping an alley, low to another movement below. Nothing to see by the time they looked up.

'I can do this. I have trained back to awesomeness. I was being stupid, holding back here so long. I'm Jade Chan,' she thought, ducking from an alley to the empty square that was the last mark before the town quickly gave way to the arid hills.

It was empty, save for corpses Jade forced herself to ignore. They had already swept through here, she could get away. She couldn't be found if she hid in the hills. She'd get passage on the next pirate ship in port. She'd sell this thing to fund herself.

"Goodbye, Baroque Works!" Jade whispered.

A figure darted out from her left, and Jade had to duck, barely tucking into a roll as she lost her step, a sword cutting through the air she had just occupied. The box slipped from the grasp and popped open. Jade didn't look, eyes on her opponent.

"I am Captain Pudding Pudding. You may surrender now, or die for crimes against the World Government," the man said.

Jade stared at him, jaw dropping slightly. The Marine, who had the most ridiculous hairstyle she had ever seen, three ponytails, gave a smile, perhaps thinking he was intimidating her. Well, the badass white coat worn without sleeves was cool, but as for the rest…

"That is the dumbest name I have ever heard," Jade managed. She gagged, then outright laughed, it was just too much! All of this horror tonight, then this tacky haired whatever named after dessert!

"Is there a whole family out there named for dessert? Was your mother Chocolate of the Cream family, and your father Banana of Pudding!?" Jade laughed, backing up a few steps and trying to stop laughing. She barely moved aside as he closed the distance, slashing for her. Going low, she broke her stride to kick out at his feet. Her eyes widened as, despite looking away, he hopped up, evading the blow and pivoting around. Jade pushed herself into a roll, the sword biting clear into the road.

Coming up in a crouch, any hope of him being delayed by his sword was thwarted as he pulled it clear with ease, bits of packed dirt coming off it with a flick of the blade.

Jade frowned and rose, only to cry out and have to brace herself against the ground with one hand. The other hand went to her side, wetness bleaching her shirt red. Blood was all over her hand.

"You got me?" Jade asked, stunned, looking up to see a boot filling her vision. The kick sent her onto her back. Her side flared in pain at the impact, she gasped as dots exploded in her vision.

Boots pounded on pavement. Jade pulled herself up and saw Marines entering the square she was in. One saluted the captain, who was cleaning his sword with a cloth.

"Secured, sir! The package remains missing, though. Reports say it was handed off to a runner."

The package… Jade looked to the box; she was next to where it had fallen, after all that. It had opened on impact, its contents spilled on the ground beside her. No one else seemed to have noticed. A familiar mask — painted black with red and yellow eyes, thick eyeridges, a brow specked with tiny spikes, and dominated by a wide grinning mouth opened to reveal sharp teeth.

Of course she recognized it. And a chill that had nothing to do with shock or blood loss came over her as her blood reached the mask.

'You don't want to die here. So why not save yourself?'

Jade wasn't sure if she imagined it. But the question struck home for another reason as she looked back at the captain as he glanced from his subordinate back to her. Frowning slightly. Thoughtfully.

She could die here.

These guys weren't taking prisoners, and she was just an enemy to them. They didn't care about Hong Kong Jade or Kano Jade's stories. She could beat him alone, she was sure, even like this. Right?

But an army?

They had good reason to hunt this mask. It was evil. It was sooo dangerous. She would have stopped most anything she was doing if someone needed help keeping this at bay.

She grabbed the mask up with one hand, desperately rifling through all the reasons she wanted to live, even counting the Kano reasons. But stopped short, staring into the back of the mask looming like an abyss small enough to be held in your hand. So many reasons to live, but so many reasons not to go this far.

She didn't hear what the Marine said. Only the noise before he struck her in the back of the head and her face plunged forward, meeting the back of the mask.

The world fell away, and colors swirled through darkness, images and sounds coming and going so quick it was like a light show set to a broken song. No, she could find a constant in this whirlwind. Screaming. Everything was screaming. Save the one who was laughing.

Somehow she found her hands in the chaos of the maelstrom and then her head. Impulse over thought, she pulled her head off and breathed.

"FUCK," Jade gasped, coughing for breath as the ground rushed up to kiss her on the nose.

Blinking, Jade turned her head to see Whiskey Peak from a lower angle than usual. A few blinks and she remembered this was reality and tried to recall what she had been doing.

Siting up, she ignored her throbbing face and side even as she grunted in reaction. Her arms pressed something to her chest. Heavy limbed, she held it out and found herself staring face to face with the mask she had just worn. The mask of the Crab Tribe. An Oni Mask.

"Bad day," Jade coughed, her throat feeling raw. Looking around, she found herself alone, surrounded by dead Marines as well as Millions. Several had bits of them ripped apart, or twisted unnaturally.

The images made a good bit more sense now, Jade realized. That was not how the masks worked, right? But then how had she taken it off so easily?

How long had she had it on, she realized, blinking?

"Devil…" a man growled.

One of the corpses moved, and Jade realized as it got to its feet it was actually alive. Pudding was not dead — one arm hung uselessly, he had at least one stab wound in his gut, and all but his left pony tail ruined leaving his hair wild. But still alive and armed, and so very angry.

'It would be good to run now,' Jade realized, but her body just locked up in pain when she tried to rise, screaming out.

"Those were good men!" he growled, limping the distance between them. Jade watched mutely as he drew closer, the mask slipping from her hands to clatter to the ground.

'I can't die here,' Jade thought plainly, as he dropped the sword he couldn't raise and drew a pistol from his belt.

He struggled to raise it, but as he fumbled the hammer back, half a dozen injured and rattled-looking Marines ran into sight and raised their rifles without question, following their boss' lead.

Jade's mind raced through the fatigue, and it came to a frantic conclusion. She couldn't run. She couldn't fight and there was no reasoning or tricking her way out. She was going to be gunned down in this horrible place in a horrible fake world!

She swore she could see his finger squeezing on the trigger as his face twisted into a smile that was fury and satisfaction entwined.

"Huuukk!" Jade gasped, pulling back and nearly falling over despite being on her knees.

The Marine went flying, the shot had gone wild. Jade gaped, her mind trying to catch up to what her eyes were seeing.

Trailing behind him was… something?

Her mind lagged as the substance erupted from beyond her sight again and whipped around. Slow to keep up with events as it lagged from a near death experience she hardly reacted.

The Marines were being killed, she finally realized. Blades at the end of tendrils catching the moonlight were snuffing them out with brutal efficiency.

Something exploded in the direction of the harbor. The Marine ship, Jade realized, was the only possible source of that much explosives. It had gone down with all hands.

How could it be any other way?

How?

Jade realized the screaming had stopped. So she and the biggest killer yet were alone together on Whiskey Peak.

The moonlight was so beautiful on the mass graves that were the cactus rocks. Could even Baroque Works cover the whole of such monumental stones with graves someday, Jade wondered. Would anyone bother to bury these people? Her?

The footstep made her breathe. Shoes on the packed dirt of the road. It was coming. Right now.

Jade didn't remember standing, but she was when she saw something move in the shadows of an alley made dark by the moon's angle. She found it in her to try and die on her feet — it wasn't much for a do-over, but it was something.

The mighty killer didn't sulk or even stalk. He strode into sight, the indisputable king of this moment of horror and death. The tallest man she had seen since arriving here. Broad shouldered too, she could tell. The fur coat worn over his shoulders was enhancing the effect rather than compensating.

Immaculately dressed, his pale, manly, handsome face was marked by a scar she had seen across the Very Important pirate posters. The greats that were never meant to be harassed in any shape or form. The scar had reminded her a bit of a line of teeth across his face. In person, she found herself expecting that second mouth to crack open and grin at her.

She overlooked the oversized golden metal hook in place of one hand until he raised it to point at her. No it wasn't oversized, that was a weapon.

The buyer had arrived. Crocodile, of the Seven Royal Warlords of the Sea.

And she had been holding his desired purchase.

Jade slowly went to one knee, slow because otherwise she might fall from pain and the weight of his gaze. And she might be played with by the world and faceplant into the mask.

Down on one knee, she held the mask up and out, an unmistakable offering. Her eyes went to the ground, as he came closer.

She heard him fiddle with something, then the familiar sound of a lighter being worked. He lit up a cigar… God, she could recognize that sound now?

Later she would be sure it was sheer exhaustion that kept her from flinching or fleeing when Crocodile prodded her cheek with the tip of that massive hook. She looked up and saw him studying her with a lazy expression, including a chomped cigar burning cherry hot in his mouth. But his eyes were intense, curious.

"You actually took it off. I just saw something that is supposed to be impossible. I would like to make use of this talent of yours," the warlord said.

He turned to go, the mask still in her hands. Nothing more was said, but she realized there didn't need to be. There was nothing to grab or pack. Not even tears to be shed, were there? She looked to where the captain lay motionless, both halves of him she noticed, getting to her feet.

She had followed the swordsman after a massacre that was merciful compared to this. And this was all one man, with no effort. And there wasn't a request, because this time there was no choice, was there?

Focusing on breathing and her steps, she followed after the great pirate through the streets of Whiskey Peak, the black mask held tight in her hands as if her life depended on it.

X X X

Sleep. She did not sleep. There were no dreams. No stretch of boredom, for time had little meaning. It was a moment of pensive assurance. The realization in the face of defeat that she would continue to exist onward.

With that assurance had come a certainty. Certainty that despite obstacle and time, she would rise once more. For what reason did her existence endure, if not to once again rise in glory?

But there was nothing here but her. And she was an idea and memory at the moment. Such things were acted upon rather than actors. So there was the moment and then the waiting for next. A tick awaiting its tock.

With a sound of thunder, came the tock. Crimson eyes blinked and lungs drew breath, while sweet chi pumped a heart that had been stilled. The Queen of the Shadowkhan reached out and parted the ether, stepping from nowhere to somewhere.

The moment passed, the darkness receded, the impression of blood, death, and mortal peril intoxicating but fleeting. But the pendulum of being swung, a tick following a tock...

The cave was dark and damp, the sunbeams strange intruders through cracks and shadows that evaded her comprehension played out across black walls. But it was something, and she set her bare feet on the sharp hard ground, the discomfort a thrill. She was real once more, and though dwelling in darkness, she dwelled once more.

Gathering herself against a wall, curled up in comfort, she let the darkness wrap her up. She was weak now, very much so. But rest would benefit her, and she felt the power that had roused her was not far gone.

It would return and she would be ready. Not to rise, no not yet, not for a long road from these catacombs to a throne somewhere far distant. She would be ready, and she would grow stronger.

Patience. Not her strong suit, but she could learn. Smiling to herself, the Queen slept in darkness and dreamed of black oceans and hidden shapes in their depths.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Well here we are. Most of this actually gotten written around December I think it was, but some vital parts refused to fall into place. Hmm, not entirely satisfied with this I admit, but I think this is the best I can get with it.

Jade's time in Whiskey peak was hard, for me as well. Jade is not the kind to be contained but she was contained here, a very blunt introduction to how cruel the One Piece world can be.

For me at least Jade's experience at Whiskey Peak was inspired in part by Karlo's backstory in "Hanley" by Nibelungvelocity, one of my favorite Fanfics of all time. With someone falling into this world but instead of having good people and mentors on hand, gets stomped in the face.

Importantly this really moves us beyond what Toxinvictoria and I worked on scene wise. Just like Jade here we are entering new territory stuff that T.V. And I discussed and a few scenes were pitched but not written out much.

As with all my stories I don't know of the opening frontier will make it easier or harder. But at the very least I am happy Jade is now able to ride with the Big Boys and start to grow stringer and progress in this world.

Such things in store, now only to reach tem so hey can be shared with you all!

Speaking of my stories, this chapter came as a surprise, since January I have been working on something special for my PDJ fans. Its not been an easy project, Zim has really had to help me on this one beyond the usual. Zim'smostloylaservant really is great Slow progress, sleeping problems, and the lousy weather here have had their effects too I admit. But, however slow, the progress brings it closer to the day I finally post this for you.

I hope you will like what's in store.

Long days and pleasant nights!