Piccadilly, An Island in the Grand Line – Approximately five years before Dressrosa's fall

Like any infant, Dellinger threw tantrums. Unlike most infants, his tantrums left the ship walls full of holes and Jora's legs full of bite marks.

Dellinger was still much too young to participate in close combat with the crew during the instances it occurred. Sitting from his perch on the cannon was one thing, but at eighteen months he was only just getting the hang of walking, and was sure to be trampled in a fight among grown humans. (Corazon had recently drawn a particularly entertaining picture of Dellinger getting accidentally squished by Machvise that had sent Jora into hysterics).

Dellinger had been put down for an afternoon nap, and for once he actually went to sleep, much to Jora's relief. But the peace was to be short lived.

"Your crew took our weapons! Those were for buyers in the New World!"

"This junk? You call these weapons? They wouldn't last a day in the New World," chuckled Machvise, taking a rifle and breaking it in half with ease before the astonished captain, tossing it at his feet disdainfully. "Who are your buyers? Dwarves?"

"I think you misunderstand," said Doflamingo, lounging against the ship's mast. "Piccadilly is the Donquixote Family's port. You bring your goods in, they become our goods. We control what goes in and out. We do not compromise our territories. Either you share your resources with my family or you dock elsewhere."

"That's ridiculous."

"Tell that to the mayor who signed our approval," sneered Law.

"This is going nowhere," sighed Doflamingo, narrowing his eyes. He flicked his finger and the captain staggered towards him.

"Boss!"

"What the hell?!"

"I have more important things to do that deal with you fools," sighed Doflamingo.

"My body it's-it's moving on its own—" the captain gasped, his sword lifeless in his hands. He strained and pulled against Doflamingo's strings, trickles of blood running down his wrists.

"Like we haven't heard that before," muttered Senor Pink, adjusting his glasses. "Let's get this over with."

The fight was completely and utterly one-sided. The pirates, armed with nothing but cutlasses and pistols were completely laid to waste by the prowess of the family's devil fruit abilities.

While Baby 5, Buffalo and Law were dumping the slain bodies overboard, Jora returned to her quarters to check on Dellinger. Corazon yawned broadly and walked into the ship's mast.

Jora had noted that Dellinger had been sleeping through the night considerably more. She was hardly complaining.

The first thing she heard was the screaming. She paused, taken aback. No, that wasn't a scream for attention or a scream to be changed. That was a hungry scream, but not quite the likes of which she had heard before. Cautiously, she opened the door.

The bars of the crib had been chewed clean off, the sheets a jumble, and holes and teeth marks were all over the floor. The hysterical screaming was deafening.

Dellinger had lodged his horns into the wall by his crib and had apparently gotten himself stuck.

Jora gaped at the infant, struggling to dislodge his tiny horns from the wall, screaming and howling.

"Darling, whatever have you done-zamasu?" said Jora, bending over and yanking Dellinger free from the wall. She sighed. Another little cap ruined. "What is the matter? Jora is here. Jora will make it better."

Dellinger's chubby fingers were reaching, grasping to the doorway from whence Jora had just come, continuing to wail.

"The family is up there dear," said Jora. "We took care of all the nasty people. Were you frightened? Did all the noise scare my precious little fish?"

She ascended the stairs again, Dellinger cradled in her arms, still shrieking.

"What is his problem?" asked Diamante.

"I don't know," said Jora, bouncing him a bit, to no avail. "He was stuck in the wall when I found him, by his horns. He nearly destroyed the room, chewed everything up. I think he didn't know what was going on."

Dellinger was suddenly silent, his protuberant eyes bulging. He began squirming wildly in Jora's grasp.

"Darling I can't put you down, the deck is all messy, not for my pretty fish. It's covered in –"

"Covered in blood?"

Doflamingo sauntered over, looking pleased.

"He could smell it, I'll bet. All the way from downstairs. Must have driven him crazy. Come here you."

He lifted Dellinger from Jora's arms and sat him down on the deck. Dellinger crawled to the body of a fallen pirate whom had not yet been dumped over the side. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a tiny hand. Doflamingo knelt beside him and guided the tiny hand with gentle fingers.

Dellinger plopped his hand smack in the bloody puddle beneath the body, and stuck his hand in his mouth, sucking with apparent relish.

The family gaped. Dellinger continued sucking on his fingers.

Doflamingo stood up.

"What the hell are you all staring at?" he demanded. "What's normal for this kid isn't normal for us. Deal with it. Or would you rather listen to him scream the rest of the afternoon?"

He reached down and scooped Dellinger off the deck. Dellinger began shrieking hysterically and the crew winced.

"Thought so," said Doffy, setting Dellinger back down.

Dellinger flopped onto his stomach and cooed.


"G!" said Dellinger. "G!"

"That's it! That's the 'G!'"

"Lao G, Dell has to learn other letters besides 'G!" said Jora, irritably, bending over the oven to take out her clam bake, while Dell continued to squeak "G!"

Dellinger's vocabulary was nothing particularly remarkable. At a little over eighteen months he could say "yes," "no," among other occasional words and articulate most of the family's names, including "Jowa," "Wasama," "Five," "Buflo," "Gladys," "Troll" and "G." ('Diamante' was proving difficult.)

"Jora, your clam bake is gross," said Diamante. "I'm not eating this shit."

"Well then go ahead and starve–zamasu," snapped Jora.

"Shit!" yelled Dellinger.

Jora dropped the clam bake.

The entire table stared at him.

Doflamingo slammed his hand onto the table and roared with laughter.


Dellinger seemed to grow at the average rate of a human. His strength however, grew with him. Objects no two-year should have been able to budge became toys. The other children, Buffalo, Baby 5, and Law, regarded him with a mixture of apprehension, adoration and general indifference. Baby 5 doted on the child and often asked to help Jora, and Buffalo usually got roped into things because he wanted to help Baby 5. Law didn't care much either way.

Dellinger had finally gotten his legs under him and was as comfortable trotting around the ship as he was in the water.

Which made him all the more difficult to keep track of.

"Is he in here?" Machvise said, poking his head in Jora's room.

"You lost him?!" demanded Jora, standing upright.

"No, I just looked away for a moment! I was reading to him and I looked away and he was gone!"

"Oh dear, we lost Dellinger," deadpanned Gladius. "Maybe he jumped overboard to join his own kind."

"Don't say such things, Gladius!" cried Jora. "Dellybean! Dellybean where are you!"

"He's free now, Jora," said Gladius, spreading his arms. "Freedom is everything in this world, right?"

"Oh will you stop-zamasu!"

Dellinger had strolled happily onto the deck, where the older children were cleaning. He approached his usual perch of the canon, only to be distracted by the cannonballs.

"Buflo!" said Dellinger enthusiastically. "Ball!"

Buffalo barely had time to look up before Dellinger flung a cannonball straight at his head.

Buffalo landed out cold on the deck, the other children shrieking with laughter.

Dellinger looked highly disappointed.

"Catch, Buflo," he said emphatically.

"Dellinger, there you are!" cried Jora.

"Jora Jora! Catch!" cried Dellinger. Jora barely had time to duck at the cannon ball came whizzing by her head, clipping her hair.

"Give me that," said Machvise, grabbing another cannonball away from Dellinger. "Looks like we'll putting you to work sooner than you thought."

From that point on Dellinger was delighted to help load cannonballs. He was approximately two years old.

"It's good to see him being useful," said Lao G.

"I'm useful, right?" asked Baby 5.

"My dear, I wonder if there is anyone quite so useful as you," said Lao G, picking her up and setting her on his shoulders.


"Fufufu, come now Montague, the wine isn't poisoned. Didn't your family teach you good manners?"

Doflamingo took a long, carefully measured sip from his wine glass, watching out the corner of his eyes as Montague left his untouched.

"While I appreciate your fine hospitality," Montague said with an air of disdain, regarding the jeweled rings on his hands. "I'm not sure that a partnership with the Donquixote family is in the best interests for my crew. We thank you for your, request, but we have our own territories and resources, and we are not particularly interested in an agreement."

Trebol's slimy hand twitched towards his concealed pistol. Doflamingo gave him a quick, subtle smile.

"Fufufufu…I'm not sure you truly understand," chuckled Doflamingo, setting down the wine glass and inclining his head to the side. "The Donquixote Family doesn't make requests, we make demands."

At this Senor Pink began absentmindedly polishing a set of brass knuckles, giving Montague a fluid glance from under his fedora. A vein twitched in Montague's temple and his hand slid to his leg.

"My men are not accustomed to demands," said Montague, his voice a quiet growl. "And neither am I." His eyebrows indicated the four men flanking him, two on each side, each armed with rifles and staring down the family from behind their sunglasses. One of them took a long draw on their cigarette and exhaled, a sneer flicking across their face behind the cloud of smoke.

"Ah, but of course," said Doflamingo spreading his hands wide. He reached for the bottle of wine to refill his own glass. "Completely understandable for racketeers of your considerable status and resources. But we all have needs to meet, so tell me…what can my dear family do to, persuade you?"

"I'm afraid –"

A shrill peal of laughter cut across conversation. Montague and his cohorts whipped around at the noise, accompanied by a pounding of running footsteps from outside the door.

There was a sudden slamming against the door and the hinges rattled; the laughter continued.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Montague, unsheathing his sword as his cohorts drew their rifles.

Doflamingo looked completed unfazed.

"Oh it's just the fish," said Diamante.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes we adopted a killer fish," said Gladius, straightening his goggles and sighing.

"Oh Gladius, don't call him that-innn," said Machvise.

The door jolted off its hinges and fell to the ground with a crash.

Montague and his men gasped in involuntarily.

Dellinger, perhaps just shy of two years came careening into the room, shrieking with laughter.

He was completely naked and soaking wet, his horns poking out from his dripping hair and his dorsal fin shining with water. Dellinger squealed with laughter and ran for Doflamingo.

"Wasama! Wasama!" he giggled, holding out his hands.

"Fufufu….well hello there, Dellinger," said Doflamingo, scooping up the child. "Did you come to offer your valuable insight to our meeting? Do say hello to our guests! Captain Montague, this is Dellinger."

Cradling the dripping child, Doflamingo pointed across the table to Montague, his huge body dwarfing Dellinger's tiny one. Dellinger buried his wet face in Doflamingo's feathers.

"Beheheheh, come now! Don't be shy Dell!" chortled Trebol.

Dellinger slowly lifted his head to look at the unfamiliar person, who was regarding him with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and disdain. Clinging tightly to Doflamingo's shirt, Dellinger opened his mouth, baring his mismatched teeth, and hissed at Montague.

"Fufufufu! Your opinions have been duly noted Dellinger!" laughed Doflamingo, as Dellinger buried his face once again, giggling shrilly.

"DELLINGER! There you are, you naughty child! You do not interrupt the Young Master's meetings!"

Jora swooped into the room clutching a towel and also dripping wet, Baby 5 tailing her.

"Fufufu, that's quite alright, Dell was just offering his insights on the negotiations," chuckled Doflamingo.

"NOOOOOO!" screamed Dellinger, as Doflamingo handled the flailing toddler back to Jora, who attempted to swaddle him into the towel.

"You do not run around without clothing when there are guests! It isn't proper-zamasu!" she scolded, struggling to hold on to the squirming child. "I swear, he's already stronger than me! I think he needs a leash or something."

"Yes, a leash would be perfect," deadpanned Gladius.

"Gladius! Gladius! Look, I've been practicing!" said Baby 5. She thrust out her arms. One morphed into a bayonet, and the other into a rifle.

There was a loud clattering noise as one of Montague's men dropped their own rifle, their mouth hanging open. They quickly picked it up.

None of the family reacted. Gladius gave Baby 5 a thumbs up.

"We apologize for interrupting-zamasu," said Jora, as she and Baby 5 quickly ushered the howling Dellinger out of the room.

"NOOOOOO!"

"Now then…where were we?" said Doflamingo, smiling broadly.

Montague was gaping at the doorway with an expression of incredulity and horror. His men wore similar expressions.

"You know what?" he said. "It's fine. All of it. Whatever you want."


"Boss? How'd it go?"

Montague was silent as he walked up the gangplank, followed by the three men who had accompanied him.

"You told that trash bird no, right?"

Montague remained silent.

"Come on boss, you didn't agree, did you?!"

"That guy's a freak! They all are!"

"He takes in kids; he's a pervert! Are we going to let some guy like that intimidate us?"

"I saw the kids," said Montague quietly. "There was a girl. She had guns for arms. The toddler smashed down the door."

"What?"

"It had horns. It had a fin. It had sharp teeth. And it hissed at me."


"Young Master, I'm so sorry!" said Jora, bowing profusely, while Buffalo and Baby 5 were trying to wrestle Dellinger into clothing. (Buffalo had a black eye and Baby 5 had a split lip). "He ran off after his bath, and good lord, he's just so fast!"

"Fufufu, I'm hardly concerned, Jora. The boy is doing what he is supposed to be doing at such an age. He's just doing it with five times the strength and energy." And Baby 5," Doflamingo added. "Well done."

"Hmmm, for what?" she asked, wiping blood off her lip and trying to stave off Dellinger's prying teeth with the oven mitts.

"Oh, just your useful timing. You and Dell."

"I was useful?" she said, her eyes bright.

"Yes, just being there, you were indeed," said Doflamingo.

"Was I useful?" said Buffalo, as Dellinger promptly removed the shirt Buffalo had just stuffed him in.

"No," said Jora.

"NOOOO CLOTHESS!" yelled Dellinger.

Doflamingo smiled.

He made sure his children sent a very clear message. Even the smallest family member was not to be trifled with.