Golden Captive

Chapter Ten

Anti Apocolypse

He had lingered in that dreaded palace for three years. Three fucking years. He had been spat on, kicked, trashed, slapped, mocked, and every possible insult known to mankind was spat at him. The people of Dressrosa treated him worse then a Fishman. And he would kill them all for it.

His gun was his ally, his best friend in war and war, his anger was whispered into the trigger and the bullets pierced his victims. He was well known throughout Dressrosa as a killer, one of the worst among Doflamingo's family. He was the bird with a bite that would leave your finger broken.

Since his murdurous rampages, he had grown more distant from the family; disappearing days at a time and hardly speaking to anyone. He'd brush past everyone; even the King and Baby 5. It was like this more many months now. He never showed up at Diner and when someone would enter the Kitchen during the time Crocodile was supposed to prepare the meal, the dishes would be washed and the food was set out, blood-stained paper towels littered the trash can. His arms were covered in scars, although no one knew because he never wore any other kind of shirt that didn't have long sleeves. He was once the crocodile that would bite your hand off if you even made any motion to get closer, now he was broken; his scales ripped from his body and his teeth missing. But that did not stop him from biting.

During those past few months that caused the change in the slave; the King himself, grew even more pissed off by the second.

With Crocodile's attitude, Doflamingo had been sex deprived. Never a good sign. He had been bringing sluts, whores off of every street he could find to try and satisfy his needs. No position, no fetish, no moans brought out the same feeling as when he was screwing his slave. The king swore that when he saw that damned Croc, he'd take them right then and there; in the hallway, the mess room, in public. Fuck them all, he was the god damned king, he could do whatever pleased him. And that was what he would do.

Evening was the only time the slave chose to wander the halls.

Crocodile sat up from his bed, tugging the sleeves of his black shirt down as long as they would go. His gun placed in his back pocket, the edges of his shirt tugged down long enough for it to be hidden from plain sight.

Crocodile didn't bother with putting on anything for his feet. During the past few years, he had actually received a pair of shoes as a present. They were the right size and everything, although Crocodile only wore them when he went out on missions or a job, regular chores weren't good enough for his shoes.

The slave walked out the door, making sure it shut behind him quietly, just incase anyone had retired early. ... Geez, when did he become so considerate.

He began his walk by turning to the right, the quickest way to get to the roof of this mansion. Around this time, most of the family would be at Dinner. Thank you Baby 5 for teaching him how to tell time.

Since he had become "a part of the family", Baby 5 and some of the other members actually taught him a few things that were important if you wanted to become a gangster, or at least a member of Dorlamingo's stupid family. Same thing though. He had learned the alphabet, hot to shoot a gun, weaknesses of the human body so you can land a killing blow, how to correctly spit on someone's grave, how to count, and so many other things. Crocodile believed that some of these things weren't exactly necessary but he had learned them none the less.

Crocodile walked to the door that lead to the Mess Hall, it was loud: although that wasn't unusual. He peered in through the window, he still had to stand on the tips of his toes but he could at least see through the foggy window. Everyone was present, minus Buffalo 'cause he had a cold from there last mission together (and multiple gun shot wounds from Crocodile's gun. He was never the best at controlling his temper). The food he had cooked was already gone for the most part. It was kind of funny actually. When Crocodile first started preparing the food, there was always leftovers, but now, the food is inhaled every night. He had to thank Monet for it, as much as he personally hated to admit that. Baby 5 was his Guinea Pig when it came to actually tasting his food. At the first week, Baby 5 was stuck in bed vomiting. But once she healed, she came wobbling back to Crocodile asking if she could try more of his cooking. Crocodile didn't get it at first and only put his poison food in her mouth to humor her, but it was a huge help and Baby 5 never got food poisoning now. Benefits for everyone he supposed.

Crocodile's eyes wondered up the table, past everyone until he got to the head of the table where the regal king sat. The King was talking to no one in particular, just listening. It was very unlike him, only listening, usually he'd be the one talking at every chance he got. Weird.

Crocodile stood at his regular height, staring at the knob that would open the door for him. He sighed, they hadn't seen him in a while: most of this month actually. God knows Doflamingo was pissed. He only lived once.

Crocodile turned the knob and opened the door, walking in the Mess Hall as though he had done this every night. The other members of the family didn't even notice until Baby 5 shouted, "Croco-chan!".

All eyes were on him.

"Yo." Was all Crocodile said before sitting in the spot where he had sat on his first day as a King's slave.

Baby 5 seemed ecstatic to see him and everyone was just surprised. Crocodile never showed up for Dinner, what made tonight so special?

"You're hair's gotten longer." Baby 5 pointed out.

"Yeah, I was thinking of cutting it soon. It just gets in the way like this." Crocodile stated, taking a strand and rubbing it between his fingers. His hair has grown to the point that it was brushing against his neck. It tickled often and it distracted him.

"I think it suits you." Baby 5 pushed back his hair so no strands were left to block his face. "Especially like this! You look a bit like a crime boss!"

Crocodile chuckled. "I guess I do."

"All you need is a fancy coat and a cigar and you're good!" Baby 5 chuckled.

"And a hook." Crocodile added, raising his stump. "I would want to look intimidating if I'm gonna terrorize kingdoms."

"If you're going to terrorize kingdoms then that hook better be well crafted." Doflamingo plainly added.

"And it should be gold!" Baby 5 said.

"Gold? I dunno." Crocodile muttered. "Where on Earth would a slave be able to get gold aside from stealing it?"

"King's have gold." Doflamingo said.

"But where would we find-" Crocodile covered Baby 5's mouth and stopped her from saying anything else. There was a King sitting right next to them.

When he was sure Baby 5 wouldn't say anything more, he lifted his hand away from her mouth and earned a hard kick from said person in the shin. No one kicks Crocodile in the shin and gets away with it. Not even if you're Baby 5. Crocodile retaliated by shoving his foot hard into Baby 5's knee, causing that knee to painfully hit the other and therefor caused the targeted knee to hit Gladius.

...

Let's just say that Dinner was no Dinner but instead the Civil War. It wasn't Crocodile who caused it, nope. It was the pretty little girl sitting next to him. He swore.

Doflamingo himself, stood and grabbed Crocodile by the shoulder, dragging him behind.

He dragged the other all the way up to the roof of the palace before tossing him onto the shingles.

"That hurt you flamingo bastard!" Crocodile rubbed at his side where the tips of the roof's shingles so kindly stabbed at his frail side.

Doflamingo simply shrugged, tugging his feathered coat before tossing it at the smaller who just barely caught it.

Holding it in his palm, Crocodile looked at Doflamingo who just peered over the side of the roof; gazing at the quiet streets that guided only a few people into the night.

Without a word, Crocodile took the coat and wrapped it around his shoulders, gripping very few fathers with his skinny hands. He enjoyed the feeling of feathers brushing against his bare skin, it calmed him somehow.

"So, I hear you shot a cat from up here." Doflamingo stated suddenly.

Who spilled their guts this time? "It was an accident."

"And three pieces of clothes on some laundry line was an accident too I take it?"

"What do you want?" Crocodile demanded, his face flushed from the embarrassment of being caught in his guilty pleasures.

Doflamingo sat down next to the slave, looking through the lit window that showed the silhouettes of a woman scolding a child, probably because it was past their bed time or they ate candy before going to bed. For shame.

"What? I haven't seen you this past month." The King mocked offense.

"I was thinking."

"Ya sure do that a lot now a days~" Doflamingo tapped a finger on his arm covered by the thin material known as a sleeve. "Thinker." He teased.

"Like you would know what thinking' like." Crocodile swatted Doflamingo's hand away with his own. The King's finger got too close to his stump for him to ignore it.

"I'm offended." The taller said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest, rolling his eyes behind his dark shades.

"You seem to be offended a lot these days." Crocodile flicked Doflamingo's shoulder, payback for his tapping finger. "Get offended."

Doflamingo, however, did not seat Crocodile's hand like Crocodile had done to him. Instead he attempted to strike up some pathetic attempt at a conversation. "Why do you shoot random things at night?"

"What? A slave can't vent his frustrations out in peace?" The once lit window now turned pitch black. Crocodile fished out his gun, making sure there were bullets in it before aiming it at the window, pulling the trigger before the King could stop him from doing anything rash. All that could be heard from the broken window was a child screaming for its mother, screaming sorry for eating candy before bed-time. "Oops." Was all Crocodile said before preparing his gun for anything shot. There were two people down below the roof they were sitting on. No one would miss them.

Crocodile aimed his gun in a position that if he was lucky, which he usually was, he would be able to shoot his bullet through both of their heads. The slave was about to pull the trigger until he felt strings wrap around his hands, suddenly finding his movements being controlled by another. He gave his gun to the other sitting beside him.

"Don't just go killing my people without my permission."

Crocodile sighed. "Oh, so terribly sorry. I'm not used to spectators."

"You're heartless."

Crocodile shrugged. With a quick movement of his fingers, the strings that bound the slave burned away until Crocodile was free to control his own movements. All he did was pull the feathered coat still wrapped around his shoulders closer to his slightly chilled body. He murmured curses under his breath directed straight at the other.

Doflamingo, however, had other plans and instead chose to lean in close to his slave, his breath barely ghosting against Crocodile's bare neck.

"Play a game with me." The King murmured.

"I'm sick of your games."

"If you win, you're free from this place. You would no longer be a slave."

Author's Note

Well; guess what I got involved in again. That's right, it's another play. I'm sorry guys but updates will once again be slow but HEY! IS THAT A PLOT I SEE?!

I just love leaving you guys in cliffhangers and then not updating until it's like a year later!