Rondinium is clearly a city full of intricate and pointless social customs. The amount of time the Wigrams spend on taking a walk "the right way"—stopping to greet everyone, never walking over anything less than pristine sidewalks, slow and unhurried steps—means that dusk falls before they make it anywhere. She's tempted to throw a rock at the next person that wants to stop for a chat about the weather.
"Go away," she snaps for the fifth time.
"How could I possibly leave such a lovely lady such as yourself to the cold night air?" Her annoying companion smiles while dabbing at his bleeding nose.
She grips the fan in her hand hard enough to hear a worrying crack. No one would know if she got rid of the man permanently, but as alluring as the idea is, she isn't a murderer. She can't kill people for annoying her. She's already hit the man three times for calling her a whore; any more than that is probably crossing a line somewhere.
"Why are you following me?" She asks with a huff.
"You have my interest," the man answers honestly. "Why are you following those two gulpies around?" He asks in turn while pointing to the Wigram siblings.
"They're my bait," she answers simply.
The man raises an eyebrow but says nothing more. She and her unwanted companion continue tailing the Wigrams into a less busy part of the city, and the searing looks aimed her way lessen. Carriages stop rolling by, and the streets get darker. If there's ever a better time to jump someone, than she doesn't know it.
"I never introduced myself. I am Bean," the man says, jabbing a thumb towards himself.
Deciding to imitate a woman she saw earlier, she raises her nose and huffs. The man makes a face at her clear dismissal.
"Blast it all, the name is Clarence, but my friends call me 'Bean,' " the man admits.
"Well, I'm not your friend, Clarence," she says.
A scream interrupts their banter. She locates the source; it's Edna. A horned shadow cackles as the woman falls to the ground next to a groaning Ferdinand, and fire starts flying over their heads. Damn it, she thinks, I was distracted.
Letting out a curse, she kicks off her stilts with haste. Tossing her coat and fan to the gaping Clarence, she rips off the heaviest parts of her skirts and rushes towards the shadow. There's no chance to draw Tsubasa de Tobu before the devil figure flees, and she gives chase.
She's never been more thankful for her boots; the shadow's high heels click loudly against the cobblestone, and she can't fathom how they're running so smoothly. Her target jumps onto the roof of a nearby building, and she takes a running leap after. She manages to grab the edge and has to heave herself up. By the time she gets her footing, the devil figure is already on a different roof. Judging from the gaps between buildings, following will be difficult but doable. She takes a leap onto the next roof.
For some reason, every house has a lit chimney, and smoke covers the brick rooftops in a haze. She has trouble keeping up, and her opponent might as well be a giant flea with how they jump. She grits her teeth as it begins to take longer to figure out which direction to go in. She stumbles on an uneven brick, and the chase ends in her loss.
Despite her best efforts, she loses her quarry against the night sky and the smoke that covers the rooftops. Leaning against a chimney, she wipes the sweat out her eyes wearily. Her glove which is filthy smudges her face with dirt. This is not her best moment by far.
"There you are! Golly, you can move for someone so small."
Tsubasa de Tobu is halfway out of its scabbard before she realizes the one sneaking up on her is Clarence. The man raises both hands in surrender and gives her a winning smile. She narrows her eyes as she realizes the one sneaking up on her is Clarence.
"You have thirty seconds to explain how you followed me," she says, sword still partially drawn.
A normal, average person of Angle Island means, from what she can see, to be utterly useless. Her target is supposedly a devil, and her own superhuman abilities are thanks to training and technique. No normal person could have kept up with her.
"I've got ways," Clarence tells her with a cheeky smile.
"And I've got ways to make you talk," she utters while drawing more of her sword pointedly.
"My lovely lady, there's no need to get violent. If you really desire to know then follow me," Clarence says before jumping to the next roof.
The way the man's feet move while leaping is exactly like the devil that got away. She follows after, irritated at how much easier it must be for someone with long legs. She refrains from punching Clarence in the stomach whenever he waits for her to catch up but only just.
They stop before a suspicious-looking hatch on the roof of a rundown building. Opening it, Clarence gestures her inside. She allows herself a moment to ponder how foolish she is before jumping down. She shouldn't invite trouble so obviously.
(In Clarence's opinion, he's the one inviting trouble; she has a sword.)
Whatever she was expecting, an attic with old-fashioned tools and materials cluttering around shabby furniture is not it. She inspects a box full of metal springs before looking at something resembling a modified blowtorch. The place looks like a workshop of some sort.
"Welcome to the Hideout!" Clarence exclaims dramatically.
Ignoring him, she pokes around the attic some more. There's a box of ruined shoes, various saws, and many cans of black paint. Black horned masks of varying style—finished and unfinished—lie in every nook and cranny.
She drops into a patchwork chair with her arms crossed and waits. Clarence sits across from her in a chair of a completely different style, and she notices his shoes look like the ruined ones in the box once he crosses his legs.
"I knew there was something off about you, but I never imagined you were a foreign midget! An indecent one at that!" Clarence nods towards her uncovered legs.
"I'm currently thinking about kicking your ass," she says warningly.
"Calm my lovely lady, I am simply jesting," Clarence smiles before getting serious. "You are not the first foreigner I have had the pleasure of meeting. Indeed, one can't miss them at the docks, but this is the first time I have seen a foreigner impersonate one of us."
"It was this or go around as an 'angel,' " she says wryly.
"Angel? Now this sounds like an interesting tale. Let us exchange stories. Confide in me about the disguise, and I will tell you everything about the devil, Springy Jack," Clarence says.
Information for information, she tells herself. With a sigh, she gives an abridged and somewhat edited explanation. Clarence doesn't need to know where or why she fell from the sky, but there's a reason the Wigrams mistook her for something other than human.
"Those gulpies think you? Are an angel? Khuhuhuhu," Clarence laughs until he cries.
"And now I'm trying to stop the attacks before someone gets hurt. A deal's a deal, tell me why you've brought me to the devil's hideout," she says.
It's a guess, but it's a good one. She would have assumed Clarence to be the devil in question if it wasn't for the fact that both were in her sight at the same time. Clarence covers his mouth to hide his grimace, and she makes a show of cracking her knuckles.
"No need for uncouth behavior. I would have never brought you here if I had no intention of telling you," Clarence says with a sigh. "Truth be told, you are the only one who kept up so well with Jackie. I wanted to ask—wanted to hope you can stop her without resorting to violence."
"Her?" She prods.
Clarence fumbles inside his ragged coat to bring out a small framed picture of a woman. She leans forward to get a better look. Brown hair tied into a loose ponytail and a beautiful face marred with sun damage and scars—there's no way this is a rich woman.
"I met her when I was in disguise in the slums. I went looking for a good place to get drunk," Clarence admits. "God save you if you try to save yourself from getting dry around these fine, top-lofty gentlemen around here."
Clarence had been wandering around when he saw a woman getting publicly humiliated by the men and women in the street. The woman, Jackie, was in desperate straits, and her first attempt at prostitution didn't go over well. He had been intrigued by the way the woman remained standing tall in a ripped up dress while everyone demonized her.
"I offered my arm, and she kept me company while I was powdering my hair. Once the drinks knocked me out, she stole my wallet and my heart," Clarence says.
It was a slow process, but Clarence kept going back to Jackie, kept bothering her until she stopped running away. He helped her find income in making shoes, and she stopped trying to sell her body. According to Clarence, he'd fallen hard enough for the strong-willed woman that he'd been prepared to marry her despite the class difference.
"But she desired revenge on those that wronged her. The more money she started earning, the more those same people that wronged her held their hands out, and the more she planned to hurt them," Clarence says before admitting, "and I helped her do it. I believed it was only right for me to do so."
The creation of Springy Jack was a joint project between the two; it was supposed to only be a prank—at least on Clarence's part. They took turns being "Jack" and spooking the wrongdoers. Then Jackie slowly began upping the viciousness of the "prank" before setting her sights on the wealthy.
"But why only women? Men had to have hurt her too," she asks.
"For all her bravery over the rooftops, Jackie is too afraid of men to target them. Of course, I am not. There are several fine gentlemen that drank themselves stupid because of me. They are just too proud to admit it," Clarence brags before covering his mouth. "But this has gone too far. She targets more than the guilty. This is no longer justice."
"Vengeance can never be justice. Justice requires an emotional distance, and those feelings can't factor in," she says. "I'm not saying there's anything wrong with revenge though."
The desire to hurt those that cause pain, to hurt those same people who turn around and demand—she understands it. She understands the resentment towards those in better positions in life. He's been there before in another life. Jackie undoubtedly feels like this is her chance to drag everyone down with her instead of raising herself up.
"When I saw you by yourself, I thought she was going to target you. It was my hope that I would scare you off," Clarence says wryly while poking at his swollen nose.
She snorts. It would take more than a sleazy, overbearing man to scare her. Of course, that's probably because Clarence wasn't wearing a top hat. Ferdinand's appearance had frightened her when she thought he was a supernatural being—oh, that's an idea.
"How fast can you make a mask?" She asks suddenly.
"I am quite good at it now. It should only be a couple of hours. Why?" Clarence asks.
...
She adjusts the black mask over her face while staring at the shoe shop below. The rubbery texture is both form fitting and surprisingly breathable. The mask itself looks like a man's face that's slightly off, and she tries not to bump the horns into her top hat.
Playing with the mask keeps her from pulling at the vest and coat over her bound chest. Honestly, while she thought women's dresses here were uncomfortable, she never imagined the tight-fitting men suits to be just as bad. Admittedly, her black cape is awesome and jumping with pants is easier.
The sound of a bell chime from the shop alerts her. She holds absolutely still as a brown-haired woman with a scarred face leaves only to suddenly stop in the street. She keeps from staring directly at Jackie, and the woman looks around before moving at a brisk pace. She takes a running leap onto another roof and follows.
Let the act begin, she thinks.
With it being dusk, plenty of people are leaving work and milling about. She'd be worried about being found out, but almost everyone keeps to a brisk pace with their heads down. No one looks up, and she hides behind chimneys or moves to different roofs whenever it looks her target is about to.
It's strangely exciting to stalk Jackie who keeps looking over her shoulder, and she wonders if enjoying the thrill of the chase makes her a creep. Well, she supposes it doesn't matter when her mission is to be as creepy as possible.
Jackie walks around in circles before making for the Hideout. People begin thinning out, and the sky grows darker. Chimneys begin pouring out smoke, and she takes it as a sign to act. If she lets Jackie make it to the Hideout, she'll have to do this again, and she's not sure her lungs can handle another round.
Her target makes the mistake of taking a shortcut through an alleyway, and she jumps off the roof to the dirty cobblestone below. Landing behind the woman, she sweeps Jackie's legs from under her before she can turn around. She covers the woman's mouth before she can scream.
"Did you think you could use the devil's image and not suffer the consequences?" She purrs lowly into Jackie's ears.
She's thankful for her black, leather gloves. Jackie's attempts to bite through her fingers fail. She presses on a point on the woman's neck with her other hand, and Jackie goes rigid.
"You made me. Your hate. Your envy. They created the devil, and the more fear you spread, the stronger I become," she whispers with her best gravelly voice.
She lets go of Jackie's neck to drag a thumb down her spine, careful to keep her touch from being sexual. Let the woman think otherwise, but she wants it on record that she didn't actually go there. Though from what Clarence told her, Jackie's victims would want her to suffer in that way.
Moving her hand from Jackie's mouth to her jaw, she moves the woman's face towards her and whispers,
"Look at me. Look at what awaits you in the dark."
She breathes fire and hisses words of dark promise. She throws the woman down and jumps to the roof directly above them when it looks like Jackie's about to faint. Tall buildings are made for tall people, and if she actually takes an extra step or two to get to the roof, well, the cape hides it.
She lets out one last blast of fire that lights up the street like the sun and cackles before booking it. Shouts and alarm bells ring out, and she doesn't slow down for anything. The smoke covering the rooftop obscures her figure, and she fades away into the night.
...
"Bean boy, you really should try my pa's remedy. It'll cure it right quick!" A man says to the groaning Clarence on the ground.
"It'll cure you alright. You'll be dead before noon," another man scoffs while dragging an unmoving man out the bar's door.
"Give me the remedy then," Clarence moans. "Let me die."
"Don't you do it! That's my best paying customer! He pays his tabs unlike some of you bastards," the barkeeper yells from inside.
As one, the men still conscious rub their heads and complain about unpleasant voices. Passersby hold their noses up at the drunkards stumbling out of the bar first thing in the morning, and the men that still hold a shred of dignity left sneer back with rude gestures.
"You."
A voice full of venom spits out, causing every man outside the bar to flinch. One reflexively raises his arms to cover his face. A woman with puffy, red eyes stomps over to Clarence who remains lying on the ground and looms.
"It was you," Jackie cries, pointing viciously. "You did it! You fucking piece of shit."
"Oh come now, my dear. No need for such talk," Clarence says mildly with a wince.
"This man is Springy Jack! He attacked me last night!" Jackie shrieks causing everyone to clap their hands over their ears.
"Jackie, whatcha talking about? Bean was drinking with us last night. He passed right out on the bar table. Barkeep actually let him sleep there all night. Wonder if he's sweet on him or his money?" One of the men informs her before rubbing his face in speculation.
"Then you must have gotten someone else to do it! Where are the shoes?" Jackie hisses.
"You mean these? I had 'em on all last night. Ask anyone," Clarence lifts a foot before shrugging as the other men make sounds of agreement.
"The torch—" Jackie tries.
"We're down to one and you have it, remember? Mine broke," Clarence says cheerfully before groaning.
"Bean, what's she spouting off?" One of the men asks before slumping against the brick wall.
"Pay her no mind. She's had a fright. Or maybe she's frightened herself? Cause Springy Jack ain't real," Clarence says, waving a hand.
The men make dismissive sounds, and Jackie leaves in a huff. There's a scared look to the woman's eyes though. Jackie stops suddenly and rubs her arms as if cold. The woman looks behind her, and upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary, nearly runs back to Clarence in tears.
She eyes the couple over her fan as a tearful Jackie clings to the groaning Clarence. Clarence will have his hands full for the next day or so, and Jackie will be too scared to hang out of rooftops. She smirks; these two morons deserve everything they get.
She wobbles off on her stilts, taking care not to step on her new dress. She's got a mask to bloody up and show the Wigrams. If she can get her hand on a pig or something, perhaps she can gore it up and claim she slew the devil. Even better, she can set the evidence on fire when they're not looking and—hm, maybe she's gotten a taste for being a creep after all.
Oh well, she'll hold off on demanding payment as long as she gets proper reactions.
...
"How's the girlfriend treating you?" She asks, watching the duck-like creatures waddle by.
She's never seen a duck with a turtle shell before, but it's cute. Maybe she can take one with her when she leaves. The tiny animals hop into the lake and swim off.
"Hah, getting her to go to work was an event I would like to forget. She is completely and utterly terrified. I will be escorting her home from now on," Clarence says, pretending to read the newspaper beside her.
With the two of them sitting on the same park bench, it would apparently be scandalous if Clarence looked anything more than uninterested in her. She can't even attempt to understand this society's rules. If it wasn't for the Wigrams' insistence in housing her, she'd already be back in her kimono, sleeping in a hotel, and walking around like a barbarian.
Bored out of her mind, she attempts to read the front of the newspaper out of the corner of her eye. She freezes when she notices something out of place. She cranes her neck for a better view.
"Wait. Give me that," she demands before snatching the newspaper from Clarence's hands.
"How rude," the man pouts.
She ignores him, looking at the date printed on the newspaper. She stares, blinks, and then stares some more. The date never changes.
"Is this really today's date?" She asks to make sure.
"Yes?" Clarence answers with bewilderment.
No matter which way she looks at it, today's date is the day she set sail for the Grand Line. She reads through the entire newspaper and realizes that everything looks eerily familiar. She's read this same global newspaper, she's sure of it. She wracks her brain on how that could be.
That or it'll send you back in time, Shoya had said before launching her off Cherub Island.
"I've gone back in time," she says dazedly.
This world is just crazy enough to do that to her. She stares up at the sky in wonderment and attempts to think things through. Time travel is a serious idea—so many things need to be accounted for. There are paradoxes to think about, and the fact that two of her currently exist…
"I can still stop that letter to Mihawk!" She slams a first against the park bench in realization.
The new cover was done by alluka-jpg from tumblr. They also made another fanart image that has Kuina and Zoro (and Mini-Mihawk)! You can find a direct link to the post on the Ao3 version of chapter 14. There's a link to a fan-made side-story for chapter 5 there as well, thanks again Gerbilfriend!