Marie D. Suesse And The Mystery New Pirate Age!
A Deconstruction, in which knowledge of the works of Alexandre Dumas and typical One Piece OC crew fanfiction would greatly augment the understanding of this chapter.
Chapter 20: Hawker Island
"Something wrong, kiddo? You look down."
Mar had been sitting very quietly next to the Sunny's figurehead, sadly watching the dark landmass that was Hawker Island grow steadily closer. Even from this distance it looked extremely colourful, but the prospect of civilization did nothing to lift her spirits.
"Nothing, Dad."
It was a lie of course. Mar was feeling, as they say, 'emo' after the shocking news she had received earlier. Sure, at least she had made a lot of progress on her 'find out what happened to the Straw-Hats' quest, but the more she found out, the less she liked what she discovered.
Tony-Tony Chopper was dead. Chopper had died years ago.
For a while Mar had been secretly harbouring a suspicion that The Disinfector was actually Chopper. But those two devastating sentences, delivered in that bitter, dead voice, had put an end to that particular suspicion of hers.
Poor Chopper. Poor, poor, adorable little Chopper. Taken by the marines for goodness-knew-what purposes and then dying alone. The thought of it was so horrible it made her sick to her stomach. It was like Gurnarde said, worse than just dying in battle.
"What's with the outfit, anyway?" Mar's dad had sat down next to her, and Mar knew of course he was worrying about her and was trying to make small talk so he could figure it out.
"The Disinfector says I need to look more like a pirate captain."
"Whatever for?"
"Well, something about the next island needing appearances to get by. I think he's planning on using my resemblance to that 'Pirate Queen Madelyn' to keep us from being attacked by other pirates."
Mar sincerely hoped that she did look the part, else she would have gone and raided Nami's wardrobe for nothing. Most of Nami's clothes had turned out been extremely fashionable in a modern kind of way. They certainly seemed rather unpiratey by stereotypical pirate image standards, but she did manage to scavenge a few pieces that would work, including a rather cool-looking red long coat and a yellow-and-gold patterned scarf she had turned into a sash.
Although why she should need a sash was another issue altogether. Pirate fashion isn't always based on practicality. We are talking about a world where people dress up as cats or heavy metal bands for their pirate theme here, after all.
"What, so you're going to pull a Edmond Dantes transformation into the Count of Monte Cristo now?"
"A what-what, Dad?"
"Oh you've forgotten that story already? It's a book, I used to read it to you when you were younger, remember?"
On thinking it over, she did. It was from the time before her parents had started fighting so much and her dad still spent time home with them.
The book was called The Count of Monte Cristo, and it had been exciting, full of pirates and smugglers and evil noblemen. In fact, it had been what had initially sparked her interest in pirate literature, which in turn had led to her interest in One Piece.
Even as she thought of that, her mind began moving faster and another thought struck her.
In The Count of Monte Cristo, the main character, Dantes, had been thrown into prison for like, forever, and on escaping, wanted revenge on the backstabbing friends that had put him there. But that wasn't the important detail that had struck Mar. No, the important point was that Dantes had gone around his hometown as the Count, saying melodramatic stuff like "Edmond Dantes is dead.", all the while planning his revenge and waiting for the best moment to throw off his disguise and declare (much to the horror of the targets of his vengeance) "I am Edmond Dantes!".
It got her thinking: what if the Disinfector's declaration that 'Chopper was dead' be actually more figurative than literal? What if... what if...?
"So you do remember?" her dad was saying, breaking her train of thought.
"Yeah!" Mar said absently, trying to regain her line of reasoning despite the interruption. "Mom used to disapprove... said those kind of books were too bloodthirsty for me—"
Mar abruptly stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth in horror.
Too late. A sudden grimace travelled over her father's face at the mention of her missing mother.
"D-dad..."
How could she have been so careless as to let that slip out? Now her dad was going to break down again and right when they couldn't afford it to boot!
But he didn't break down. He just took several deep breaths. "I haven't forgotten, Mar. I haven't forgotten about your mother."
"I know you didn't, I just..."
"...don't know what to do about getting her back," her dad finished for her.
It was then when Mar surprised herself by suddenly saying in a determined voice that didn't sound quite like herself. "But I think I do."
"What?"
"I have an idea about that guy who took Mom. I think the man you described was a Tennryubito; they're a really select group of royals. And Gurnarde mentioned she might be able to help us out in finding him... maybe if we ask her nicely?"
"Oh her... you might need some stronger persuasion than asking for that, kiddo."
"Guess we'll have to think of something." Mar paused for a moment. The ship was almost next to the Hawker Island docks and she could hear Walker's grunts as he guided Branchy into position.. "But the first thing we ought to do is get The Sunny fixed. Right now, without a working ship we're sitting ducks for whoever comes after us next."
"Ugh, I abhor Hawker Island."
Mar agreed whole-heartedly with Gurnarde. The crew of the Sunny had been on the island for the whole of an hour now, and Mar was already desperately wishing they could find a shipwright and get out ASAP.
It didn't help that the arrival of Mar and crew had been unavoidably flashy: The famed Thousand Sunny with the legendary 'Pirate Queen' on board had been sailed into harbour. Towed in by a freaking sea-king, as if that wasn't conspicious enough!
Mar didn't know it then, but news of Imba's defeat had filtered through ahead of them, and the rumours had been steadily growing out of control. As a result, gawkers had lined up on the sides of the pier to watch them dock. Fortunately Hawker Island was also the kind of place where a low profile really wasn't necessary. There is a reason for that, but I think Mar's dad put it best:
"Wow. It's like a careers fair for pirates over here."
Which should succinctly explain why Hawker Island is called so, and no, it's not because the people of the island hunt with birds of prey as pets. Hawker Island, like the Tortuga of our world, is a prime shopping point for pirate crews. Not just for stuff, but manpower. Pirates from all over the Grand Line flock to this place to recruit or be recruited.
"It's Monkey D. Madelyn!"
"Has the Pirate Queen come to expand her crew?"
"What a great opportunity! Pirate Queen! I'm applying!"
"I'm not—" began Mar in what was by now, her customary protest.
Of course no one was paying any attention to what she was actually saying. They were too busy doing what most people who like jumping on bandwagons do: They were 'sucking up' to Mar in hopes of joining her crew and basking in her reflected glory.
"Pirate Queen Madelyn, I am Storm Argentum Skyblade. I'm a great fan of yours, and I'd be honoured if you'd consider my submission to be a member of your crew!" A thick booklet that looked rather like a refrigerator manual was being offered to Mar by a rather pompous pirate who had stepped forward from the crowd. "I've attached my bounty poster at the back for further reference, in case you need it. I think the picture in particular, is..."
"Take mine too! I'm Aluara and I'm your biggest supporter!" another girl screamed, and tossed a bundle of papers in their direction.
"And mine!" The pages were beginning to rain down like oversized confetti.
Mar opened her mouth to explain she wasn't the pirate queen and she wasn't recruiting, but the Disinfector, perhaps fearing that she wouldn't sound pirate captain-y enough, stepped in.
"NO CROWDING. ALL SUBJECTS ARE TO MAINTAIN A DISTANCE of 0.9 METERS FROM THE CAPTAIN AT ALL TIMES."
Without missing a beat, the assembled crowd immediately shifted their attention to Mar's dad. You might think this is odd, but you might want to take a step back and consider what Mar's landing party looked like from an outsider's point of view.
First you had Mar, who thanks to her innate resemblance to Monkey D. Madelyn, plus a quick makeover and the Straw-Hat, did look like a passable pirate captain. She also happened to be flanked by three very dangerous-looking people: The Disinfector, Walker and Gurnarde. As you all know, The Disinfector and 'Sand-Dragon' Gurnarde in particular were rather infamous already. Pretty much everyone on the island knew them and their bounties, so that made Mar seem even more dangerous by association.
And then last of all, you had this relatively harmless-looking man following at the back of the group.
Perhaps it was because Mr. Suesse wore glasses and people tend to assume that any bespectacled person following a person of power must be their P.A. or secretary. Whatever the reason, the bewildered man quickly found himself inundated in a flood of papers passed from about a dozen scrambling hands.
"Mr. Secretary, pass my submission to the Pirate Queen!"
"Take mine!"
"And mine too!" screeched the girl who had earlier professed to be Pirate Queen's greatest fan.
Gurnarde, who had been steadily getting pricklier and pricklier as they were crowded, evidently decided that this was quite enough. Her spiny wing-fins suddenly unfurled in the manner of a peacock. Except that in this case the 'peacock' had very painful spikes on each of its 'tail-feathers'.
"The captain has urgent matters to attend to," said she, deliberately backing her fins into a pirate or two who had gotten too close. Shrieks of pain could be heard. "Remove your presences from her demesne and let us be about our business."
Walker followed her example by flexing his venomous spines, which very quickly solved the crowding issue. The horde prudently backed away and gave them all a bit of breathing space.
"Thanks," said Mr. Suesse, who was curiously examining the reams of paper that had been tossed at him. "Huh, look! They even have pirate resumés."
"Rest-sue-mays?"
"Really?"
Mar's dad proceeded to hand her a few samples. "See for yourself."
Curiously Mar scanned the sheet. Anyone observing her face would have noticed her eyebrows raising higher and higher until it disappeared behind her bangs. I would endeavor to explain why, but the next part of dialogue would quite sufficiently explain her eyebrow elevation anyway so I shan't bother.
"You're right, dad. It is a resumé." Mar paused and frowned. "Argentum... Aluara O' Justice... Rue Evergreen... Okay, I get why they'd have their names and ages in there, but why in the world would anyone need to put down out their entire life story and dream in their resumé?"
"There appear to be an abnormally high number of dead relatives and tragic childhoods in background sections," was the Disinfector's comment.
"I also have doubts on the accuracy of those bounty numbers. And the veracity of their self-descriptions: 'calm and collected even in tight situations'... 'strong sense of justice'... 'funny sense of humour'... 'a fearsome fighter second to none'..." Gurnarde snorted from where she was reading over Mar's shoulder. "I would prefer to be the judge of that when I slit your throat, thank you. Hmph, what kind of foolishness must one have to divulge in detail their abilities, devil-fruits and weaknesses to random strangers? It boggles the mind."
"Hm. What's an 'attack name'?" asked Mar's dad. "Is this some kind of default template for pirate resumés?"
Fortunately Mar was spared having to explain the rather ludicrous shonen practice of yelling out attack names, as at the moment Walker calmly leaned over, plucked the 'pirate resumés' out of both their hands, then calmly and methodically tore them to itty-bitty shreds.
"Little hunams not standing reading papers. Finding ship fixing now. Walker not liking island, want go." the fishman grunted firmly.
It had to be said, no one disagreed with that course of action.
"She's quite a mess, but I'm pretty sure I can have her fixed up in a couple of days... it'll cost'cha a mint though," the old gnarled shipwright said as they walked from the dock where the battered Thousand Sunny had just been examined. A glint of greed appeared in the seasoned craftsman's eye as he took Mar and her 'crew' in. "I take beli, dials, ancient treasure, seastone and any kind of building materials in trade. So watcha got?"
After some preliminary haggling in the shipwright's yard, the amount of beli and treasure they had on board the Sunny turned out to be not nearly enough. Passionate entreaties turned out to have no effect on old man, who was similarly unmoved by their reputations.
"Those wiles of yours won't be working on me, missy. And it's no use trying to look scary over there, you three," he added, with a nod at the trio of Disinfector, Gurnarde and Walker, "I know the bounties on yer heads all right, but let me tell you now I'm the only shipwright on this island that knows jack about the job. Off me and ya'll be stuck with the half-baked know-naughts over yonder. Be lucky if yer ship even reaches the next island."
The shapely and extremely overdressed shipwright manning the yard next door scowled back in their direction. They had walked away from her earlier when a cursory chat with her had revealed she didn't even know what a keel or rudder was.
"Well, if ya'll can't pay, then get moving on. I'm a businessman, not a bleeding heart charity case!"
"Avaricious, wealth-grubbing Long-arms," muttered Gurnarde as they turned away. She had sobered up remarkably quickly on reaching the island, but there were some remnants of 'tipsy' from her previous drinking binge. "I despise them."
"We'll have to find some way of scrounging enough money," said Mar, already trying very hard to think of a plan. She tried to remember how the adventurers in the storybooks and Saturday morning cartoons raised funds. For some reason the only ones she could remember all seemed to involve winning some tournament or arena thing with prize money. Maybe they ought to look around the island and see if there was one on-going...
"... Dad, you coming?"
Mr. Suesse had not followed them. Instead, he was still standing and gazing at something in the shipwright's workshop, a furrow in his brow.
"What are you staring at my safe for?" demanded the shipwright irritably. "If you're thinking of breaking in, don't bother. Ain't gonna happen. Now get out!"
"Sorry, I was just noticing well... you don't keep anything important in that archaic safe of yours, do you?"
"What's it to you what I keep in there? The thing's made of reinforced steel almost a foot thick, even a devil-fruit user would have trouble breaking it."
Mr. Suesse gave a polite little cough. "A safe's only as good as the lock on it."
"Lock's fine!"
"For about all of five minutes until someone cracks it."
"Yeah right. That's a nine-dial combination lock! Hell, even I have trouble opening the damn thing, much less a thief!"
"Well— if you're confident enough to bet on that hunk of metal for false security, suit yourself."
A glint suddenly appeared in long-arm tribesman's eye. "Are you telling me I'm stupid and my safe's no good? Well, tell you what Mr. Know-It-All, are you willing to put your money where your mouth is? You try and open my safe in five minutes! You do it within that time, I'll forgo the difference and fix that damn ship of yours. You lose, you fork over all ya'll got right now."
"Absolutely not."
A smirk appeared on the shipwright's face. "Thought so." He then proceeded to call Mr. Suesse a very rude name.
Unfazed, Mr. Suesse crossed his arms. "The amount you quoted us was barely 20 percent more than the amount we already have! With that kind of stakes, it's not worth the wager. What kind of fool do you take me for?"
The shipwright glared at Mr. Suesse. "Are you sure you ain't hiding a pair of extra elbows there? You bargain like a Long-Arm."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Fine! I'll match what you offered me earlier in beli if you win. And fix your ship. But if you lose, I get to keep your ship as salvage."
"Dad!" protested Mar in alarm, breaking the stunned silence she and the rest of the crew had been watching the exchange in. "We can't bet the Sunny..."
Mr. Suesse raised his hand. "It's ok, kiddo. I got this one."
"'Hundred fifty-six seconds..." muttered the shipwright in disbelief as he counted out the money five minutes later. "A hundred and fifty-six seconds!"
"Well, that looks like the agreed-upon amount. Thank you very much," Mar's dad replied genially. "Now, about getting our ship fixed..."
"Yes. Yes. Long-Arms don't back out of business deals," said the shipwright grudgingly. "Fine then. Go move your ship over here to be fixed. The sooner you lot sail off the sooner I'll never have to see your faces again." And with that he almost shoved them out of the door.
"Charming man," commented Gurnarde after they left the shipyard.
"Impressive negotiations, Locksmith Suesse," the Disinfector added.
"Thanks. I'd make a killing working as a security consultant here. Their lock technology's stuck in the middle-ages."
"You would make a terrifying cat burglar, actually. I cannot fathom how you were able bypass the safe's mechanism so quickly."
Mar's father suddenly gave an abashed grin. "Actually, I could have opened it even faster, but I didn't want him to suspect."
"Suspect what, Dad?"
Mr. Suesse coughed. "Well, I was already pretty sure I could break into that safe, but as it turns out I didn't have to. Man had the combination jotted down on one of his schematic boards on the wall."
"Seriously, dad?"
"He mentioned he combination being so difficult he was having trouble remembering it himself, remember? Never underestimate the stupidity of convenience. In my experience, people in that situation often do something idiotic like writing down their passcode steps somewhere, just to keep from forgetting and locking themselves out. Series of nine numbers on the board? It was rather obvious."
"Dad, have I mentioned how freaking awesome you are?"
"Thanks kiddo. I figure I ought to get serious about pulling my own weight in getting your mom back. Mr. Suesse paused and held up the bag of beli he had won from the shipwright. "On that note, Disinfector, you seem like someone who would know about this kind of thing: I have a favour to ask. I need to get a good gun..."
"Strange, I don't remember there being this many ships around when we docked." Mar commented, looking around at harbour. A whole new fleet of ships had taken up position some distance offshore.
The Disinfector and her father had detoured into a gunsmith's shop while Mar, Gurnarde and Waker went ahead to move the ship. Mar had been rather taken-aback at her father's sudden resolve to being armed. It was so unlike her perception of her kindly, distant and determinedly unconfrontational father that she couldn't help but feel a little strange about the change.
"Many ships not being here before," Walker replied to her observation. "Branchy not liking."
Which was true. The sea-beast-of-burden they had left guarding the Sunny was chafing at its harnesses, clearly not at ease with the new arrivals.
"Walker is not liking too."
"Be wary! I perceive more of your adoring fanatics approaching, Captain."
"Oh great. Just great," groaned Mar as the crowd rushed towards them, screaming wildly in excitement.
"There she is!"
"It's her! The Pirate Queen!"
"Take me!"
"No, take me!"
Within seconds, they were surrounded, and just like before, a hooded man, filled with self-importance, stepped foward from the crowd. Mar braced herself for another pompous speech from another crew-mate wannabe.
"Monkey D. Madelyn? I am Sq—"
"We're not recruiting," both Mar and Gurnarde said in unison, cutting him off.
But the man seemed completely unruffled by the rejection.
"I wasn't asking to come along with you," said the man, flipping back his hood to reveal his flowing locks of long, unnaturally green hair. "In fact, you could say it's the other way around. You're coming with me."
"I do believe the captain is not in the habit of taking orders from random viridian-tressed dandies," Gurnarde informed him snidely, twirling her trident as she did so.
"Back off, mermaid. Let me put this in terms your little fish-brain can understand:" The man pointed at Mar. "Hand her over, and you and that walking turd won't end up stuffed fish-fillet like the rest of your species."
A very dangerous look appeared on the mermaid's countenance as behind her, 'the walking turd' growled.
"Oh? You, and what armada, kelpling?"
"This one," the man shot back triumphantly, and fired a smoke flare up into the sky.
It was obviously a pre-arranged signal; the standards on the many ships that were waiting offshore quickly unfurled in response. And one by one, they all revealed the same symbol that signified their allegiance: a smiling face surrounded by T's.
"Gurnarde, Walker, this is bad!" whispered Mar as she recognised the symbol.
The man smiled coldly at her alarm. "Oh yes, it is. I never did introduce myself properly, did I?
"I am 'Death Mist' Squall, first mate of the Heart Pirates. Now come quietly along, or die."
End of Chapter 20