Author's Note:
This one is a bit later then intended, on account of the ongoing situation in the world today. Had to move out of my dorm early, and on top of that I got knocked out by a bad bug for a while.
I'm going to try out a new schedule. A thousand words a day, for two weeks. 14K chapters on the bi-weekly reg. I can't pump out 30K giants like some other fanfic authors I know, not without a month or two of effort, and it's more important to me that you guys get to read this as regularly as possible. I hope my work can take your minds off of what's been going on lately.
Shout out to all my followers!
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Every last one of you is awesome, and I hope you're all enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it.
I also want to give a special shout out to EXNativo for his exquisite editing. An Inkbolt chapter isn't complete without his polishing.
There's a lot more to cover before we get to the Grand Line, but the path is open and we are charging full speed ahead!
Yeomanaxel, the Verified Yeo.
Chapter 17 – Opportunistic Justice
Marine competence ranged wildly from branch to branch, ocean to ocean. It was the great lament of many good soldiers to be saddled with a poor commander, and the inverse was often just as true.
Commodore Nelson Royale, the Eighth Branch's commander, was a dichotomy of excess and excellence. He claimed to be of royal lineage, one he took so much pride in he'd changed his name to reflect his status. But not a single soldier under his command could tell you which line he was from specifically. Such details were, in Nelson's own words, "pitiful trifles you needn't concern yourselves with. Now fetch me another steak!"
Nelson could not walk, restricted to an ornate red throne. His distended stomach filled it completely, a testament to his voraciousness. It was so large that Lieutenant Commander Hardy had estimated half a squad could squeeze into it, should the Commodore ever decide to feast upon his men. The unlucky grunts that emptied the throne's septic tank were certain he already had. How else to explain the disappearance of some of their smallest chore boys?
But astonishingly, the Commodore was proud of his morbid obesity, so much so he'd had the Marine sigil tattooed on his gut. It sat right under the gilded ruby he claimed as proof of his royal status, the centerpiece of a greasy necklace that disappeared into the folds of his neck. Or chins, it was hard to tell one from the other. His face was a red and sweaty ruin, cheeks marked with strange crimson swirls that squirmed when he laughed, and a thin mustache curled out from each side of his head, which Nelson had a fondness of stroking with his perpetually food-stained fingers.
Despite these features, as well as the odious manner in which he treated his caretakers, most Marines were quite happy to have him as their commander, for one simple reason.
He didn't lose.
Over five dozen flags hung within the halls of his ship, every last one of them earned through his tactical savvy and specialized fleet formations. No pirate crew had ever managed to slip around his Sneaky Snake, break through his Crane Wing, or endure the onslaught of his Roaring Tiger.
The Crane Wing was a personal favorite, a defensive position employing a half-ring of man o'wars, the space between them filled with connected iron chains that entangled anything that came against it. Perfect for stopping an enemy pirate fleet in its tracks or blockading an island's harbor.
As for mop-up operations…well, Volta would have had only one word to describe the tactics employed had he seen them. Blitzkrieg.
After securing the elevator, the pirate's command center was swiftly dispatched, and Marines flooded the island proper. What followed was nothing short of a revolution. As soon as the citizens saw the storm of white, black and blue, they turned on their pirate patrols and brought them down. If the Marines were here, then the great key was safe. The Bear King had been defeated.
The Trump's lackeys came to the same conclusion, and most surrendered. For many new recruits to the crew, this was nothing short of the apocalypse, while more seasoned hands were already making plans to plead their cases before the court. Surely one didn't get set to Impel Down for the crime of walking around with a rifle. Most had never needed to fire them.
Pin Joker woke up in the town's hospital around the same time Marines crashed through his door, guns leveled.
"Damn," the bandaged swordsman groaned, hands rising. "I'm cucked."
The Marine squad leader blinked. "I believe the word you're looking for is fucked, bud."
The castle, what was left of it anyway, was secured soon after the city. The four Trumps were gathered up, seastone cuffs given to them all just to be on the safe side. They were all on their feet now, battered and broken, the King a sobbing wreck. Volta felt no pity, only watched to see if the massive man would use his strength to make a break for it. But he didn't, his spirit broken. Along with most of his ribs.
And the Marines just kept on coming.
"There must be thousands now," Zoro said. "How big was the fleet you called in?"
"The one that patrols this area is the Eight Branch," Borodo replied. "They were always ready to pounce the moment the Bear and his siblings went down."
Drogon laughed. "Well, all's well that ends well."
"Mister Drogon, sir?" A young Marine ran up to him, cradling a twisted hunk of gold with a few broken jewels in it. "We were able to recover the Diamond Clock. To the best of our ability."
The martial artist gaped like a fish out of water, eyes bulging. "Best of your ability?! BEST OF YOUR ABILITY?! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Ffffphahahahahaha!" Volta collapsed, tears streaming from his eyes. Borodo started laughing too. So did Buki. So did Drogon, but it was more sobbing than anything else.
Slasher shrugged. "Hey, thirty-eight and a half mil, guys. You're right Drogon, all's well that does end well."
"FUCK YOU!"
Another Marine ran up, one wearing a coat. Between that and his mustache, he looked very in charge. "Thank you all for your services here today. Due to the immediacy of the call, we don't have the bounty money on hand, but if you give us your snail number, we can send you a code you can renew at a Marine base anywhere in the Crebe Region."
Slasher nodded. "Sounds good. Just glad to be getting paid this time."
Volta perked his ears as Slasher gave the number. Huh, it was just like a regular cellphone number. That wouldn't be hard to remember.
"Oh? Another officer skimped out on you guys? That's illegal."
"There was a whole thing." Slasher waved his hands. "Nobles were involved."
The officer frowned. "Were you the guys that tried to catch Dareda? I heard about that."
"It was a terrible job," Slasher grumbled. "I'll never take another on that island. Marines can't even step on it because of some bullshit a World Noble pulled years ago."
The officer tensed, eyes darting to his men nearby. But Slasher had spoken quietly, and none were in earshot. He relaxed. "Well, good news on that front. Another World Noble was there at the time, and he revoked the protection. That kingdom is practically a police state now, at least until we figure out just what the hell's been happening there, and who we need to arrest. I suspect most of those nobles and their army is getting sent off somewhere."
Slasher narrowed his eyes. "Yeah…somewhere, huh?"
The officer shrugged. "Well, that's not my region, so I shouldn't say much. Lieutenant Commander Hardy, by the way. I hope we can work together sometime in the future. You hunters seem decent. Can't say that for most of 'em."
He walked away, most of the castle's forces cuffed in front of him. They marched in a long line, the siblings at its head, down the mountain and back to the elevator. No mines went off. Had someone deactivated them?
Volta wasn't sure, but it didn't matter that much. His mind turned to other things. Other explosive things. He took out his scabbard, studying it.
"Borodo, where's Akisu?"
The thief pointed toward a tree. "Resting. Lots of excitement for an eight-year-old."
Volta shook his head. "Can't believe the kid's only eight. He sounds and acts a lot older."
"You grow up fast on the ocean." Borodo spoke off-handedly, his attention far from Volta. His eyes were locked on Slasher, who noticed and returned the stare.
"Slasher…I need to tell you something."
The big hunter waved his hand. "I already know about the ship."
Borodo's jaw hit the floor. "WHAT?!"
"What the hell?!" Drogon roared. Buki and Kibatto looked equally shocked, but Zoro just shook his head, more bemused then anything. Volta sighed, frustrated with himself. Why hadn't he connected the dots sooner? The bastard had introduced himself as a thief.
"I'm very good at reading faces," Slasher explained. "So I knew you were lying about our ship from the beginning. But I didn't say anything because I also detected a lot of desperation in your actions, and a man with your confidence would only be desperate over something he felt he had no power over. And from there…I guess I just wanted to see where things would go."
Drogon rubbed his temples. "What the hell man, ya can't hold out on us like that."
"I didn't want to scare him off," Slasher said. "But I can see right now how sorry you are, Borodo. Thief or not, you really wanted to free this island. And that's a sentiment I can respect."
Borodo smiled. "Well, I'm not a fan of pirates or tyrants, but I'd be lying if I said I did it for the people. This is Akisu's home."
Volta nodded. Made perfect sense to him, a boy with his skills originating from an island like this. But he didn't hear whatever Borodo said next, intent on speaking to Akisu himself. He walked away from the group, stepping over fallen glass and stone around the base of Trump Castle. The bottom layers still retained their crown-like shape, but most of the top had collapsed, their ship stranded on the rubble.
Huh. Their ship. Not 'their' as in Slasher's team, but 'their' as in all of theirs. When had he started thinking of that ship as his? He'd been asleep most of his time on it, and he'd only seen its sleek exterior while it was being stolen away from them.
He wondered if Zoro wanted to join up with these guys long-term. Seven heads were better then five, and certainly better then two. But to be part of a team like theirs, one had to integrate with the dominate group mentality, and Volta wasn't sure he could do that. He wasn't a group guy. Not really a partner guy either, but Zoro had endeared himself to him, and likely vice versa.
All of these thoughts were buzzing around his head as he sat under the big tree, right next to Akisu. The boy's eyes were closes, and he breathed softly, but he wasn't asleep. Just tired. Perhaps he should sleep, but Volta had questions first.
"I have a scabbard that may have come from here. The gears and mechanisms are similar to what I've seen on this island. I just put two and two together a few minutes ago."
Akisu opened his eyes and beckoned with his hands. Volta gave him the scabbard.
"It's beautiful," the kid marveled. "Very well-constructed. It looks like someone took the original scabbard and cut off its last three inches. The inside's been hollowed out, but the end grips the sword as it goes in, to prevent shaking. And then someone reinforced it with metal, trying to turn it into a gun barrel. Wait, is this thing a shotgun? That's so cool!"
"It ran out of bullets a long time ago," Volta said. "So I've never used it in combat the way its supposed to. I was wondering if you could make more."
Akisu frowned. "Well, I can try. But it'll take a while. I don't have access to gunpowder, or the kind of metals used for bullet manufacturing."
Volta took the scabbard back. "I'll ask someone else if you're too tired. I don't mean to ask too much of you."
Akisu smiled. "It's fine. I could use some sleep. What about you? Are you tired?"
Volta leaned back, hat hiding his eyes. He sighed, long and deep. "I dunno. Maybe, I have been doing this for a while now."
"Doing what?"
"Traveling, fighting, training, investigating, considering, planning, discovering, befriending, destroying, freeing…just about everything a good bounty hunter is supposed to do, I suppose. For months now. My toes hurt like hell, likely rebroken, and I have a burn on my side, though it's not a bad one. Probably a few bruises too, from the King's punches. Finger's are a bit burned. My lungs feel sticky, even though I know I didn't get any jelly in them. And I'm also just a little sick of my own head, telling me to press on to the next big goal, the next big mission. I'm sick of missions. I've been on a mission my whole life, but if I stop moving, I'll probably never move again. And I can't allow that to happen. There's someone I need to kill. He has a desire, a dream I suppose, and if he achieves it then he'll doom us all. I'm standing between him and the world ending. I try not to think about it too much, because of how insanely stressful it is, but that's a mite hard to do when you know that every second you spend not looking for him is a second he's spending getting closer to that dream. To that selfish, stupid dream. I'm just…I'm just…yeah, I'm tired. I'm exhausted, in many ways. And I'm being selfish too, unloading all this on you. I'm sorry about that. You're just a kid, I don't expect you to have a solution to all this."
Akisu didn't respond. Volta didn't expect him too. Maybe the kid was already asleep. He moved his hand up to take off his hat.
Little arms wrapped around his side, the one that wasn't burned. Volta took off his hat and looked down. "What are you doing?"
Akisu looked up. "Do you want a hug?"
…what?
{%}===============(===~.
Do you want a hug, Damian?
{%}===============(===~.
"…sure."
Akisu hugged him. Volta patted his head. He really was a good kid. Better then most. Better than he had been…
Borodo found them asleep together, small smiles on their faces. A snot bubble threatened to burst on Volta's coat, so the thief leaned his little brother onto himself instead. It was a really nice spot, big shady tree under their heads, and a view of the whole island laid out before them. An island now free of pirates, and their demands for weapons of war.
He felt himself drift off as well, but before he did, he wondered where Akisu's parents were, and how they felt about their new freedom. He hoped he could meet them soon, him and his little bro…
.~===)==============={%}
Several hours later, the last of the pirates were cleared from the island, stuffed within a fleet's worth of brigs. The elevator made its final trip, bringing up Commodore Nelson's chair. And Nelson himself of course. Hardy had never seen the man off of it.
A full squad of Marines hoisted it into the air, walking it out and setting it down in the center of the room. Hardy saluted, posture stiff, coat flapping.
"Is that the last of them?" Nelson inquired, between bites of an enormous turkey leg.
"Yes sir."
"Eh, excellent! Escort me to the island's new government, we have important matters to discuss."
Hardy felt his left eye twitch, very much involuntarily. It was hardly the first time the Commodore had arrived expecting for more than was possible. "Sir, a new civilian government has not been established."
"Eh? Why not, there's no pirates left." BURP! "You just confirmed as much. Why aren't they performing their civic duties?" Nelson's mustache twitched in agitation. "Is it not essential that this island return to its proper place within the Government's expectations, eh, Lieutenant Commander?"
Hardy closed his eyes, taking a deep, quiet breath. "Sir, the populace is exalted over the end of the Trumps' reign, but they need time and energy to restore things to the way they-"
"Eh, it doesn't matter much anyway," Nelson interrupted. He tore into his leg with renewed fervor, stripping it to the bone in seconds. He licked his fingers clean. "Just take me to whoever's in charge already. We have important businessto discuss."
Hardy have a good idea of what the business was going to be about, but he said nothing. "Yes sir. I have set up a meeting place." He saluted once more and led the way.
A larger escort of Marines lay just outside the building, and the procession made its way into the city below.
"They're not gonna meet me in the castle?" Nelson whined. "Classless swine…"
The city was all too happy to see them, a cheer going up from the gathered crowds. Someone had rigged a confetti cannon in a shockingly small amount of time, and it boomed as they marched under it, showering the island's saviors in colorful strips of paper.
"Damn islanders," Nelson growled. "This paper's sticking to my face!"
"It's covered in grease, sir," Hardy reminded.
"And their paper is sticking to it!" Nelson huffed. "Are you even listening to me?"
The people were oblivious to the Marine commodore's anger, continuing to cheer for the procession as it neared the center of the city. A group of scientists stood on the steps of one of the larger buildings, a tan cylindrical tower with a swirling pink roof. Two stepped forward, one male and one female, each bearing a tower of their own in the form of improbable curling hairdos. Their faces beamed, but from the looks in their eyes it was clear they'd rather be elsewhere. Hardy sympathized, already wishing to return to his ship.
"Welcome, Commodore Nelson Royale," the female scientist said. "I am Mikisu, and this is my husband, Pokisu."
"Very nice to meet you both!" the commodore boomed. "Now let's get inside. Can't have any prying eyes or wiggling ears, eh?"
The Marine guard acted quickly, forming a ring around the steps. The scientists were caught off-guard, clearly expecting to be part of the meeting, but Nelson's throne barreled forward, driving Mikisu and Pokisu within before they could get a word out. Hardy followed them in. As soon as Nelson's carriers set down his throne they ran out, doors shutting behind them.
It was a lobby built like everything else on this island, twisted but structurally sound. A pleasant enough place to 'set terms', as Nelson liked to call it. Hardy had a different term for it. Emotional extortion.
"The Trumps will be sent to one of our prison facilities, likely in another region," the commodore began. He didn't even try to act professional, scratching his bare stomach and twisting around on his chair. "If they're especially unlucky, they'll be sent to Impel Down for the rest of their lives. And those will be quite long, eh? Or short now, I suppose."
The scientists nodded.
"But before we send off our prisoners, it's essential that they be interrogated first. Need to know if they know about other dangerous pirates, eh? So we can catch them too of course."
Mikisu frowned. "Did they say anything of that sort?"
Not at all, Hardy thought. Because that's tomorrow's interrogation focus.
"Not at all," the commodore replied, and here his tone grew solemn. Hardy gritted his teeth. He knew the routine.
"What he did mention, quite a bit…was collaboration."
The scientists froze, eyes growing wide.
"Now, of course it wasn't collaboration of your own will. A terrible choice was given to you, eh? Make the King Cannon, which this crew's captain spoke of in great detail, or be destroyed. Not very good options, eh?"
The commodore sighed, and his ugly face warped into something approaching sympathy. "But you see, now I face a terrible choice. The Marines are very strict about collaboration, by choice or force. There's just no distinction to the Government."
True enough, Hardy conceded. But most Marines have the decency to ignore the latter kind. Not you, you fat bastard. Not you.
"Do you know what the punishment for collaboration with pirates is?" Nelson continued.
Mikisu was shaking now. "What?"
"Why, whatever the pirates get! Which means you'd get sent to Impel Down. Your husband too. All the scientists and builders. Their families as well, except for the children, who will be drafted. More chore boys and chore girls for the Navy, which isn't that bad, eh? But not preferable. They'll never see their parents again."
The commodore leaned in, looming over the now terrified couple. "Do you two have children? Would you like to never see them again?"
"No!" Mikisu cried, tears running down her face. Her husband wasn't far from crying himself, and they both collapsed before the commodore's throne.
Nelson cracked a smirk while their eyes were turned downward. "No? No children, or no seeing them again?"
"Yes! I mean no, please no, anything but that! Please don't take the children of this island! I've heard that the Marines fight with all their strength, including that of their servants! I can't bear the thought of the children of this island dying in battle! Of our child dying in battle!"
Servants? Not the word Hardy would have used, but her meaning was clear, as was her distress. He grit his teeth and turned away, unable to look upon their despair any longer. But he heard what the commodore said next.
"No thought spared to your own agony in Impel Down? I've never been there myself, but I've heard its hell on earth. Do all the parents of this island think like you do? If so, I'm impressed. Nothing warms the heart like a loving parent, eh?"
"Please," Pokisu begged. "I know you Marines value your codes and rules, but…but we couldn't resist! They would have killed us all and destroyed this island! Our traditions, our technology, lost forever! Is there any way we can make up for the sins they forced us to commit, any way for you to…to look the other way?"
A moment's silence, for the commodore to pretend to ponder. This was also part of the routine.
"…well. There is one thing I can do."
The fucking King Cannon, Hardy growled internally.
"The King Cannon. Is it still in one piece?"
Hardy cursed himself and turned back to the young couple. The looks of horror on their faces was evident of what he knew they must be feeling.
"Consider," Nelson said. "The Bear King wanted you to make a weapon of destruction for him. And you did, which is collaboration. But if we take the cannon, then we can use it against pirates like the Bear. We can keep the seas safer. And if the cannon's broken, all the better! Just rebuild it, and now you'll be collaborating with us. A new alliance to wipe away the sins of the old, eh? How does that sound?"
The scientists were clearly horrified by the prospect of their shameful construction unleashed upon the world. But the commodore's wording left little room for negotiation. The choice was clear; suffer further injustice under the Government's system, or redeem the island through surrendering its weapons.
"This is a hard choice to be sure, eh? I'd get into a lot of trouble if this deal was discovered, but I really don't want to cause this island any more pain. The people here are wonderful, patriotic even. They made confetti cannons for me and my men! Such a thoughtful gesture…"
Mikisu was silent. Her trembling stopped, and she rose to her feet, helping her husband up. She took a deep breath, perhaps to steady her nerves. Hardy had no doubt what her decision was.
"We'll give you the Cannon. And should it be broken, we'll rebuild it. Thank you for bending your rules for us."
Her husband nodded along, seemingly in agreement. Hardy wondered if he would have agreed the other way too; the man seemed to let his wife do most of the thinking for him.
"Excellent!" Nelson beamed. He clapped his hands, stomach jiggling with the movement. "I assure you, this island will be back on its feet in no time! I'll send in orders for funds to be brought in, so you can repair your castle. Gotta keep that key safe, eh? Say, do you think you can make the King Cannon a ship-mounted artillery piece?"
The couple froze again. Hardy could see the gears turning in their heads, acute minds working out the calculations for how such a thing could be feasible.
"We can. How big is your ship?"
"It's a private yacht I converted into a Marine vessel!" Nelson explained jubilantly. "I'm descended from royalty you know, and I inherited it along with my father's estates. It's a bit on the larger side, but I'm sure you'll have no problem coming up with a suitable emplacement, eh?"
The scientists bowed, and for just a moment, Hardy could have sworn he saw a flash of anger on Pokisu's face. He glanced at Nelson, but the bastard hadn't seemed to notice.
"We will do all we can," Pokisu said. "If this concludes our meeting…"
"Of course!" Nelson cried. He squeezed his left armrest, and a gong sounded within his throne. The doors opened, his carriers sweeping in to resume their back-breaking duties.
"We'll be setting up shop for a few weeks," Nelson stated. "Doing some patrols, making sure there aren't any more pirates scampering about. I'll have the blueprints of my ship in your hands by tomorrow. Good luck, eh?" He clapped his hands, and the throne turned, heading back toward the doors.
You could give them the prints right now, Hardy thought. They're in your chair. But that would imply you'd set this whole thing up from the start, and we can't have them knowing that.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, turning to follow his commodore.
"It's fine," Mikisu replied, and Hardy paused. "We know that the Navy keeps up safe with their laws. But thank you for placing the lives of this island above them. Thank you for not…for not condemning us." She nearly burst into tears all over again, and Pokisu leaned her head into his chest. His stare was cold, and Hardy knew with certainty he had not been fooled. Not by anything.
"I'm sorry," he said again, and left the lobby, cape flapping behind him. If Hardy turned too fast, it almost sounded like a whip, and in those moments he hated it. It felt especially heavy on his shoulders as he walked back into the fading light. The sunset to his west was magnificent, but he barely noticed it.
"Eheheheheheheh! Another victory for Opportunistic Justice! With that cannon, my fleet will be more powerful than before!"
Hardy wondered if anyone in the crowd heard what he just said. But their renewed cheering must have drowned it out, because they looked as grateful as ever. Nelson laughed, raising his hands in the air, and the cheering grew even louder.
.~===)==============={%}
Volta woke up just in time to catch the last dying embers of the sunset, flicking out as the sun dipped below the horizon. The view was spectacular; he could see small strips of darkness in the last of the light, islands that he would never have glimpsed at sea level. With no more pirates to fight, he could take in the vista without reservation.
As sunlight disappeared, the stars began to emerge. Clouds faded from purple to gray, and then were swept out by a wind that shook the trees. The tallest grasses of the mountain swayed, and the city below lit up in a sea of yellow light. It reminded Volta of Waxtown, that last bastion of British civilization. A pang of…not, homesickness, but wanting struck him. A desire to revisit the ancient burgs of that crumbling city. To see the faces of people whom he had brought hope through his scavenges.
How were they all doing? Ms. Deus, that old stout hag, who's purse snatchers had led to his entry into this world in the first place? Borton, and his bakery, the world's last breads scavenged from shattered farms and ruined grocery stories. The Keepers of the Chorus, Christian singers giving the town music to liven up its grim existence?
"Thinking about something?"
Volta nodded. "Yeah. Thinking of home."
Zoro leaned on the oak, green hair blowing in the wind. It had gotten a bit longer, something the swordsman resented. But at least the last traces of his bald spot where gone. Volta smirked at the memory.
"Home does sound nice," Zoro said. "It's been a long time now. Comparatively."
"You don't talk about your dojo much," Volta noted. "Even though you use it's teachings."
"There's not much to say. Shimotsuki Village is a farming community, specializing in rice. It has an older aesthetic, from the country of Wano. The Isshin Dojo is where I trained. Did I mention that before?"
"…can't remember."
"Well, that's where I trained. Where I learned Santoryu."
The wind picked up, and Zoro fell silent. He didn't want to shout over it. The oak groaned, branches shaking. The wind died down again.
"There were a bunch of other villages on that island. I used to travel around, taking their signs for myself after I beat all their members."
"What did you do with them?"
"Ah, I just tossed them back after a few minutes. Didn't collect them. I just wanted to take them down from where they sat on the roof ledges, as a sign of dominance. Stupid kid stuff, really. But I never took the sign of the ledge of the Isshin Dojo."
"Why's that."
Zoro leaned back a bit more. Almost sagged. "There was someone I couldn't beat. Someone I just could not defeat with my blade."
"Ah."
The wind strengthened again. A much louder groan sounded from the castle, and the two turned around just in time to witness a small avalanche of rubble. The ship on top began to slide.
"Oh shit," Zoro muttered. He dashed forward, blades out. The ship slid even faster, momentum increasing.
"Don't try it Zoro!" Volta screamed, but the swordsman had already placed Wado in his mouth. He took a stance Volta knew all too well.
"DRAGON TWISTER!"
Zoro spun, almost faster than the eye could see, and a tornado formed above his head. It flew through the air, up the many levels of the castle, and collided with the ship, trying to force it back up the building.
It failed. The winds were against the technique, and it had mostly spun itself out as it ascended the castle's many levels. The tornado dissipated, and the ship slid down must faster then before.
Volta felt his heart rate spike, and his ink shot out, ready to grab Zoro and pull him out of the way.
The swordsman had other ideas. For a brief moment he stood still, as the wind whipped at his shirt and tugged at his bandana. In a rush of motion, he chucked his swords in the air and ripped it off his arm, tying it to his head and catching the blades right after. He resumed his stance, and Volta felt a pang of awe. Slasher's ship fell over the edge nose-first, along with a shower of rubble. Over a ton of wood rope and stone, falling a hundred feet straight toward Zoro. He did not falter.
"TATSUMAKI!"
Volta blinked. A new technique? No, it was the same tornado move as before, but with a different name. It spun faster, stronger, and it smashed into the ship and the rubble, halting its descent and even sending it flying back up a few feet.
The ink snaked around Zoro and jerked him back, and his technique once again gave way against the wind and the weight. The ship crashed down, its front half splintering. The masts snapped loose from the impact. Volta winced, his ears picking up smaller crashes within. Most likely Slasher's medical supplies. The ink formed a shield, absorbing thousands of splinters before they could skewer the two hunters.
The wind blew more debris into the air, and the two jumped behind the tree, ink flanking their sides.
"There's always something crazy going on," Volta growled. "Damn, Slasher's gonna be pissed."
"I tried to save it," Zoro said glumly. "But my techniques…damnit!"
"You can beat yourself up over them later," Volta admonished. "We need to get out of this storm."
They hurried down the mountain, sometimes rolling down it after taking a few too many steps. Volta's hat went flying off his head, but his ink latched on to it and brought it back. The winds only seemed to grow stronger, until Volta feared the entire island could be knocked over.
Fortunately, at the wind's worst he felt no tilt, no great shift in momentum. The ground remained blessedly stable. Eventually the storm passed, though Volta really couldn't call it that. There were no dark clouds, no rumbles or rain. Just wind. Did that count as a storm? No, just a forceful gale.
"If my techniques had been stronger, I would have saved Slasher's ship," Zoro growled. "My Tatsumaki is my strongest attack."
"You've been a bit inconsistent on the naming," Volta noted.
Zoro nodded. A look of clarity touched his eyes, as if he was seeing his swords for the first time. The stars reflected off their polished steel.
"Whenever I came up with an attack name, my sensei would give it a translation, in the language of Wano. He said that names have power, and the older the name, the greater that power. I didn't really understand what he meant at the time, but while seeing my first technique fail, I wondered what would happen if I tried using the older name."
"Don't you say Oni Giri for that rush attack you do?"
Zoro grinned. "The name I came up with was Ogre Cutter. I thought my sensei's name was cooler."
"Is that not your most powerful attack?"
Zoro froze. "It is. That makes so much sense."
"YOU IDIOT!"
CONK!
"Ow!"
.~===)==============={%}
The sun rose on a free Clockwork, for the first time in seven years. The people rejoiced, and it wasn't long before a full-blown party was underway, the first of many that would be held in the weeks to come.
A Clockwork party is nothing to sneeze at. As with everything else on the island, the citizens put their minds and hands to work, crafting the best food, drink, and party games they could think of. And years of building weapons had given them little room for creativity, for the past seven years. It all came spilling out now, festive and fun ideas, bits of light in a dark time.
Some were stranger than others.
Kibatto wiggled in his restraints, while a scientist placed the last of a dozen small bird toys on his back, connected to his shirt with thin wires.
"Uh, how exactly does this qualify as a party game?"
The scientist chuckled. "It's quite simple. The little wind-up birds jump up on your back, and the kids have to hit them with hammers."
"What?!"
"Rest assured. If they hit you, a little buzzer gives them a static zap, the kind they'd get after rubbing their feet on the rug all day. If they whack the birds, they score a point, and you get zapped instead. It's all good fun."
"Why did I sign up for this again?!"
WHAM!
ZAP!
"AHH!"
The little child giggled at the little zap. "It doesn't hurt at all!"
"Of course not," the scientist chuckled. "In fact, I designed these shocks so that getting makes your brain work faster for a while."
"That's so cool!" the kids cried, stars shining in their eyes. "Let's just ignore the birds and hit him over and over!"
"AAAHH! BUKI, SAVE ME!"
"Can't!" she called out. "I'm winning at darts!"
"I AM BEING BEATEN TO DEATH OVER HERE!"
She tossed another and scored her fifth bullseye. One of her opponents threw down his darts in disgust, while another took a deep drink from his glass.
"I used these same skills to shoot off the Bear's toes!" she exaggerated. "Who wants to hear the story of how we beat the big bad bear!"
"We do!" The children dropped their hammers and ran over to the hunter, bizarre whack-a-mole game abandoned. Kibatto wiggled so much he flipped over the table he was strapped to.
"No, don't ruin my birds!"
"Fuck your birds! Now get me out of this thing!"
Meanwhile, the dance floor was hoping, and in the middle was Drogon, busting out his best moves. Perfected over the course of many hip weddings, his feet flew across the ground, body twisting and bending, hips thrusting. It was raw, sensual movement, something Drogon wasn't completely aware of.
"Nice dancing," Slasher commented from the sidelines, cheeks flush and eyes unfocused. A dozen bottles stood on the outdoor bar's counter.
"I've been trying…huff…to stop for an hour now," Drogon panted. "But I'm…huff…trapped by all these girls that…huff…keep bumpin into me!"
"Well, maybe you should stop dancing like a rake. Uh, no, a snake. Yeah, that's it."
Slasher reached for another bottle. He paused.
"…MY POOR SHIP!" He collapsed onto the bar, tears washing away some nearby beer stains.
Zoro had two dozen bottles before him, and only three of them were full. "Free booze is the best booze," he sighed. "I'm sorry about your ship Slasher. But I'm sure with thirty-eight million berries, buying a new one will be a snap. All's well that ends will, right?"
"…WAAAAAAAH!"
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Drogon laughed so hard he tripped on his own feet, collapsing in a trio of swooning ladies.
"I'm gonna kill Borodo," Slasher muttered. "But it's not really his fault. I'll kill the wind. It's the fuckin wind's fault."
Zoro drained his lost bottle. "I am sorry about your ship. You don't need to give us all of our shares if you need it."
"We don't," Slasher slurred. "Tis fine. Let's see, it's about…five million four hundred thousand for you, five million, four thousand hundred for Volta. And the rest for us. We get…just a bit extra, if that's fine with you."
"It's all good," Zoro said hastily. "Say, are you alright? You don't look like you can hold your drink."
"Just trying to turn back the clock, go back to when ship and I first met."
Zoro nodded. "That makes sense. By the way, what's your ship's name?"
Slasher considered this question carefully, stroking the faint stubble on his chin. Then he vomited all over the bar.
"Alright, I see you're busy. I'll ask later." Zoro gathered up his bottles and dumped them into a nearby recycling bin. He didn't see many of those. He wondered what they'd get made into. Hopefully bottles for better booze, if they were lucky.
"Zoro!" Borodo and Akisu ran over, each carrying a mug. The latter's was, much to Zoro's disappointment, filled with orange juice.
He shook his head. "I expect better from you kid."
Akisu smiled. "Sure thing Zoro!"
"You gotta start young, build up your tolerance."
"Wait, what?"
"Anyway!" Borodo cried. "I was wondering where Volta was. Akisu things he can help him find the guy who built the shotgun scabbard."
"Someone from here built that?" Zoro marveled. "Huh, that makes sense. He's busy interrogating the Trumps down below with some Marine officers."
Borodo shook his head. "Does that guy ever take a break?"
Zoro grinned. "Not really. He's always doing something that helps us in the future."
"He should learn to enjoy the present more!" Borodo said. He raised his mug. "This party's really swinging into high-gear!"
And so they partied, and feasted, and enjoyed the strange, somewhat revenge-fantasyish games. Confetti cannons galore, streamers, balloons, blaring music, and rumors of fireworks. Seven years of pent-up stress released in one blast of joy. Even some of the Marines got in on the action, dancing with the islanders.
The party was so loud Volta could hear it from the deck of Nelson's flagship, even though the island was thousands of feet above him. He went below deck, the sound thankfully reduced to nothing as he made his way down to the interrogation room. Repulsive the commodore may be, he'd done a good job of converting his yacht to meet the proper Marine standards. The room was large, more then capable of holding a crouching Bear King, and the walls were covered in acoustic boards, soundproofing it.
Nelson himself sat on the end of a giant table, stuffing himself, with chocolate muffins. Volta exerted his power, an ink tendril latching on to one and bringing to him. He worfed it down without a moment's hesitation.
GULP "Hey!"
"You said you wanted my help," Volta smirked.
"I don't need you," Nelson huffed. "Don't presume yourself above your station, eh? Where's the Lieutenant Commander?"
As if on cue, Hardy entered, looking a bit disheveled. He held a bunch of files, which he tossed onto the table. Nelson couldn't reach them, so he clapped his hands, and one of his carriers brought it to him. He pawed it awkwardly, chocolate getting all over the edges. Volta rubbed his temple.
"Thus begins the second round of interrogations. Let me review some things, Thomtwittle Bert, known more widely as the Bear King. Your age is twenty-four. A pirate since you were fourteen, eh? Wouldn't that make your youngest brother six?"
"Boo Jack's always been able to handle himself," the Bear muttered. He had been stripped of all finery, his furs and silks replaced with a prisoner's uniform. It fit poorly, and Volta wondered if the ship had a sewing room.
"Tough from a young age, eh? Indubitably, I'm impressed with your longevity, and the notoriety you gained in your first three years alone. Veeery impressive stuff."
"I have some questions for you, commodore," Volta interrupted. "These bounty posters look recent. And yet the Trump's were out of sight for apparently seven years. Do you know why that is?"
"Freelance photographers," Nelson replied. He chomped down on another muffin, swallowing it like a pelican. "I hired a team of photographers to scale the tower and infiltrate Trump Castle."
The Bear scowled. "So that explains it. I had a dozen men executed for those photos getting out. I wasted my bullets."
The headache was getting worse. "You mean to say that there are freelance photographers that can infiltrate a pirate-controlled country, but the military cannot?"
"It's called the Navy," Nelson corrected. "And why train soldiers for an operation they'll only perform once? If they had been discovered, this big lug would have destroyed the island."
"Do you really believe he'd bring the whole island down, when himself and his siblings are on it?"
To the shock of both of them, the Bear nodded his head. "This brat's got the right of it. I wasn't really gonna destroy the island."
Nelson's jaw hit the table. "What? So all the rumors, uh I mean, intel I heard about you being mad was incorrect?!"
Hardy put his head in his hands.
"Don't call me brat," Volta growled. "You're only six yours older than me."
The King grinned, but it was a hollow expression. "There's no reason for me to hide anything anymore. My dreams are ashes, my army smashed." He slumped forward, eyes vacant. "I don't even know where my siblings are."
"They're being held in this ship," Hardy informed. "On a higher level."
"Lieutenant Commander!" Nelson roared. He slammed his fist into the table. "Do not inform prisoners of anything that could give them any sense of relief or hope! Nothing of the sort awaits them where they're going, eh?"
Volta leaned against the wall, arms folded and head down.
Nelson horked down another muffin. "Yesterday we talked about your relationship with the island. Now I want to ask a few questions about your relationships with other pirates."
The Bear shrugged. "Nothing to say. If I see 'em, I beat them. My fleet took care of anything that got too close."
"It's interesting you say that," Nelson continued. "Because from the records we collected from your castle, it seems like you've been in contact with some interesting figures."
The Bear froze, eyes widening. "That's not possible," he growled. "I keep my business in my room, near the top. And it got destroyed with my throne room."
"It was," Nelson agreed. "But I have a crack team that specializes in reconstructing destroyed records. They've been working through the night, piecing together all your dealings over the past seven years. Quite the feat, eh?"
Forget frozen, the Bear looked over the verge of a panic attack. He gulped, eyes bulging. Was he choking on something?
"Damn you!" he shouted. "Don't think you'll get anything out of me about the Organization!"
Volta jumped up. "What did you just say?"
"The Organization!" the Bear repeated. "I'm not saying anything about it!"
"There's no reason to be so tight-lipped," Nelson cooed. "Your siblings already chocked up everything they know. There's no point in hiding anything."
At the mention of his siblings, all the fight went out of the Bear. He leaned back, chains rattling. He closed his eyes. "Damn it…if you hurt them-"
"Interrogation is not a torture session," Nelson reassured.
Hardy grimaced.
"All we did was let them know just how much trouble they'd be in if they remained silent on the issue. Trouble that you're now in Bert. May I call you Bert?"
"No."
"You see Bert, by revealing information on other pirate groups, you ensure we stay one step ahead of them, and this allows us to more easily catch them. If you help us out, I could arrange for a more comfortable transfer for you. Not all pirates end up in Impel Down. Some of the weaker, less successful ones are left in facilities in the East Blue."
"I don't care!" the Bear bellowed. "I'd rather face Hell itself then give you anything! You have no idea how terrifying the Organization is. I will not betray it!"
Nelson grinned. "Even if I promise to transfer your siblings somewhere more comfortable, eh?"
Volta was amazed at how pale the Bear was getting. How was his brain working without any blood?
"Damn you! Damn you!"
"Saying that over and over again is not going to do a thing to help you," Nelson said. "Rather, why don't you let go of your silly notions of pirate pride and tell us what we need to know. My team will have it all done by tomorrow, so it doesn't matter to me if you tell me or not. But it matters to you, because it's the difference between a transfer to a prison here, or the big prison there. Do you understand my meaning?"
Volta wasn't doing nearly as much interrogating as he had hoped. But he may not need to at this point. The Bear was close to cracking. He could practically see the wheels turning, the scale tipping in the direction Nelson wanted. Volta was reminded of Rokka, the locker manager from Retasu. A bit of a gross fellow, but far keener than appearances suggested.
"…fine. I'll tell you everything. But only if you promise to transfer us. And protect us from the Organization."
Nelson's mustache twitched, but he was all smiles. "It's not Marine policy to make deals with prisoners, but I'll see what I can do. Now, what is it about this Organization that's got you so rattled."
"They're obscure," Bear explained. "But their reach gets farther every month. They've got a lame name for pragmatic reasons, keeping themselves on the down-low."
"The Organization is just the sort of name to invite all manner of speculation," Volta said. "They should have called themselves the group, or the people. The sort of thing you'd say in an everyday conversation."
"I don't give two shits what they're called," Bear growled. "The important thing is that they've hidden themselves well. But they often make contracts with killers for hire, even pirate groups. They reached out to me with a deal. I'd have the islanders make weapons for them, and in exchange they'd give me ships and manpower."
"What kind of weapons did you make?" Hardy inquired.
"Most of it was standard stuff, like rifles and bullets and cutlasses. But we got a few special orders too. Fancy guns. Bombs too, and sharp bullets, the kind that pierce. A heavy set of armor. But the biggest order was some sort of gas bomb."
"A chemical weapon?" Nelson quirked an eyebrow. "Those are illegal. Quite a dirty business to deal in, eh?"
"I forget the exact name," Bear continued. "M5 something. It's nasty stuff. That was the closest the island ever came to revolt, but with the key I kept them in line."
"For a while, I had you pegged as a possible leader of the Organization," Volta said. "Zoro and I already encountered members of it a few months ago."
"I'm just a business partner," the Bear clarified. "I really don't know much more then that. The reason I'm concerned about them coming after me, not scared, is because they have the tendency to mutilate the bodies of those that cross them. They sent me and my siblings one, as a warning of what would happen if we failed." He shivered, clearly spooked despite his protests. "It was a horrid sight. And it made me wonder if there were some guys on their side that were really strong. With my Fruit, I don't fear physical damage, but my siblings are vulnerable. Three of them anyway."
"You're all vulnerable against Seastone," Volta reminded with a grin. He tapped the end of his hat.
"Bastard," Bear growled. "You never would have beaten me without that pin."
"In any case," Volta deflected. "I know about the Organization too. There's a Don, who's in charge, a Combat Commander, three Gems, and an Idea Man. Know anything about that?"
"This is everything I can give you," the Bear said. "In exchange for a transfer to a better prison and protection against the Organization's wrath, for me and my siblings. I wouldn't leave anything out with that on the line."
Volta stared, more than a little shocked. "You really care."
"Of course I care!" the Bear shouted. "They may be four of the biggest pains in my ass, but they're my family, damnit! I may be a pirate, but I've got my own to look after, just like you and your little hunter team."
"They're not my team." Volta corrected. "I'm surprised you have this much character for a pirate, but don't think that excuses all the pain you put this island through."
The Bear King snorted. "I could care less about the island anymore. Just make sure you honor our deal, Marine."
"Eheheh! A deal is a deal." Nelson concluded the interrogation with the cleaning of his plate, and his retinue leapt to attention, carrying his throne out of the room. The sudden influx of voice hurt Volta's ears, and he closes the large doors, soundproofing the room once more.
"Pathetic tub of lard," the Bear spat. "Using my real name like that. I'm the Bear King now."
"It's protocol," Hardy said. "Thought I have to admit…Thomtwittle Bert?"
"My parents hated me!"
"What are the rest of the names like?"
"You don't wanna know."
Volta took his leave, the sounds of hustle and bustle filling the corridor as he stepped into it. Time to get back to shore, and to the team. He'd already started thinking of their ship as his, though that wasn't a problem anymore. Honestly, it was about time for Zoro and him to part ways with the bounty hunters. While having them on the mission would be nice, Volta wanted to tear apart the Organization with as little help as possible. He needed to be stronger. Much stronger, if he wanted to confront the 'hero' and win.
He ascended the deck just in time to witness something that stopped him in his tracks. A large metal frame was being moved onto the ship, which had been docked near the cave entrance. Soldiers were sawing away at the floorboards in the center of the deck, and the sound of banging hammers could be heard in the space below.
"Eh, what do you think?"
Volta jumped, turning around to see Nelson right behind him. The dude couldn't move, how had he snuck up on him? Or rather, how had the Marines carrying his chair snuck up on him?
"I'm not sure what I'm looking at," Volta said. The sight of it left him feeling uneasy.
"Just preparing for some modifications," Nelson chirped. He seemed to be in an especially good mood, cheeks flush and smile wide.
Volta began to walk away, but Nelson's carriers were fast, and they caught up with him. "You don't seem particularly respectful of Marine authority," Nelson spat. "You do know you're only getting paid because it's the law to do so, right? I've never liked bounty hunters. Nothing but no-good vermin, similar to the pirates you hunt. Always chasing after the same prizes of gold and cash. Pretty apt comparison, eh?"
"Then why did you ask for a hunter to sit in on the interrogation?" Volta replied.
Nelson's sneer curled into a smile. "Despite what I said back there, and what I'm saying now, I think you're a bit different. Insubordinate, uppity, but not unforgivably so. You've got a soldier's air about you, eh? And a nasty look in your eye I enjoy watching."
A chill crawled up Volta's spine. "What are you saying?"
The commodore clapped, and his carriers moved closer to Volta. Nelson leaned in, until he could smell his rancid breath.
"You strike me as a man who kills easily," Nelson rasped. "There are some Marines I hear are corrupt, willing to abuse their power for frivolous things. I wouldn't mind if you got rid of them, for a small fee."
Volta narrowed his eyes, and this time it was Nelson who felt the chill. "You're asking for my service…as an assassin?"
"As a servant of justice," Nelson simpered. "A man willing to enact holy cleanings, on the word of someone who truly cares for the commoner. I'm a rich man, Volta. I used to live comfortably, but my desire to help the people outweighed my own desires. I take great pride in the sigil on my stomach, the coat upon my back."
Volta looked over Nelson's shoulder, to the crumpled cloth and tangled epaulets crushed against the back of his throne.
"But I can't easily remove the evils of the system when I'm in that system myself. That's why when an opportunity like you comes along, I need to take advantage of it, eh? Opportunistic Justice; that's my personal code, the one I follow over all others. Do you understand, eh?"
"What I understand," Volta began, words dripping with distain. "Is that you look quite comfortable right now, even with your coat. I don't know what maneuvering you're trying to pull, but I have no desire to be a part of it. Find another two-bit hunter for your errands."
Volta stormed off, the remains of his coat flapping in the wind. A gale had entered the tunnel, and Nelson shivered as much from the cold as he did from sheer rage. His face, already a ruddy red from all the talking, deepened into a muddled purple.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN TALK DOWN TO ME?!" Nelson roared. "YOU HAVE GUTS, BUT I AM AN OFFICER OF THE WORLD'S GREATEST POWER!"
"I respect the power," Volta called back. "But I don't have to respect all those within it. If I did, I wouldn't be standing here right now."
Nelson growled, another clap of his hands spiriting the throne away. Volta watched him retreat back into the bowels of his ship.
"I've never heard anyone talk back to him before."
Volta sighed, head rotating around to take in an approaching Hardy. "What do you want Commander?"
"Lieutenant Commander. And not much, just a little chat."
"Marines so far have proven dismal conversationalists."
Hardy cracked a smile, the first Volta had seen. "Then it is up to me to break the trend." He leaned on the railing, breeze blowing his mustache forward. He pulled an apple from his coat and tossed it to Volta.
He wrinkled his nose. "Unsanitary."
"I keep my coat clean. Cleaner than he does."
Volta shrugged. "Can't argue that." He took a bite, and shuddered at the crispness, sweet juices running down his chin.
Hardy grinned again. "I know a few apple farmers in the Mero Region. Their product keeps for a very long time."
Volta took another, bigger bite, head tiling back in ecstasy. How many years had it been since he'd eaten a fresh apple? Hell, how many years since anything this good? He shuddered, the weight of his wasted opportunities bearing down on him. Weeks of fried rice and milk, potatoes and carrots. Cozia was not an island suited for agriculture, not the part he'd stayed at anyway. He's barely eaten anything during his lunch in Goa. A deep sense of hollowness struck him, the apple awakening a hunger he hadn't felt since before his arrival.
Hardy blurred, and his eyes felt wet. Tears? Over a fucking apple?
The blurry Lieutenant Commander took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and held it out. "I can assure you you're not the first to cry. Got to my wife too."
"Wife?" Volta dabbed his eyes, trying to suppress his fury at his own displayed weakness.
"Yeah. Crazy, huh? The Government discourages marriages, unless you're one of the lucky bastards who gets to work at HQ. Then they're all for it."
"Strange," Volta muttered. He blinked, and the world clarified. "Every time I interact with you guys, I see a different face of this power I keep hearing about."
Hardy cringed. "I'm sorry about the commodore. He means well."
Volta snorted. "Don't lie to me. And don't lie to yourself."
The Marine bristled. "I'm not. There's a spark of something in there. Deep, but there."
The hunter took another bite. He swallowed, reveling in the feeling of his stomach filling. "Still lying. You've told so many lies that you've come to believe them as truth. I'm sorry it's come to that."
Hardy glared at him. His lean grew rigid, until it looked like he could snap to attention any second. "That's enough, hunter. We can't talk about our superiors in this manner."
"Your superior," Volta corrected. He took another bite, another swallow. "Not mine. Did you not hear the bribe he attempted? The assassinations he tried to order? On his comrades?"
"It's…it's not right. But Nelson has gotten rid of known corrupt elements before."
Volta scowled. "If a shark eats a shark, does the child in the water celebrate? When an army destroys another army, does it leave behind the spoils, to rot and wither on the battlefield? If a man burns another man's home, does he not destroy that man's family as well? Greed, envy, ambition; it does nothing for the world for it to go up against itself. You're superior has been abusing his position, in ways so blatant I'm amazed he hasn't been discharged already."
Hardy stared at the deck, hat shrouding his eyes. He clenched his teeth, hands formed into fists. "What the hell do you want me to do?" he whispered, head jerking from side to side. "Turn him in? He's the highest authority for the next three regions over, maybe for the whole damn East. No Real Admirals operate here, and even if one did, I'm still fucked, because they'll look at his perfect record, laugh off the charges, and then book me with insubordination. No one really cares if a few half-wit captains disappear, each with only a few crews to their names. Nelson's bagged sixty-seven."
Their conversation lulled, as a squad of Marines marched past. Volta stared through them, at Hardy's haggard face. The man looked older, more tired. As if a weight lay upon him, heavier with every reason listed for his inaction.
"There's something different about you."
Hardy looked up, perplexed. "Different how?"
Volta pointed. "It's the coat. You're wearing it properly, arms in your sleeves. All the officers I've seen so far wear them like capes, even Nelson."
Hardy shrugged, gaze returning to his shoes. "Might fall off that way."
The talk was drying up, Volta realized. Time for him return. He had a new mission, one he had given himself. One of discovery.
"Hey."
Volta stopped, but did not turn back. "What?"
"Why don't you wear your coat as a cape?"
He looked down at it. Halved by the Bear King's attacks, stained with blood and mud, more a rag then a coat now. Hardy clearly spoke of the past, of the clothing's prime.
Volta shrugged. "It doesn't have sleeves."
He moved forward, his steps steady despite the pain that still wracked him. He'd barely felt it, these past few hours. A wonderful skill to have, shutting out the pain.
Ah.
"Hardy, if you feel pain over the actions of your superior, remove yourself from it. Don't be embroiled in your emotions. Act. Do what you think is right. That's all you can do."
With this final proclamation, he descended the gangplank, making his way over the blood that still stained the cave's floor. A few Marines half-heartedly mopped up some of it.
Hardy watched him head to the elevator, ruminating on his words. "Remove yourself from your pain?" He chuckled, a bitter sound. "Idiot. Don't you know that that's the worst thing you can do? How's a man supposed to act without feeling anything?"
"Lieutenant Commander!" A young medic ran up. "It's Kubomi, sir!"
That snapped him out of his funk. "What's his condition, soldier?!"
"He's awake!" The medic had tears in his eyes. "And he's starting to remember! He's gonna be alright sir! He's gonna be alright!"
