A/N: Happy One Month Anniversary to this fic~ Welcome to the chapter.
23. Exposed
Luffy was gonna have to stay at Law's place alone since he was headed to the Going Merry. He tried to get the teen to go back to his dorm so he would at least be with some company, but he didn't want to leave. Said he wanted to stay at Law's for the time being, so he left it as such. As the older was leaving, he felt Luffy's arms snake around his waist and hug him tightly. "Come back soon," he murmured into his back. Law turned and planted a loving kiss against his hair, returning the embrace fiercely.
Law exits his car and stares up at the building, pulsing with vibrant lights against the darkness. "I will," he replies to the wind.
He glances at his watch. It was a little past half till midnight, just as Corazon instructed him to arrive at. Law was to go to VIP, order a glass, then pretend to pass out around twelve. Corazon had mentioned also having a feeling the drug was slipped in them, due to his brother's insistence that drinks be brought to the customer rather than poured before them. When Law reminded the blonde that Luffy's customer passed out after drinking something, and he himself recalled the woman doing so as well, it had practically sealed the deal.
The surgeon's friends were slated to arrive around the same time. By the time he was 'passed out' and Corazon arrived on the scene, they should too. If anything went south with his encounter with security, they could help Corazon to bail him out.
Law readjusts the dark purple suspenders that hugged his white dress shirt as he approaches. The gold designs on them combined with the gold buckles brought out his eyes. At least, that's what Luffy had complimented quietly. He finished off the fit with the gold earrings that Luffy gave the same praise, a gold watch, dark slacks, and dress shoes of the same color. He felt like a VIP, as inappropriate as the emotion might be at the moment.
When he pushes through the doors, he's ready to engage in a lazy conversation with the dark haired bouncer again, maybe even crack a few dark jokes here or there, but he sees a new face. Law frowns as he takes in the green haired woman who nursed a cup of water. Her bright curls reached her waist, and her hazy amber eyes narrowed knowingly at him over the rim. She dressed rather casually, in a forest green spaghetti tank from what Law could see. He glances at her name tag. Monet. The woman smirks at him when she notices where his gaze dips to. Law's eyes twitch. He could already tell that this one was going to be a handful.
"Trafalgar Law." Her inflection rises at the end, and it's not a question. It's as if his presence doesn't surprise her. She sets down the water and tilts her head in greeting. "Welcome in."
"Who are you?" he asks carefully, closing the distance between himself and the desk. "Where's Crocodile?"
The woman shrugs an indifferent shoulder. "I dunno. Heard he was sick. I was asked to come in instead."
"How do you know my name?"
She holds up a list and waves the papers. "Anyone who works here would be a fool to not know who you are."
The surgeon's features morph into suspicion. "I've never seen you here before."
"You see me here now, though," Monet replies flirtatiously, batting her lashes. "So don't you worry your cute little head and go on in."
Law doesn't move. "I called earlier and spoke to Crocodile. He knows my friends should be coming later tonight. Let them in."
The green haired shoos him away. "Sure thing, sweetie."
Something isn't right. Her words sound sincere, but the way she regarded him was full of mischief. Not to mention…
He sniffed the air. There was that all-consuming scent of the drug, which he swears is a bit stronger near her, but there was something else just under it. The unmistakable smell of blood. It was smothered by bleach and other fresh smelling cleaning products, so to the untrained nose, it would seem as though someone had simply cleaned the place. But Law's brain had picked apart the metallic scent as meticulously as he picks at beating hearts in his surgeries.
Someone wanted to hide something, and whatever it was, it must have happened no more than a few hours ago.
"Do you smell something weird?" His voice is laced with accusation, and his sharp gray eyes find her own. The amusement that lied in them was a dead giveaway she knew, but her face remained expressionless.
"No, I don't," Monet replies smoothly. She raises a brow at him, but it comes across more teasing than irritated. "Is that the last question? If so, have I passed your test?"
"To be honest? No."
The green haired cracks a smile. "Tragic. Will you be my tutor then? Maybe we could 'study' over a drink or two?"
Law's face drops into one of disgust. "Sorry, I'm taken." His tone is final and nowhere near apologetic.
"Is that so," she huffs, leaning back in her chair. "And here I was thinking we could bond a little."
"Well I wasn't," the surgeon deadpans, watching her warily before he turns to the right. He makes his way down the dark hall that leads to the VIP section, lit by the faint lights from inside the club.
Monet watches him out the corner of her eyes and waits until she hears the door at the end open and close. There's a beat of silence before she pulls out a phone and dials a number.
"It's almost a quarter till, did you want me to wait until midnight to stop customer flow?"
The voice on the other side chuckles darkly before sniffing up snot. "How many people have gone through?"
Monet flips through her list. "Oh god, I don't know. A few hundred? Maybe pushing five?"
"That's more than plenty. As long as we have enough people making noise and being a distraction, we won't need any more coming in."
She sets down the papers. "Roger that."
"I would stay there though, to turn away any guests that try to come in after." There's a wicked smile on the other end. "Wouldn't want anyone to interrupt my special time with the blonde clown."
"I see." The green haired narrows her eyes at the name on the list before her. Trafalgar Law. "By the way, I let him in like you wanted. He's a cute one, but he asks too many damn questions. Sure it was the right decision?"
Another wet inhale that shook with laughter. Monet grimaces at the sound. "I'd much rather us take care of him now before he becomes a threat to us later. Don't worry. You focus on your job, and we'll focus on ours."
"Got it."
The green haired ends the call and watches the front door tiredly, waiting for more customers. Being called in like this for Doflamingo's ground work was nothing short of irritating, but she owed the man. If things went well tonight, she might even be invited into the Family.
She sighs and taps the desk before her. Time was going by so slowly. She silently wishes that Trebol and the others would hurry their plan along so she could go home and sleep. It was the least they could do for having her sit here for hours on end. How Crocodile did it all this time, she had no idea. The man must have had amazing stamina, or endless patience, or something. Maybe she should ask him.
"How did you do it, Croc Boy?" she coos, kicking under the table. "How did you stay here for ages and not want to sock everyone who came through the door?"
Her shoe comes back red, and she scowls down at it. Her gaze slides underneath the wood to the slumped form. "Listen. We're supposed to be cooperative, alright? I let you stay here instead of the back of the van. The least you could do is talk to me."
There's no response. Monet sighs. "Not talkative, huh?"
The man groans softly against the gag in his mouth, brows furrowed in pain. The green haired woman bops her head eagerly, urging him to speak. "Yes, yes? What is it, Croc Boy?" She removes the gag swiftly, allowing him to take in a liquid filled breath. He coughs out blood, and it splatters on the underside of the furniture.
"...Fuck you," Crocodile manages hoarsely, glaring up at the distasteful woman. His entire body sagged under the profound pain, so much so that even if he didn't have restraints, he wouldn't be able to move. The man was stiff from being under the desk for so long, and his head was thick with nausea. He had woken up not too long ago to the sound of the owner's son walking away. If only he wasn't gagged, if he wasn't losing so much blood, if he wasn't so helpless.
He would've warned the man to be careful.
Monet rubs a thumb from his temple to this jaw, and comes away with blood. She brings the liquid to her lips and licks, giving him a warm smile. "You're not my type," she whispers.
The woman fishes for a plastic bag of powder she received from Trebol that evening from her pocket. She stands, pouring the contents into the water. She gives the cup a swirl until the powder has dissolved. She was told to use it if Crocodile needed to take a long nap. Once the liquid looks like water again, she returns the empty plastic to her pants and bends with the concoction.
"Drink," she commands, holding the cup to his bruised lips. Crocodile breathes deep for a minute before smirking.
"Go to hell."
He cries out in pain as Monet grips his jaw tightly, nails digging into the already wounded flesh. Her eyes are slits as she forces his jaw open and pours the liquid down. "Don't make me fucking repeat myself," she hisses in a low voice. Crocodile nearly chokes on the water as he partakes against his will, but he has enough dignity to not do exactly as the woman saw fit. He spits the last gulps back in her face, and she freezes in disgusted shock.
Monet looks down at her wet clothing, to her left arm, to her right. Then she faces Crocodile with a murderous glower. The woman brings up a soaked arm and curls her hand into a fist, wrapping the other in the clothing at his collarbone. "You couldn't just sit and wait quietly for your death, could you?"
From inside the club, Law hears a strangled cry. He whips his head to the noise, but it's just a man with a woman on his lap in the non VIP section, throwing his head back in ecstasy as she ground against him. The surgeon takes a breath and wills his heart to stop beating so damn hard. He needed to stop getting worked up over every little thing. The club was always this loud. It was normal. There were bound to be noises like that everywhere.
From the bar stood the same unrecognizable woman from the day of the incident. Law narrowed his eyes. Corazon reminded him in a text to be wary of all of the newcomers. Any one of them could be in on it. She greets him with a small smile but he doesn't acknowledge it, instead making his way to his special seat. It wasn't a much sought over spot, so it was usually empty for him despite the busyness of the club.
The Going Merry was packed fuller than he's ever seen it. It wasn't time for performances yet, so he surveyed the club instead. Every table in the VIP section was filled with laughing, drinking guests. He looks over to the lower level, at the swarm of moving bodies packed like sardines on the dance floor, covered in sensual lights from above. They all seemed so happy. They were completely oblivious to the darkness that went on behind the scenes, to the risk they undertook coming to this club. It's scary to think that Law and his friends were just as oblivious when they had first arrived.
Speaking of which.
The man pulls out his phone and brings up their group chat, skimming quickly over the messages. Though the situation was pressing, he had to chuckle at their antics. He's glad that Bepo and the others were starting to feel better enough to joke around.
P: We'll be there soon, shachi took forever
getting ready. Like, longer than u did
for ur date
P: traffic is a bitch, too.
There's a discrepancy between the time he texts and the times the others do. Law assumes that he's the one driving.
B: law when we get there can you beat his ass? we
waited like 15 min for him to get rdy when we
TOLD him when we'd be there. wasted our time.
S: T-T u guys are awful, i cldnt find my shirt ._. U guys
want me to go shirtless? :(
B: the way u text is giving me cancer. pls stop.
Law's fingers fly over the keys.
L: You're a doctor, should you really be saying
things like that? You've been around Shachi
for too long.
B: nothing annoys me more than the way he texts
S: ╭∩╮（︶︿︶）╭∩╮
B: this boy thinks he's safe bc he's in the front seat.
brb.
L: How far away are you all?
He doesn't get a response for a solid five minutes. The surgeon briefly wonders if by the time they get there, they'll be any more of Shachi for him to supposedly beat up.
B: im back. we're like ten minutes away.
Law glances at the time. 11:47 PM.
L: Okay, good. There's a new bouncer at the door,
she's a woman. Think her name is Monet? She
should let you guys in, but text me if
there's any trouble.
There's a minute of silence before a new text appears.
B: Peng wants to know if she's hot.
L: She's not.
B: now he says you're lying, bc ur judgement
is biased bc of luffy.
L: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
S: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) i think u kno, law ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
L: God damn it, Shachi.
The tattooed stuffs the device in his pocket and lets himself relax. They were gonna be there soon. He just had to hold on for another ten minutes. He could do ten minutes.
It's the same waitress from that night that approaches him as well. She bends close to him to speak, and she smells like nothing but the drug.
"Here's your drink, sir," she says sweetly, setting down a red liquid before him. Law furrows his eyes at the glass and frowns at her. "I didn't order anything."
"It's on the house," she says simply, bowing to him.
Law's about to raise more objections before pausing. This was perfect for him, wasn't it? He could pretend to drink it around midnight and pass out that way.
The surgeon closes his mouth. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," the girl beams at him. She turns on her heel and marches over to another customer, chirping away.
Law studies the liquid. It looked like a cosmopolitan, but he knew better than to blindly believe that. He brings it to his eyes, scrutinizing it carefully. Nothing seemed off about it- to the unsuspecting eye, it was a perfectly crafted drink. But when he sniffed it, there were faint traces of the drug. The surgeon frowns. Were they trying to hurt him?
Regardless of their intentions, he sets the glass down. He wouldn't be touching it again until his friends arrived. He pulls out his phone again, and finds Corazon's contact.
Hey, I'm here.
The older man responds so fast, it's as if he was waiting for the text on his phone. Law has to bite back a smile at the realization that he probably was.
-Yaaaaay!~💜 I'm happy you're here!
Law can't hide his smile anymore. He lets it stretch his lips out and up as he types a response.
Can you not come out?
-No, sadly.💔 If we make contact, that might
raise concern. Let's keep our distance
until they surround you.
I understand. I'm fainting at
midnight, right?
-Yup! And I'll be out to save you 💜 💜
As you always do, dad.
-Oh, you flatter me~💜 be careful, son.
Luv uuu 💜
Love you too.
The surgeon switches off his phone and places it back in his pocket. Now, all he had to do was wait and refrain from looking as conspicuous as possible. But he found that to be increasingly difficult, as his limbs jumped with nerves and his heart hammered a fast rhythm in his chest. His earlier attempts at calming himself down were in vain. Law was bound to be on edge. He sighs deeply and watches the ever shifting crowd dance to the rap heavy music.
Ten minutes passed before he knew it. It's 11:57 PM.
With each passing minute, Law felt his head pound with the reality of the situation. He was supposed to pretend to be knocked out. The man was no actor, but he could at least try to replicate what a passed out person looked like due to his medical background. He just hoped none of the security men would check his pulse before Corazon or his friends came. It would make their plan completely fall apart.
11:59 PM.
Law chews the inside of his cheek and brings out his phone. He brings up Corazon's contact and texts.
I'm fainting now.
He waits until the message turns to 'read' before jumping over to the group chat.
L: You guys here yet?
B: Yeah, we're pulling in now.
S: Don't have 2 much fun
until we get there! :D
Law replaces the phone in his pocket. It was time. He bends forward to the glass and brings it up to his mouth. The surgeon makes sure his back faces the bar so it seems like he's partaking of the drink. He slightly tilts his head back, holding the cup close to his lips, but not quite touching. Then he pretends to knock back a swallow. Two swallows. Three.
Then the liquid is spilled about the floor, and he's falling. The man lands roughly on his side, hands subtly bracing for the impact before they go limp. An excruciating ache shoots through his left hip from the jarring contact with the floor, and the surgeon groans internally. That was sure to hurt like a bitch later.
Law hears outbursts of worry as panic begins to ensue around him. He focuses on shallowing his breaths and keeping his eyes closed and still. The cocktail soaks the side of his shirt and pants but he ignores the uncomfortable feeling of the wet clothes. Law sees rapid movement through his lids, and feels the presence of multiple guests surround him.
"Oi fella, you alright?" a gruff man asks, flipping him on his back. Law feels a hand on his head, checking for a fever. "I think he's a little hot. Maybe he overheated?"
Fucking idiot, Law thinks, wrestling with his mouth to not quirk upwards, my temperature shouldn't be priority. You need to check if I'm-
"Is he breathing?" another voice calls out, concerned. "Oh god, should I call an ambulance?"
"No need. Please move."
There's a shuffle of feet and more movement behind Law's closed lids. The voice is unfamiliar, but they seem to have authority of some sort, because the crowd seem to have made way for them. Good. All according to plan.
"We're the security here. Please give us space to care for this man. Time is of the essence," the voice continues. Huh. It's not the voice of the head of security, but someone different. A woman. "We've seen scenes like this before here. Please let us take care of it."
"Will he be ok?" a man asks frightfully.
"He's going to the hospital now. You don't need to concern yourself with him any longer."
"Oh! I see the ambulance outside. I hope he'll be alright..."
"He is being taken care of. Please relax and enjoy the rest of your night."
They're the same words from when the woman in front of him collapsed, but said by a different person. What was going on? Law feels himself get loaded onto a stretcher, and is heaved upwards from the floor. He begins to panic. Corazon was supposed to come and talk to these guys. Where was he? And even his friends...as far as he could tell, they weren't in the vicinity.
Where was everyone?
Law remains still as he feels himself get carried through the club. He strains his ear to listen for his name being called out by Corazon, or for his friends to come bounding up to the men that surround him, but there's nothing but the thumping music and delighted cheering of the crowd at Zoro, who had apparently just appeared on stage. His stomach flops as he lays on the canvas, the cold of the iron bars on each side ramming into his shoulders, jostling him as they move. They're not even pretending to be careful. Actually, it may even be the exact opposite- they're trying to make it as uncomfortable as possible. Law feels his transporters' eyes on him, and he can tell that they're full of malice and contempt. Then, they begin speaking.
"You sure you saw him drink it?" The woman that spoke first.
"Yeah. He was out like a light after." A man.
"Good. Everything will run smoothly with him out the way." Another man.
"We still need to hurry though." A third man.
"Agreed. Let's get him in the van so we can come back and help the Head, okay?" The first woman.
There's a small chorus of agreements. Was it only those four? When security encountered him with the woman all those days ago, there were enough of them to surround the scene and block out any prying eyes. But now there were only four of them?
The people carrying him push through the front doors of the Going Merry, and Law feels the night wind gently stroke his skin. There's red and blue dancing across his lids. This must be the ambulance.
Then he's set on the ground. Or not.
"Are we taking him to Caesar?" the second man asks. There's a sound of doors opening. Likely to the vehicle.
"No you idiot," the woman seethes. "We're taking care of him. We'll drive a ways off so no one can see or hear us."
Law feels a coldness seep through him. Were they planning to kill him?
And who the hell is Caesar?
This might be why they didn't bother checking his pulse when they first got there. It wouldn't matter if he was already going to die. Either that, or because these guys were different and didn't know to check. Thinking about it made his head spin.
The four take each corner of his stretcher and shove him roughly off it, into the back of the van. He tumbles ungracefully across the smooth surface of the floor until his back hits something metal and hard. The impact sends a jolt of pain down his spine, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. This was insane. Why in the world did it feel like he was getting kidnapped?
Law needed to keep his head screwed on or he was going to end up losing it. He steadies his heart and listens carefully. If no one was going to come and save him, then he was gonna have to do it himself. Law had the element of surprise on his side, and he could only use it once. If he times things right, he could take them down quickly and return to the Going Merry to look for Corazon. It's been a while, but Law was confident he could still take on a few underlings. Hopefully, they weren't armed. That was his only gamble. That could make his situation turn real messy, real quick.
"Close the doors, guys," the woman commands. Law assumes she's the leader. "Lets go."
Law feels the familiar rumble of a car starting as there's a slam near his feet. His body lunches backwards and crashes into the closed door as the van begins to move forward. He's kicked onto his side, and his nose crashes against something that feels like wood. Law feels a warm trickle of blood as he hears a snarl from behind him.
"Why the hell didn't we restrain him so he's still? I don't want the alcohol from his shirt ruining my new shoes." It's the voice of the third man.
"Not my fault," the woman calls out from the front. "A certain someone was jumping the gun to apprehend him."
"I'm sorry! I just wanted to get him quickly so we can return and help the Head." It's the second voice.
The woman sighs. "You guys can tie him up if you want to."
A shoe comes down on his side, stomping forcefully. Law has to bite his lip against the pain that exploded in his ribs. "We're only going to the rendezvous point, right? That's not that far." It's the first man.
"Yes, but-"
"Then it's okay. This guy isn't even twitching. Let's go there and get this over with."
The surgeon holds his breath until the foot is removed from his side, and he blows out air slowly, silently. There's a hot, merciless throb where the foot connected, and Law grits his teeth, begging his body to bare with it for now. It had to.
Law knew that if he wanted to make it out of this alive, he was going to have to act now, before he got too far away from the club. Law opens his eyes ever so slightly and sees the edge of a leather clad heel. He was looking under a bench of some sort, and enough of his head was under it that he can safely assume that no one was watching his face. He opens his eyes wider to take in his surroundings.
The inside of the back of the scantily lit van is a dreary white. It was quite dilapidated- metal was peeling off the sides and dirt littered the floor. He lies on his left side in what he believes to be the middle of it, body stretched parallel to the long walls. Since his head was currently under a bench, he assumes there must be a matching one on the other side. Men like their space, and he doubts three would willingly sit together if another was available. He looks up, and he catches the bottom of what seems to be the metal he crashed into earlier. It's a part of a partition separating the front end of the van from the back. Below him, he sees the end of the bench, and just beyond that, the closed back doors. On Law's left is the reflective floor, so he glances down at the sliver of light that poked through between the shadow of his head and the shadow of his bench. His nose has a nasty bruise on it, and dried blood paints on his upper lip. His left cheek was swelling. There's a constant pain all along his left arm, side, and leg. Between his fall in the Going Merry and the aggression these guys showed him while hauling him into the van, the entire side ached.
Law inhales more intentionally. The van was absolutely drowning in the scent of the drug. It's much worse here than in the Going Merry.
Now then. It was time. Law closes his eyes, readying himself. Though it's been a long time since he's been in a situation like this, muscle memory was ready to make up for his lack of practice. He licks his lips and opens his eyes again, resolve hardening his features. He was now the Surgeon of Death. A ruthless fighting machine who gave no fucks and did as he pleased.
Claiming the epithet again came with guilt, but he had no choice.
"What the-"
Law grabs the leg of the nearest man and flips him on the floor, and he lands with a loud smack of flesh on metal. He grips his slender leg so hard it draws out pained screams. Then the surgeon curls himself inward to bring up a swift leg, kicking the fallen man's side with all the strength he could muster. It seems to be more than he thought, because the man flies back to the partition, and it shudders under his weight before he falls to silence. The two men above him watch in stunned horror.
Law rises shakily to his feet, getting used to the rocking motion of the moving van. There's a bigger man on his left and a man of average build in front of him. Including the woman in front, there really were only four of them. A smirk curls his mouth.
He could do this.
"What's going on back there?" the woman calls out frantically. "Hell was that noise?"
"This fucker- shit!"
Law curls his arm into a punch and lunges forward, connecting with the jugular of the guy before he finishes the sentence. The surgeon follows up with an undercut to his gut, and he goes down with a wet cough, holding his throat and stomach gingerly. The man on his right grabbed around his middle in the hustle, attempting to tackle him. When the average built man goes down, it provides the bigger man space to use his weight and propel them both forward, pinning Law between him and the side of the van. This earns the surgeon a face full of shelving, and he grimaces at the wood sinking into his already bruised cheek. There's hot breath on his neck as the man grits into his ear. "You weren't really down, were ya?" One of his hands makes its way towards Law's throat. "Sneaky little-"
Law brings up a knee, kicking back brutally at the other's groin. It's a low blow, but the surgeon honestly doesn't give a shit. The third man goes down slowly, holding his crotch. Law brings back his elbow and socks him across the cheek for good measure, and he flies across the van, hitting the van door with a sickening crunch before joining his comrades on the floor. The surgeon cracks his neck, cracks his knuckles, shakes out his limbs. Light work.
The car has stopped. Law hears the front door open and close, and angry steps round the van. "Alright, what the hell is going on back there?!"
Law positions himself low behind the door, away from the window. Once the first door opens and moonlight pours through, the surgeon pounces on the woman, knocking her down onto her back. She lands with a grunt, and looks up to Law with angry, wild eyes. He's got his left forearm shoved up under her chin, limiting her airflow, and the other hand is cocked back, prepped for a strike. He's situated his weight on the woman, legs straddling her own to prevent her from moving. Below him she coughs, but weakly chuckles.
"You're...awake," she chokes out. The woman wastes no time on her surprise though, because then there's the sound of safety being switched off, and Law's body moves before he can think. He jerks his head and elbow to the right as the bullet whizzes past his shoulder, just barely grazing it. Blood oozes from the injury, and a deep ache blossoms in his upper arm. Law scowls darkly at the pain. This bitch.
The surgeon slaps the weapon out of her inexperienced hands, and it skids noisily across the pavement. The woman pushes him off and reaches for the gun, but Law's faster, grabbing her ankle so she falls just short of it. Colorful curses fly out her mouth as her knees connect with concrete harshly. Law jerks her in his direction, away from the weapon, and bends to take her chin into his right hand. His grip is tight enough to leave crescent shapes from his nails in her pale face. The woman glares at him, not intimidated in the slightest.
"Who the fuck are you?" Law almost doesn't recognize his voice. It's guttural, more husky. It promised violence if she didn't satisfy him with her answer.
The woman deals a powerful kick to his shin, but Law doesn't budge. He responds by bringing his other hand to her neck, squeezing despite the fire that sears through the limb. The man narrows his eyes venomously as she gasps for air, clawing at his arms. After he counts to ten, he lets his grip relax, and the woman greedily inhales, letting her arms drop to her sides. "Let's try this again. Who the fuck are you?"
Below him, the woman's chest heaves as she takes in precious oxygen. Her eyes sparkle with pride despite the injuries and blood stains adorning her body, and she smirks up at him. Despite everything, Law rewards her confidence with a smirk of his own. He loved the feistiness.
She huffs through her nose. "No one you'd want to fuck with if you love yourself."
Law barks out a laugh, and squeezes her jaw harshly. "Sorry, miss. Wrong answer." He aims for the temple, and with a swift chop, she's down for the count. Law drops her limp body on the pavement. "Pity I don't."
The surgeon rolls back his shoulders, shrugging off his suspenders so he could stretch better. He stands up straight and reaches for the sky, finally free of his captors. He comes back down and squints about him. The moon illuminated his surroundings, allowing Law to take a gander at exactly where he was.
And...he has no idea.
Just how long was he riding in the van before he made a move?
They were driving in a residential area, with low houses and green lawns on either side of the road. Dim street lamps and narrow sidewalks crossed in front of each house, and when Law looks ahead to where the van was headed, he sees a stop sign. The road after seems to branch left or right. Behind him, there are endless rows of houses. He frowns. The man had never seen this side of town before.
Law lugs the woman into the van with her comrades, and kicks her gun into a nearby sewer. No need to take it with him, that would only complicate things. He heads into the back of the van and checks over the other men carefully. They were each groggy with pain, on the verge of passing out. The man enters the cabin and deals precise blows to their heads, making them take that final step into temporary darkness. They went down much easier than he had expected. Whoever wanted to silence him must not know him, or have vastly underestimated him. If they really wanted to kill him, they should've sent more people with more experience.
But these guys, they didn't look familiar to him at all. He recognized none of them from the crowd of security that approached him on the day of the incident. No wonder the leader couldn't aim a gun for her life. They must have been stand-ins or substitutes of some sort.
His grazed shoulder, nose, and left side all pulsate with pain, reminding him that he was in fact, very hurt in the midst of all this. He gingerly holds the most threatening, the bullet wound, with a frown. He needed to put pressure on it somehow. Law finds a pocket knife in the back of the van and makes quick work of his bloody sleeve, turning it into a makeshift bandage to wrap around the graze. It didn't hit him, thank god, but it was deep enough for thick streams of blood to run down his arm in earnest. Once he finishes tightening the cloth as best as he could with one arm, he wipes the blood on his pants- despite his doctoral senses chastising him- and stands. He tries his best to take his mind off the pain and focuses on more important things.
Like the scent coming from the back of the truck.
He pushes the bodies out of the way as he peers curiously at the shelves that lined the top half of the walls in the van. They were stocked with miscellaneous objects, strapped down so they wouldn't move- face masks, gags, blindfolds, handcuffs, zip ties, water bottles, gloves, more rounds for the gun, flashlights, among many other things. One of the more prominent items is a cardboard box labeled 'Phase Two'.
Law furrows his brows and brings down the box. It's light, but reeked heavily. Could it be? He unfolds the flaps that held it closed and widens his eyes as he looks down at the contents. In small, prepackaged bags are a measured amount of white powder. There must have been at least forty or fifty in that small box alone. Law lets go of a shaky breath at the sight.
"Fucking hell," he murmurs, clutching the box. "They hid this shit in here."
He found it. He fucking found it. The giddiness that spread through him at the discovery was unparalleled. The man closes it swiftly, folding the flaps under one another. Law needed to get this to authorities and put a stop to all of this nonsense. Their lives could finally go back to normal. The surgeon jumps out the van and closes the door behind him, locking his captors in the back. He rounds the car to the front door. Luckily, the woman left the keys in the ignition, switched off. She probably thought she would be out for a moment or two before returning. What an idiot. It was his lucky day.
Law slides into the driver's seat and turns on the engine, and it hums to life. He leans the box onto the passenger seat and clicks on his seat belt. The time on the radio read 12:17 AM. Damn, it hadn't even been twenty minutes? That was good, because that means that he really wasn't far from the Going Merry.
The man presses lightly on the gas and the van surges forward. He rolls to a stop at the sign before turning the only way the road allowed- left. He makes the turn and finds himself heading back into the city, judging by the lights in the far distance. That was good. The Going Merry was right outside city limits. As houses, trees, and fences pass him, Law feels a faint calm overcome him. He was going to be alright. This was certainly not expected, nor was it welcomed, but he came out of it with all his limbs attached, and his head somehow still on straight.
Ahead of him rests a police car at the top of a small hill. The man almost rejoices at the sight. The officers would be able to help him get out of this headache. Law parks the van behind the monotone vehicle and switches off the engine. He reaches for the box of the drug and hops out the van in one smooth movement. Except it's not, and he nearly trips over his own feet and falls. Law holds onto the side of the car for a moment, catching his breath. He may have had muscle memory, but the amount of labor he put said muscles through tonight was the most in a long while, and they yearned for rest.
Law ignores their cries as he slowly makes his way to the car, holding his side. When he reaches the tinted window, he knocks lightly against it, and a man in his late thirties, early forties rolls it down. He raises his gold rimmed shaded gaze to Law, taking in his tattered state. "You seem to be having quite the night." His voice is amused, and his lips barely quirk up.
The tattooed frowns, not understanding what was funny. "I need your help."
The ghost of a smile is gone from the officer. He steps out from the car, and Law's eyes widen at his height. The man had nearly two feet on Law. He was by far the tallest man he's ever seen. And...was that a piece of meat on his cheek? The surgeon steps back a little to distance himself between him and the imposing man.
"This..." Law begins breathlessly, holding out the box to the man, "is a drug. It's being used in a strip club near here, called the Going Merry. I think it makes people pass out, or something."
The officer takes the item and opens it. Law can't see his eyes through the dark glasses, but he can tell that the man was deeply troubled. He closes the box. "Where did you find this?"
Law juts a thumb over to the van, and the man before him follows with his eyes. "In there. I was abducted by the roughed up guys in the back. I barely managed to make it out alive. When I was searching the van, I found that."
The dark haired man nods slowly, returning his gaze to Law. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Law lies through clenched teeth.
The man regards him steadily for a moment but relents. "Okay." He peers into the car. "Hey. You drive that van to the station."
He looks at Law. "Go ahead and sit in the backseat. We'll take you to the station for more questioning and get you looked at, okay? I need to make a quick call."
The surgeon sighs gratefully. "Thank you, officer."
Law slips into the car as a pink haired haired man exits the passenger seat. Law swears he's seen the man before, but his head hurt too much to think about it much. He watches the pink haired officer converse quietly with the taller before jogging to the van. There's a small shriek of surprise when he opens the back and sees the bodies. Law chuckles, but it turns into hacking coughs. He desperately needed a bed. And maybe some wine.
Soon, the slighter officer enters the front door to the van. He switches on the engine, then he's rumbling away.
The surgeon watches the van go with a renewed sense of relief. He pulls out his phone for the first time since the club. He really should've contacted his friends and Corazon sooner. Law's notifications are filled with Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin asking him where he was. According to their messages, they were held up outside the club with other latecomers for an unexplainable reason. Something about security?
Law furrows his brows. He had told that Monet girl to let them in. What was the issue? He was the owner's son. Surely, Law had enough credibility to let his friends enter at least.
Then. Law opens Corazon's texts. He pales as cold ice seeps into his bones.
The blonde has been trying to get into contact with him since midnight.
12:03 AM
Law, god Law are you there?
God, they tried to get me. they tried to
kill me. You 'fainted' right?
Where are you? Are you alright?
12:04 AM
You wont believe this. The head is trebol.
Trebol! I didn't recognize him, he's
changed so much. He did a number
on me, but i'll live. Im more worried
about u. please get back to me asap
12:07 AM
Security is still on my tail, I'm trying to shake
them off. There's so MANY of them. They must
have planned this. Please respond, i'm
so scared for you. God pls be okay.
What the fuck was going on at the Going Merry?
Someone was plotting to kill Corazon? Anger nearly bubbled over within him until a voice in the back of his head told him to calm the hell down. Corazon was a much better fighter than he, growing up alongside Doflamingo. Not to mention Trebol- god he hadn't heard that name for ages- from what he could remember, was shit at fighting. There's no way he could best the blonde.
Law re-reads the messages. It answered his question about why his captors were so damn weak. They really were the leftovers. It looks like the main ones stayed behind to go after Corazon. He felt the anger coil in his gut again at the thought, but he continues to read.
12:11 AM
I took a lot of them down but they've
blocked the exits so i can't leave.
No one can. Its like the whole place
is under siege from the inside.
Son...get back to me.
12:15 AM
Im worried to death. Please respond.
Im going to try and break through
the barriers. Im sure you're outside
the club since they take people outside
when they faint. Im begging, hoping
ur safe. I miss u. 3
12:16 AM
Before i go, i need to let you know smth
important. Please PLEASE whatever you
do, do NOT TRUST THE POLICE.
I overheard from Trebol when he
was talking to other security.
The police are in on it too!
DO NOT TRUST THEM!
At the last message, his eyes go wide, and he snaps up to the officer, who stood with his back to him, on the phone. Fuck, he had given the man the box of the drug. Fuck, Law had talked about the Going Merry. Fucking fuck, he told the man about the security abducting him!
But the man already knew. He already fucking knew everything.
Law was just unknowingly dancing in the palm of his hand. And it was too late for take backs.
Law exits the car almost as soon as he steps in, body moving like he was underwater. The man turns to him with a questioning brow raised, and holds the phone away from him. "...Did you need something?"
The surgeon felt his stomach begin to hurl. "No. I think I'll...go on foot."
The officer studies him for a few moments. "You'll go on foot...in your condition? You sure? The station isn't far-"
"I'm fine," the tattooed man grits. His limbs felt thick and heavy but he pushed past his mental barriers and started for the sidewalk. "I'll be fine."
Law stares long and hard at the pavement, then looks up with determination. It led down into the city, and once he was there, he could find the Going Merry with ease. If he needed to, he'd rely on his phone's GPS. But he wasn't sure how that would work out considering his hands shook so damn much. He would respond to everyone's texts later, but for now, he needed to get the hell away from this guy.
"If you insist," the officer sighs. Law lets out a shaky breath and makes a dead sprint for the city. His limbs screamed as his heart pumped adrenaline through his body, and it's that energy that allows him to throw exhaustion to the wind as he practically flies across the ground. He needed to be at the Going Merry. This was really fucking bad. He needed to be there like yesterday. Law hopes everything would be alright by the time he got there.
The officer watches as the man disappears down the hill. From his phone, a voice hoarse with smoke grunts. "Huh? What was that, Vergo?"
Vergo eyes the retreating form warily. "Nothing."
"If it's nothing then focus, god damn it!"
"Yes, Chief Akainu."
There's a billow of smoke blown on the other end. "So. They've finally been found out? Doflamingo's club."
Vergo clutches the box in his hands tighter to his chest. "Yes. A man found and gave me a whole case of Phase Two SMILEs. In addition, the van they use to transport test subjects to Caesar's lab has been hijacked. We have it back in our custody, but from the looks of it, they've been thoroughly exposed."
Akainu curses long and low. "That blonde and his cockiness, making our job harder than it needs to be. Now we have no other choice but to do as Kaido requested."
The black haired removes the food from his cheek and chews thoughtfully. "They'll meet the same fate as the coffee place from two years back, right?"
"Yeah. Kaido wants it that way to silence everything." There's another puff of smoke before the voice on the other end speaks.
"It's time to order another Code: Buster Call. We're burning the place to the ground."
A/N: Thank you for reading, as always! Until the next~
P.S. See what Law's outfit generally looks like here. Link in AO3.