"Every day,
She sees her life.
In fade away,
And pass her by"
Two Feet, Her Life
By the time they reached the island that Blackbeard had been gathering crew on, Helmeppo was on a level that Static would say was start-of-canon-Zoro level but Rika would say at least a Lieutenant slash Vice Admiral level.
And herself with her beautiful Naginata?
She was... still figuring out how not to hit herself with the pole.
It was long, almost ten foot, and she could be proficient at it, but it was a tad too long. Before they even started looking for Blackbeard, she'd got herself a shorter one, only eight foot.
It was much easier to use, and she'd say for polework, she was at least on Scariest-time-Nami-used-the-Climatact Levels, before the timeskip, that is. So the trio of Marines warmed up and began their search on the New World pirate who was probably going to kill them.
Undeniably, Owen was annoyed. Three of his brothers acted like crackheads, one was consumed by his planet-sized ego and the last of them were just assholes and/or tired. The Moby Dick turned into port and docked, the humongous island they'd docked at dwarfing the normally much larger ship.
The'd come to hunt the traitor, so they were all serious (Except Theo who was still Haki Mad) and didn't even stop to gawp at store windows. They were on the warpath and anyone who tried to stop them would go down too.
Garp knew the situation was a tad too serious, but oh well. He was grinning anyways.
If his kiddie-os did this right, they'd be promoted. He knew it. The three of them? Taking out a pirate who'd been to the new world and back, and even had rumours that he gave Red-Hair Shanks his scars? If that didn't grab Sengoku's attention by the balls, he didn't know what would.
He was sure Coby would get an Admiral Position. They were down one, anyway, usually having five, knocked down to four. He certainly had the growth rate for it (nobody actually knew why every admiral was 10ft+). The boy had the strength for it and most certainly the will. He might deteriorate under the pressure though.. he'd make it, that was for sure. But could he keep it?
Helmeppo... Was harder to say. Vice-Admiral, maybe, but not at first. Lieutenant maybe, then Vice Admiral. When he was skilled at something he mastered it, and when he failed at something he quit. It'd be a boon and a problem.
Rika, well, that was indefinite. She liked to hop around being proficient at something, having an exponential boom in growth, then revert back to learning at the same pace something else. Not to say she was bad at the things she stopped focusing on; he'd got her last letter, she'd been wearing weights the whole time she was gone ( almost half a year already, could you believe it?) and had even picked up polearm weapons. She was still fabulous at infiltration, judging by the whole slave trader thing he made them do, and he was pretty sure her Devil fruit made her a silent killer. The poor news coo that delivered the letter looked ten kinds of traumatised. She'd probably start small, Ship Captain, move up to Fleet advisor, then Fleet Commander, then randomly shoot up to Vice-Admiral or Platoon commander. Something like that anyways.
He was proud of his brats. All three talented in Observation and Armament, One silent like the night, One as skilled with a blade as any other, and One with Conqueror's, control even better than his. They'd do well for this world, even if Aburame M. Rika wasn't a registered name in anything and he'd heard them all, at least once, crying in pain in their sleep.
They were like swords; steel being tempered, hammered into the mould. They were sharp but not razor yet. He was sure such a promotion would greatly benefit them all.
Blackbeard didn't know what changed. Sure, that beautiful fruit had been brought aboard, but those brothers on the ship got a letter and suddenly stuff changed. He was never alone and that dark haired one was stuck on Izo like glue, And the darkest blonde one side-eyed him like he knew.
He struck that one night, and not surprising, the brothers had stuck around and the warning bell was rung.
He was almost caught, but he escaped off the skin of his teeth, fruit clenched in jaw. He faded into the shadows and melded into the night, letting the shadow of a piece of flotsam revitalize him and enjoyed the feel of the wet wood disappear under him as he disappeared into nothing.
Rika couldn't believe she'd been roped into this. Again.
She morphed into Maria, her chest looking larger as her waist was crimped into a dinky corset. She put on the teal dress under the corset, because the corset flared the dress and made it look like her hips were larger than they were in reality. This time Helmeppo had even hired a stylist, slicking her lips a brilliant Fuschia and making her eyelashes touch her eyebrows and brush her cheeks. A subtle champagne behind her eyes and a light blush highlighted her features and a tiny bit of highlighter made her glow bronze.
She had teal kitten heeled ankle booties and lots of shiny jewelry with teal coloured stones embedded in them. Her Ruby rings and two pirate branded necklaces yet again went in her bra and she managed to hide a considerably large hunting knife in there for emergencies.
Feeling dolled up yet somehow awkward, she walked into the bar with a confident stride, one leg in front of the other because according to a Women's tips' magazine they'd bought (read: paid the shopkeeper to lend them for half hour) it made her butt look better (how? Lost on her).
Her tail had been squished under her dress and the corset, which hurt, but not as much as her ears. They were pinned to her head with clips and disguised with two fancy bows which held her hair up in a pretty half-up half down. She walked to the bar and ordered herself a Shirley temple (Which, by the way, was called a Jolly Roger here. You can bet how awkward she felt trying to order herself one), waiting for his attention.
She heard him walk up behind her, steps surprisingly... quiet for someone him size. He was no louder than a loud mouse in a quiet church.
"I'll pay for her drink," he said, his loud rumbling voice drawing the attention of his new crew and the group crouched outside the window.
"Many thanks," She told him politely, " But you don't have to." Blackbeard smiled a sooty-toothed grin that might have seemed chivalrous if he were anyone else.
"Ah, but letting a beautiful woman pay for her own drinks?" Blackbeard chuckled, "Unacceptable. If there's anything my Ma' taught me, it was treat a pretty lady nicely," (Lies! This man was an orphan and a dickbag!) She giggled politely anyway and smiled.
"Thank you, then. I won't deny a man his priorities. Would you like to dance, after a drink?" A piano was plinking prettily somewhere behind them. He agreed and ordered himself a Lager, sharing a laid back conversation concerning the weather.
Three hours later, one of them was faking drunkenness and the other was halfway there, the pair of them trundling out the bar's main exit.
(In case you were wondering, Rika's the first and Blackbeard's the second)
(God, how she loved alcohol neutralizing lemon pills. What an invention. Somebody get some for her world, honestly.)
Blackbeard suddenly stopped in the middle off the pavement, turning to her and clasping her hands.
"Join 'y crew 'Ria."
It wasn't a request.