Rika trotted after Doflamingo, following him down the stairs into the lower quarters of the building. He was going to apparently chuck a bed in the basement and let her sleep there. She inhaled a single last gasp of fresh air before they entered the musty basement.
She walked down the many steps, eventually reaching the floor, where Doflamingo chucked a bedroll then turned and left. Rika blinked, not entirely surprised. She, instead of settling down on her bedroll, pulled out her Witchlight (those were a thing here- a palm sized chunky light blue crystal that emitted a soft blue light) and began exploring. She rummaged around, looting some interesting stuff, before she discovered The Cylinders. Two eight foot high cylinders, about a foot and a half in diameter and obtrusively stifled away with an obnoxious blue tarp. A peachy light shone through the tarp, and Rika couldn't help but peel it back. She sucked in a breath of horror, dropping her Witchlight and hardly registering the sound of the crystal shattering.
Inko sucked in a breath, before tightening the bandage around his chest. He used a pair of scissors to trim his hair shorter; it had been a while since his last haircut- it was getting suspiciously long. He left the bathroom, either ignoring or not noticing Thatch looking at his chest suspiciously. His gait lowered and he walked into the Canteen.
They didn't want anyone to know, so they endured. Those pesky scientists, that is. Not those two, no, they were long dead. But they hadn't left this world just yet. Not yet. Those damn tranquilizers. When they got their hands on the man with the tranqs, they swore they would hurt him.
Not long left. They'd be strong enough soon.
Then the dark was pulled away and there was a revolving shatter that echoes in the fluid and through their brains.
Donquixote Homing.
A dead man as of his son's patricide over thirty years ago. Blonde, curly long hair. A thick with two 'c''s moustache.
Donquixote Rosinante.
A dead man as of his brother's fratricide. Blonde, straight hair. Dead as of 11 years ago. Jagged line tattoo under his eye, widened lip tattoo.
Right here in front of her. Two Donquixotes. Floating, drifting.
Jagged stitch marks around Homing's throat.
So many scars on Rocinante's chest.
The only light now was from the jars; this was when she realised that their eyes were open. Wide, staring into her soul.
She covered her mouth and ran to a corner to upchuck her lunch. She rearranged herself, composure split but not gone. She felt awfully pale. They were alive.
Floating there, pinned down with tubes full of blood, forcing their hearts to beat. The little heart monitors telling her they were alive.
The way their eyes roved over her in confusion.
That was when she came to and ran to the back of the tubes, searching for any way to get them out. Conveniently enough, there was a manual instructing how to evacuate the chambers. Apparently, as told by the scrawled handwriting on the manual, they should stay alive. She pulled a stepladder out from behind her and climbed it. She pressed all the buttons instructed until there was a hiss of air and a burst of steam, and the fluid was draining out of Rocinante's tube through holes in the bottom. Once the fluid was gone, she walked to the back of the tube and twisted the small plastic handle in the glass, opening the nigh-on invisible door. She tore her bedroll into two, since it was made of two layered blankets, and gently laid the much, much taller man onto the sheet. She kept the blood tube and oxygen nose-tube in but removed the IVs and various sedative needles. The second tank was opened in the same way and Homing was laid on the flor on his own torn bedroll sheet. Their eyes followed her as she dug through the stacks of junk and found a rounded fish bowl. What she was about to do was risky and dangerous, but it would free them of the blood tubes.
"Right, let's do this," She pepped herself up and yanked one end of the blood tube out of Homing's arm. He winced. Rika stuck the end of the tube into the fishbowl, quickly running around to the other side and took the other end out. She put the first end back in his arm, but at his elbow instead of wrist. She covered the top of the bowl with the tarp, the blood from inside the remaining tubing end and bowl being sucked up from the vacuum being created by Homing's beating heart. There was just a sheen of plasma left in the bowl and so she removed the needle from his arm.
She wiped the bowl down with an antiseptic wipe she didn't remember putting in her bra, before repeating the process for Rocinante.
She tipped said man on his side and gently slapped his back, ensuring that all the fluid in his lungs was removed. He hacked it up, the once milky but clear fluid yellowed from drops of blood and bile. She left him in the recovery position in case he needed to upchuck anything else, leaving the nose tube in so he could adjust to the air easier.
Homing's process was harder- since his neck stitched on haphazardly, she had a harder time getting him to throw the fluid up. She cracked a glowstick from her bag. She gently unpicked the outer layer of stitches around his neck one at a time and threaded a thick, plastic-y wire she'd found in the junk (she'd wiped it with yet another bra-found antiseptic wipe- how it got there was also unknown.) through her curved, skin-stitching needle that she always carried after Garp gave it to her. She redid the stitches as neat and as delicately as possible, undoing an old one as soon as she'd stitched a new one and going around his jugular . He hardly even winced when he noticed she was trying her hardest to help. He was alright to upchuck after that.
She doubted either of them were able to take oral painkillers so she dug around in her bag until she reached her little medi-kit. There were four small blister-packs of Morphine-filled needles. She gave them one each, well aware of the appropriate dosage for the drug. When they went under, she worked on fixing them; She felt around Rocinante's chest and found the bullets inside his chest still. With the Med-kit's little scalpel, she dug them out, cauterising the torn lung with a old fork and a lighter, then stitched him up properly.
Homing had a little tiny bald patch at the base of his skull where the bullet had entered- the uppermost chunk of spinal cord had been dislodged- Internal Decapitation. He was more than likely paralysed. She sighed and made a thin incision vertically along the middle of his neck, completely away from any veins.
Sticking her (painfully ungloved) hand into the incision and folding the skin and muscle back, she (please note that this whole time Rika was majorly panicking- she'd never done an op like this in a theoretical situation let alone a real one, let alone worst case scenario. Also, only one scalpel? No Gloves? Using no real medical instruments to push the spinal cord back into place? Her Med Teacher would be having an aneurism. ) gently tapped the chunk of connected cartilage and bone into place. The cartilage was partially severed but would heal in it's own time. She sewed the little incision up with more plastic-y thread and rolled him back into place. She scrubbed them both down (only the places underwear didn't cover- it was all they had on and she didn't want to violate their privacy) with her drinking water and a soap sponge she'd made a while back. They smelt like Lemongrass and Tea tree.
She leant back against the wall and cracked a couple of glowsticks she'd had in her bag- she wasn't sure how much or what Coby and 'Meppo had packed for her, but she sure was glad they had. She'd have brought only her clothes and medkit, and that wouldn't help. She put a glowstick by their heads, so she could see when they woke, and one in her hand so she could read her book. She wasn't though- her nerves were hopped up and she couldn't think of why Donquixote- No, it was Doflamingo now, wasn't it- could even comprehend why keeping his previousy dead family alive was a good idea-
But then she realised.
He knew she was in training to be a doctor. He had seen her do open heart surgery- part of her admittance test into an apprenticeship- he thought she could heal them.
He'd killed his dad to give Rocinante a Noble upbringing, hadn't he? She killed Rocinante because he felt betrayed. Was this- Was Doflamingo feeling remorse? Joker? The guy illegally producing and distributing artificial, falsely functioning Devil Fruits, feeling remorse?
She'd seen it in his eyes, now that she thought about it- When he'd locked the basement door with little more than a bedroll and her bags. He must have thought that all she'd had was a medical station in there.
Wait, did he feel remorseful for making her do this? Rik- No, Static- didn't know what to think any more.
She couldn't be Rika any more, for Rika was the friend and fellow Marine of Coby and Helmeppo. Rika was the strong, brave girl ready to be promoted to Vice-Admiral, rank of Garp the Hero, by Donquixote Doflamingo. The one that killed Blackbeard by honour of a friend.
Static was the sibling of nine guys. She was their rock and they were hers. Slightly hard to handle and mouthy but lovable. The one that cried when the social workers ripped her from her brother and sent her to a boarding school where she lived, depressed. Static was the one who strived to be a doctor so she could save other people. Not have another little kid end up without parents.
Bleu was her mom's kid. The little girl who stomped on that guy's foot when she heard him badmouthing her dead mom. The girl who cooked like her mom taught her to and kicked ass like her mom taught her to. The one who turned her household Matriarchal.
Now, she could be none of these. She'd done a real surgery, not matter how bad the scenario; she'd assisted a killer, a destroyer- someone giving death traps for a quick coin. She had helped a man who killed his own family to keep a rep. She was a double-crosser, a traitor, a stain on humanity. She didn't want it to be like that any more.
She needed a new name.
And she knew the perfect moniker.
It wasn't that he felt different about himself but- He just knew he couldn't like girls anymore. It wasn't the girls' fault, oh no- it was the men causing the problem. Why did they have to be so eye-catchingly handsome here? Before, they'd been just like him; bland, apart of the crowd, all the same.
It was all Thatch's fault. Static had asked him to keep an eye out for said man, and one night Theo had taken his watch for him. That was when he's heard Ace and Marco discussing boyfriends for Thatch.
And he'd heard his own name.
He didn't know why, but every time Thatch was thunk of or even mentioned, a little part of his mind constructed a little more to the shrine of the man he'd constructed in his head.
But it came crashing down.
Thatch lightly punched Ace on the shoulder, "Shut up, you ass. I'm not gay."
"That's so gay, stooooop,"
"You look gay in that,"
"Showering together is gay, no thanks,"
"Pfft. Bet he's gay,"
All little comments made by Thatch. Theo didn't know how he thought he could ever love somebody so meaninglessly homophobic. So instead, he started looking for people he knew weren't- Marco for example. Older than him by like eight years, sure, but who cared? No one was counting, were they? He was hot, Theo was like 60% percent sure he was bi, and he'd heard the subtle pick up lines shot his way.
Time to go get himself a man, he guessed.
Ever since Nami had woken up on the Merry with only a vague recollection of the same White and blue fur lined coat she'd woken up with, nothing was the same. She felt... fuzzy. Fuzzy good though. Like somebody had shot liquid relax into her veins and she was hooked up onto an IV. She- well.
She thinks she's in love.
Every night, she fell asleep with the elusive white and blue coat in her arms, her eyes closed tightly and she dreamt of a faceless saviour for every scenario, his dark skin vibrant against he soft, light coat.
But then she'd stood up and yawned, looking in the mirror, when suddenly-
Luffy heard the scream echo from where he was in the kitchen. He'd used his rubber legs (Did you know that rubber is really tense when stretched? He did- it got tenser the more you pulled it. getting his arm to stretch when he first got his fruit had been a struggle. It wasn't any strain now though. His body was very bouncy because of this tension though) tucked into his chest to bounce straight down the stairs into the girl's cabin.
He couldn't find Nami at first- she was in the toilets. He used the knife trick Sabo had taught him (He did miss Sabo- but what's wasting a memory on mourning when you could make good of it?) to pop the hinges open and the door from the hinges instead of the locks.
Nami was knelt on the floor, staring in horror at her reflection. From her eyes leaked salty tears, and her skin on her arms and neck grew long, square and rectangle shaped crystals of a rainbow coloured metal.
Luffy didn't know what it was but he didn't know one thing- Nami had a Devil Fruit.
"Bismuth," Robin declared.
"Bismuth," Repeated the crew.
"Yes, Bismuth," Robin deadpanned at them, "a generally unreactive metal, used for medicinal purposes such as Pepto-Bismol. Quite strong. High melting point, and when heated right, can create rainbows and rectangular crystals along its surface. I believe Nami, while unconscious and missing on Drum Island, was force fed the Iro-Iro Fruit."
Nami was beginning to doubt that the guy who gave her the coat was such a saviour.
Homing was beginning to stir, and a minute after him, Rocinante.
"It's not the best situation," She told them when they woke, "But it's nice to meet you."
Homing was confused.
She was just a little girl, maybe a few years older than his son is. Was. He must be, what, forty, fifty? Time was different in the tube. But this girl- she saved him. Saved them. He held his little Roci's hand- his little kid, who was all grown up. A man.
He could have been stuck in there another eternity or minute; he would have gone crazy either way. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes let alone move, and she'd fixed him.
She'd fixed him.
She's saved the only son he counted on to fix things.
He could never trust Doflamingo, not after what he'd done to his brother; family. Family didn't hurt family.
He would entrust this girl's health to Roci.
She was family now.
So what do you guys think of the longest chapter to date? I'm actually really proud of the drama I've created. Also, yes. There are trans and gay and Bi and homophobic characters. It wouldn't be humanity if there wasn't.
The reason I made Thatch homophobic was one reason and one reason only; he's there to represent that slice of people in the pie chart of earth that are like that. I've turned them into a microcosm, I suppose- I want everyone to be recognised, be them trans through straight to. Nobody is left out. Just because you like girls when you are one isn't 'Sinful'. Just because you want to be a girl when you're a guy isn't 'attention seeking'. Just because you think it's wrong doesn't make it so.
One of my best friends is trans. I'll protect him with my soul and my life, and if anyone ever came at him with these insults, the things I would do would get me arrested.
Just because they're different doesn't mean they are less of a person or worse than you.
Also, I don't think I made it awfully obvious, but Good ol' Rika, now Natasha (I'm sure you guys can see what I'm doing with the names by now) had a personality Disorder. She wants to be a new person, so she makes herself one. She will sometime in the future confuse everyone when someone calls her one name, another calls her a different one and someone else will be like, "But I thought she was called" and it will be a clusterfuck of explaining disorders to them and why on earth she thought these names suit the personality. I don't know if this is a real condition, but I'd like to think that Natasha could be understood by someone who doesn't feel like themselves.
On a lighter note, at least, sorry this took so long! I had some major block. Also, I'd like to think that Doffy has some modicum of remorse in his annoyingly tall body. I actually can't have Roci or Homing die- they are two of my favorites (on par with Ace who is literally god can I just point out.) ABOUT 3000 WORDS MY GUYS!