Theo sat in the far corner of her bed against the wall, her forehead on her knees. It had been almost two weeks since everything had gone to hell, and she felt worse than ever. She had been torn from her new family, the one she had chosen and loved. She didn't believe Cap was dead, but everybody reminded her of the news article at every opportunity. Her refusal to cooperate left people wondering what to do with her. Nobody could force her to make or even design anything, and they couldn't hack into her artificial brain before she wiped all the data. She didn't care about the ongoing discussions regarding her ultimate fate. What was the point?

Still, she had been in worse situations. She got three full meals a day, a comfortable bed, and her own bathroom. Nobody misgendered her, even accidentally, and there weren't immediate plans to send her back to him. That was a small consolation.

Lyn had been right. Going through her archived memories of her nakama really was painful. It only reminded her that they weren't with her.

She didn't look up when the door slid open and closed with a pneumatic hiss or when the person who had entered sat on her bed near her and leaned against the wall. They had tried again and again to get her to open up. It never worked. Her head snapped up, however, when the person spoke. "I fucking hate copying people who don't smoke. I'm impressed, squirt. They still haven't gotten eyes and ears in here without you disabling them."

This was new. The child behavior specialist had always been gentle and soft, fake affection tainting every word that came from her lips. Theo had a lifetime of experience dealing with people like her, people who pretended to care, who said they wanted to help her, who handed her over to the authorities without a second thought. She had never expected this change of tack. They were starting to get desperate.

The specialist laughed and extended her hand. "Sorry, I had to. Jordan, Cici's Sister."

Theo opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, her eye wide with surprise.

"Oh, is this distracting? Here." Jordan waved her hand along her body, and her features shifted. Her shoulder-length blond hair became short, wavy, and dark. Her blue eyes turned brown. Her jaw widened slightly, and a small bump grew on her throat. Her shirt sank down as her breasts disappeared and her figure straightened out. "Better?"

She threw her arms around his neck as she sobbed in relief. She wasn't alone. Somebody cared for her, even if she had never seen them before. Jordan simply held her and let her cry for as long as she wanted. Theo eventually sat back, rubbing her eye and nose on her sleeve.

"Cici's alive," he said as if nothing had happened. "She has a message for you."

She snatched the flash drive, plugged it into her hand, and closed her eye. She started crying again as the video popped up, thankful that part of her wasn't too overwhelmed with emotion to process what Cap was saying.

"Hey, Theo. I'm so sorry all of this happened, but don't think for a second that I'm not going to get you all back. Everyone but you, me, and Raven is locked up somewhere, and it's going to take a while to get everything in order. It's going to take a long while. I need you to do something for me, okay? Cooperate with the World Government. You'll get more freedom if you do, and it'll make it easier to communicate with you. Despite everything I've said about her, Jordan is extremely responsible when it comes to doing her duties, and she has a lot of them. She's not a courier who can drop by whenever we want to communicate.

"Obviously, I'm not telling you to give the World Government details about NYMPHE, HEROINE, and KYKLOPS. Those belong to the Black Glove Pirates, and I forbid you from selling our secrets to the enemy." Cap even paused to let Theo giggle, a warm smile on her face. "But you know there's a gap between the current public battlesuit technology and yours. Show them designs spaced out over time while making sure that gap always exists. Give them muskets while you keep working on machine guns.

"Make them think you've turned your back on us. They think you can be manipulated because you're a kid. Give in and make them think they're right. They won't be looking any further if you continuously dazzle them with new toys your suits could destroy without even trying. Plus, if you say you'll only work if you're with them, you won't get sent back to that man.

"I have other video files for you, but don't watch them until Jordan leaves. She can empathize with you in ways I never could, so make the most of your time with her. I will come for you, Theo. I love you. We all do. Never forget that." She gave a cheeky grin. "I guess I don't have to tell you."

Theo felt completely drained as she opened her eye and looked hopefully up at Jordan. "I've never met any non-cis person who wasn't trying to trick me."

"Not sure if it's good luck or bad that I'm your first one!" he laughed. "What do you want to talk about?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Henner carefully approached the mastiff taller than he was, trying his absolute best not to startle it. His hand still twinged from the previous bite. The mastiff's growl grew louder as he approached, freezing him in his tracks. Of course, he had been assigned to something that seemed ready to feast upon him. Why couldn't he have gotten something smaller?

He nearly leapt out of his skin when something landed beside him, startling him so badly that he fell right on his rear. The mastiff immediately lunged forward, and he shielded his head with his arms. He breathed heavily, waiting for a bite that never came. "Oo's a good girl? I said, who's a good girl? You are! Yes you are! Such a good girl!"

Lowering his arm, he took stock of the sudden intruder in his pen. The woman remained upright despite the huge dog draping its front legs on her shoulders, laughing as it covered her face in slobber. He watched in disbelief as the mastiff got off of her and rolled onto its back, allowing her to bury her face in its stomach as she madly rubbed its fur. The clatter of footsteps came thankfully soon, and several guards filed into the area. "Halt!" shouted the leader.

She turned to face him, her ear still on the dog's stomach. "What? You only said I couldn't jump down to Level 3. This is Level 2."

"These animals need to be handled with care, Mojigata! You could hurt them if you improperly interact with them!" The other guards looked everywhere but at the mastiff kicking the air in happiness. "You can't just tend to whichever one you please!"

"Heard you loud and clear!" she exclaimed, having obviously not listened to a word he had said. "She's such a good girl! Such a gooood girrrrl!" The mastiff was on its feet the instant the lead guard took a step forward, its growl louder than before. Without a furry pillow, Mojigata's head hit the floor, and she leisurely stretched her arms and legs out. "I don't think she likes you."

"Kali is Henner's responsibility," the guard informed her. "He and he alone is in charge of its rehabilitation."

"Kaaaliii," Mojigata cooed as she rolled to her feet and rested her elbow on the dog's shoulder. "What a nice name! Kali!" She giggled as the dog barked. "Kali Kali Kali Kali. So good! I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Gaoler Gorman of Level 2."

She studied him for a moment, then straightened up. "Okay, you got me! Spiky Hell was just so boring, y'know? What is this place called again? Animal Rehab Hell?"

"Wild Beast Hell. You descended because you were bored?"

"Mmhmm! Even GOD was boring!"

They stared at her, searching for any trace of humor. "Are you talking about the Good Old Days or a deity?" Gorman asked tentatively.

"No, I mean that daily thing where we entertain you losers for hours by going through hazards in exchange for perks and privileges. I bet this level's GOD is better. It's pretty soon, right? They're staggered out so you can see them all each day if you want to? I can't wait!" Kali whined as Mojigata walked over to the guards and bit the back of her striped shirt in an attempt to make her stay. The shirt tore instead, and Henner gasped at the large Jolly Roger emblazoned on her back. The guards stiffened upon seeing the tattoo as well when she turned back to hug the dog. "It's okay, girl! I'll be back soon! Promise!"

"Who're you?" Henner managed.

She winked. "I'm Lyn, first mate of the Black Glove Pirates! Nice to meet you!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Louise sighed and draped her hands on her shovel. Having prisoners who knew nothing about terraforming try to convert dry sand into fertile land was a total joke. She wiped her cracked lips, counting down the seconds until she could return to her cell and get a nice drink of water. The bright light on the ceiling some distance from the hole to Wild Beast Hell was a poor facsimile of the sun. The guards didn't even try to pretend otherwise, unceremoniously turning it off at night without any warning. Not that that relieved them of the oppressive heat. The temperature was due to the hot air from the level below lifted by the huge fan in the ceiling, not the bright bulb that needed to be replaced every week or so.

She smiled as an enormous wall of stone thudded into the sand, shielding her from the arid wind. At least she had Aisha as a cellmate. Given her appearance, nobody had expected her to adapt to prison life almost immediately. She had more than a few tales that quickly ingratiated her with her fellow prisoners and was soon conversing with them as if she had been here for years. Some people had even taken to sitting on the ground with her when they ate since the guards were really hemming and hawing over getting a seat that could support her weight.

What really endeared herself to the others was her ludicrous strength. Rearranging heavy stone slabs and pillars the size of masts to create makeshift shelters had never been easier. She was often compared to prisoners that had long since gone, people who contributed so much that it almost seemed like their attempts at terraforming could succeed. Almost. Nobody believed it was anything but pointless labor disguised as scientific advancement.

The stone slabs scraped against each other as Aisha adjusted them and her striped headscarf. "Should be fine."

"Yeah. You cold showering today?"

Aisha dabbed at her forehead as they headed back to the cells in the center of Level 3. "No, I'm saving it for the day after tomorrow."

"What's the day after tomorrow?"

"When I feel up to doing GOD again."

Louise nodded approvingly. Newbies tended to spend their GOD points as soon as they could. Everyone else knew that while a long shower was soothing and a cold shower was invigorating, both of them paled in comparison to a long, cold shower. "Would be nice right now though."

The rest of the day passed like all the others. Once the guards determined they had worked enough, the pair of women trudged back to the entrance to the cells and waited for the guard to meticulously check their tools back in. After taking an unpleasantly warm shower, eating passable food, and socializing in a room that had surprisingly decent air conditioning, they returned to their cell.

Aisha prayed in the corner while Louise brushed her teeth and grumbled under her breath about floss like she always did. They only needed eye contact to agree that tonight was a quiet night. She put on her earphones and listened to her radio while Aisha cracked open the book she had been slowly getting through since she had arrived.

Louise froze when she heard a loud sniffle. She had read that book backwards and forwards, and no passage in there had made her feel particularly emotional. She poked her head over her bunk to see tears rolling down Aisha's face, her hand pressed against her mouth. "You okay?"

"Kabocha gratin," she whispered. "His favorite food is still kabocha gratin."

"What?"

Aisha looked up at her with pure determination in her eyes. "We're going to turn that desert into a garden, grow the most phallic vegetables possible, and give them to the warden so he can go fuck himself."

Louise burst out laughing. She had no idea what kabocha gratin had to do with anything, but she could wait until Aisha was up to sharing. Louise knew better than to pry into other people's business, especially when those people could literally flatten her. "I hear you, sister!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"How are you doing that?"

"Hm?" Alexander glanced to the side. "Oh, this? Let's just say I'm used to it."

Blazing Hell was aptly named for the great furnace near the center of Level 4 that provided heat for the entire prison. The air was muggy and humid, much worse than Dewpon, and just a few degrees shy of inflicting burns. Fainting was so common that it seemed like a never-ending ebb and flow of prisoners from the infirmary. The prisoners were tasked to keep the central furnace going, whether by stoking the fire or bringing all manner of fuel to feed it. A hundred smaller furnaces surrounded it, every one of them needing to be tended as well.

And then, of course, there was the Good Old Days activity. Prisoners dove into the pot of nearly scalding water to nurture edible crustaceans and molluscs that had apparently evolved to live in such temperatures. Those unable to do so, whether they were too weak or Devil Fruit Users, labored in the greenhouses. People only made the mistake of thinking the glass structures were more comfortable than the rest of the level once.

It was unclear how the greenhouses felt even hotter than the rest of Blazing Hell, especially since Alexander's glasses became practically opaque whenever he entered due to the humidity. The hardest plants to care for were the literally hot peppers. Their faint glow made it abundantly clear that interacting with them would be painful, and most people could barely hold onto them long enough to pick them.

The blue-green cuff on his wrist slid down a little as Alexander pulled another one off the vine and added it to his smoldering basket. He agreed the peppers were painfully hot, but nowhere near hot enough to stop him. The skeptical prisoner shoved him out of the way and reached up. "Of course, you'd find the coolest ones."

"These are pretty sweet," he said with a straight face as the prisoner yowled and pulled his hand back.

"You're not even wearing gloves!"

The ghost of a smile crept onto his face. "Yeah, it'd be nice to have at least one. You're not ending GOD with that, are you?"

The prisoner looked between their baskets before turning on his heel and storming away. Alexander ran his finger along one of the vines, trying to remember the lessons regarding the greenhouse plants. The plant looked like it was being affected by something, but he couldn't think of what. He shrugged and continued on.

A shrill whistle signaled the end of GOD. Alexander got in line with the other prisoners and waited for his performance to be evaluated. The officer beckoned him forward when it was his turn, her eyes flicking to the basket of literally hot peppers for the briefest of moments. "Pass."

Alexander bowed his head towards the guards and ambled toward his cell. He wondered how he was going to use his point this time. The day hadn't been particularly stressful, so there was no sense in spending it right away. He only staggered a little when an arm was thrown over his shoulders. "Ahoy, matey! How many points have ye now?"

"I'm still not telling you. Did you singe your mustache?"

Montbars Clover slapped him on the back. "Bwawawawa! Suit yourself! Think you can stockpile enough to buy yer freedom?"

"I'm not planning on being here long enough to get that many."

Laughing, Montbars ruffled his hair. "Fair, fair! You might actually see the sun again before your teeth fall out!"

"I do brush twice a day."

He walked with the chatty captain until they reached his cell, empty at the moment due to his cellmate recovering in the infirmary. Alexander picked up his guitar and gave it an experimental strum. Having to tune it every day was both relaxing and irritating, but it reminded him of who he really was. He hummed as he slowly twisted the tuning pegs, pondering what he was going to play.

Something in his guitar case caught his eye, a sticker that hadn't been there before. He scratched at it a few times to get it off and lifted it to his face, shaking his head in amusement. How totally unnecessary. As if he would stop believing in his captain because of simple imprisonment. He put the black hand in his mouth and swallowed it. Doing so revealed a scratch on his cuff he hoped nobody had seen. He wet his hand in the sink and patted water into the scratch, running his thumb over it to transmute it into metal.

Being underestimated was so useful.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Mi-young shivered as she tried to breathe warmth back into her hands. It was total bullshit. She botched one drug operation and she had to freeze to death because of it? Sure, the guards kept claiming nobody died in Impel Down anymore, but that only meant they were covering everything up. She was also sure they had specifically said nobody died. Who knew how many people were maimed or mutilated every day.

She held stock still as a watchdog padded up behind her. Another one of their sick jokes. Barely domesticated wolves did not become watchdogs simply by being called that. It stared balefully at her, lips curled back like a wave, until something caught its attention. It turned to the side before disappearing into the dense fog. A much larger figure took shape in the whiteness, and the familiar scrape of an enormous block of ice against the ground grated in a way that made her fillings vibrate. "I thought we were done for the day," she said.

Like everyone else in Freezing Hell, Cain was clad entirely in white clothing. Mi-young suspected this was so the guards could claim not to have seen prisoners dying of hypothermia in the snow and fog. His breath misted in the air as he kept moving. "We are."

"What, again?" she asked, walking alongside him. "Are you a masochist? Is that it?"

"If I am able to endure GOD, why should I not work to ease the difficulties of living here?"

"Getting frostbite will make living here a lot more difficult."

"Part of my training was learning my limits when it came to hypothermia and frostbite."

Mi-young rolled her eyes. "Do you think anyone believes you're just a soldier or bodyguard or carpenter or whatever background you want to invent next? How did you get sent to Impel Down then?"

"A series of misfortunes. I once knew a woman who never believed anything she heard was true."

"Oh yeah? What happened to her?"

"She learned that some truths were better left undiscovered."

She shook her finger at him, quickly retracting it into her fist to keep it warm. "She had the right idea though! They're always lying to you to keep you complaisant."

Cain suddenly laughed, startling the life out of her. Going by the past few weeks, she had thought he was incapable of laughing. "I don't think I've ever been called complaisant before. Dutiful and loyal, yes. Complaisant? Never."

"So you always did what you were told and never fought back. How is that not being complaisant?"

"Fulfilling one's responsibilities is not the same thing as being complaisant. Besides, complaisant people tend not to wind up in ultramax prisons."

She couldn't argue with that. He had always refused to answer the question, but she still had to ask. "So why are you here anyway?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Morgan didn't move when someone banged on the door of his insulated cell. "Get up, convict. You have a visitor."

That made him raise his arms from his eyes, as if that would help. Aside from the occasional blinding flash and ear-piercing noise, Eternal Hell was completely devoid of light and sound. Spending the day in the dimly-lit central area was a privilege, one he had erroneously assumed would be unnecessary. Anything was better than the thick, oppressive darkness.

Still, a visitor was unheard of. Visitors were for ordinary prisons, not ones located in the middle of the Calm Belt. Nobody came to Impel Down. Nobody knew where it was and especially not how to get there. He went to his door and let his seastone cuffs be shackled together. It didn't matter if it was simply a prank orchestrated by the prison guards. At least he would be doing something.

He didn't fight as they put a blindfold over his eyes, headphones filled with white noise over his ears, and pushed him into what felt like a vibrating coffin. He wondered if Captain or Damien could have determined their path through the prison, because he certainly couldn't. It was almost impossible to feel when he was moving and when he was stopped, which direction he turned and how far he went. He couldn't even tell when he was going upwards.

Some lengthy period of time passed before he was released into a nearly featureless white room. He squinted in the light and nearly tripped over the chair fused with the ground. The table was also merely an extension of the floor, both pieces of furniture possessing corners too smooth to easily inflict self-harm. He was shoved into the chair and roughly grabbed by his seastone collar. They pulled his head down until it was mere centimeters from the table and connected his collar to the hook in front of him. "Obey," someone said through a voice modulator. "Do not act without permission."

He could barely make out the wall before him sinking into the ground, revealing a thick pane of glass. He waited tensely until a voice that sounded clearly used to getting its way rang out. "Let him see."

The chain released so suddenly that his head snapped back. He rubbed the side of his neck as he stared forward. The room opposite his was equally devoid of color with one crucial difference. The table and chair were proper pieces of furniture, but they had been moved against the wall. An ornate throne dominated the center of the room, covered in intricate decorations and breathtaking needlework. Three people knelt on either side of it, having presumably carried it in. The woman sitting on the throne seemed to be wearing an entire gold mine. Every ornamentation and piece of jewelry gleamed in the light, but she had somehow managed not to over-accessorize herself. All the gold looked completely natural on her.

Not a single pang of envy ran through him. He was focused on the ornate bubble encasing her head. He had thought that World Nobles wore pressure suits to completely block all contact with outside air, but her golden dress hung beautifully on skin so brown it was almost black. It was all but impossible to look away from her eyes, her golden irides so intense they seemed to glow. They bored into his soul, laying him bare and showing nothing but disdain.

"Turn them off," she said, waving one hand at the cameras.

"Are you s-" one guard managed before his compatriots frantically covered his mouth with their hands.

The woman slowly rotated her head towards them, and the knees of the guard who had spoken gave way when her eyebrows twitched downward. "Everyone out."

While the servants mechanically rose and exited, the guards tripped over themselves in their haste to leave the room, hauling their fallen comrade along with them. The woman held Morgan's gaze for a while, and he refused to look away. The longer he stared, the brighter her eyes seemed to be. Just as he was about to flinch, she gave a throaty laugh and leaned on one armrest. "Can't blame us for having a little fun, can you?"

"I will consider that your punishment for my involvement of Captain's failed assassination."

"You keep thinking that. You're pretty lucky, you know. Loves let you off with Grade A seastone. We would have been more… creative."

Morgan smiled when he understood what she had said. "Well, I'm not going anywhere if you want to have your shot."

Jennifer's golden lips drew back to reveal her perfect teeth. "We knew we'd like you. Krees said you've changed a lot since you joined, and if she noticed it, it had to have been a big change. We're called Lady Ora at the moment. That's the name we used to visit your father on Winter Isle, which is also why we can visit you at least once without people thinking twice."

"So why are you here?"

"First, Libs is alive. You probably already guessed that, but we're confirming it. Second, she's going to get you all out, but it'll take some time. She wants to spring you without anyone realizing it until you're long gone. That plan could take months, if not years to formulate. She didn't want you to go stir crazy and make everything harder. She said it was a good thing we had history with Winter Isle, because you're the only one who might assume she abandoned you and she needed to communicate that not being the case. Us coming personally was so much easier than trying to sneak you a convincing message."

Morgan mulled this over. "Thank you. She's right, as usual, especially since I will be pardoned and released in five years. I will try not to lose my faith in her."

"Good." He was totally unprepared for her pressing her hands together and pulling them apart to reveal an enormous spear. "Do us a favor and look like you barely escaped with your life."

"How could you possibly need to bolster your image any further?"

"We don't." She slammed the butt of her spear against the ground three times, and it faded from existence as it rolled from her fingers before the guards piled back in. "But it would be amusing."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Flavio looked up when his superior entered the monitoring room and hastily hid his notepad. "How is she?" Goswami asked, peering through the soundproof window. The mermaid simply floated in her tank, wearing nothing so the sensors and electrodes on her body could be easily adjusted.

"Well, we finally got her to stop screaming whenever she's conscious. We let people back in yesterday."

"Did you damage her vocal chords?"

The technician wished he could express how insulted he was. "No, sir. We have her at… let's pretend 60% consciousness is a phrase that means something. She's out of it, but still partially present."

"Well, keep at it. Let me know if anything changes."

Flavio rolled his eyes when he was sure the door was closed. Keep at it? No, he was going to give up, slit the throat of a research subject worth more money than he would ever see in his life, and wait in his living room until somebody else found out. Supervisors really did forget everything the instant they got promoted. They didn't remember how annoying it was having an unhelpful mouth-breather by your ear while you were trying to get some damn work done.

He slid the papers off his notepad to reveal the sketch he was making since no photographs or digital images could be taken off the premises. Time to get some damn work done on his art.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"It's very simple," the rando belched, the friendly arm across Minnow's shoulder locking her in place. "You're either with us or against us. Easy. You get one day to decide. Come sun up, you're on the third side, call 'em strays. Both sides will still let you join if you're a stray, but we're also free to fuck you up. Two enemies versus one enemy and one friend. You look smart. You get it."

"Are there any strays right now?"

His beady eyes practically disappeared into the folds of his skin as he scrunched up his face. "Sorta. There's this one guy. We call him Chew Toy 'cos he looks like every animal from an ant to a Sea King took a bite of him. He's technically a stray, but nobody's sure what to do about him since he can barely move, much less talk. A lotta people including me say we take him for parts, but a lotta people want to wait for him to wake up. He's got scars on scars on scars, right, and you don't get all that without being tough enough to survive some serious shit."

"So the lotta people not including you are winning? You know, since he's still alive and all."

He peered at her, then giggled. "I suppose so! We'll see. People are only so patient up here. He don't got a lotta time left."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Raven made absolutely sure Helen Negras was gone before entering the room. She knew she was not the only Skri affected by her allure, which was a positive emotion. If she were not, that would mean emotions truly were weakening her. She crouched on the ceiling and waited for Cassandra to finish her conversation. Her eldest Sister only stopped working or training when she was forcibly dragged away, and even then had to be closely monitored to make sure she was actually eating, socializing, and sleeping.

"Your messages have been delivered," she said as Cassandra hung up. "All of Pythia's hive have returned safely, and our nakama incarcerated in Impel Down as well as Theodora and Aisha know of your survival and desire to rescue them. There is still no information regarding the whereabouts of Miserie or Damien."

"I might have something," Cassandra said, gesturing at a piece of paper pinned to the wall with a knife. "An application for a scientific research project on weaponizing certain qualities of sound despite the limits of digital recording. It's a total long shot, but I'll take anything at this point."

"The Moon Sisters have worked out how to have one of us here whenever possible. Helen will also be participating in your supervision, although it is difficult for us to provide support when she is present."

Cassandra ran her hand through her hair and looked up at Raven. "I can't stop you, and by the gods have I tried. I'm all set now. Ready to kick it into high gear?"

Raven nodded.

"Good. The gloves are on. Let's do this."