Part 2: Initialization

Cross-Brain AN: If we have not said this clearly before, let us do so now: Soundbite can hear the entire Internet EXCEPT for what happens in the plot of One Piece, courtesy of B.R.O.B.'s censoring. When he Awakened, he gained access to the soundtracks, nothing more.

We have toyed with the idea of him gaining other supplemental information like the gender-swapped and young pictures from Oda's SBS, but we have no plans of allowing him access to any more of the manga or anime. If it does happen, it will be as Cross's last boon from B.R.O.B. when his knowledge runs out, and even that is unlikely.

Sabaody Archipelago was, as has been demonstrated, a crossroads through which sapient beings of every origin and level of strength passed through. While the civilians on the island had the good sense to leave any big names that came through to their business, they weren't about to uproot their daily lives to do so. Infamous pirate with a multi-million beri bounty in the corner booth? They'd take their usual fish and miso soup a couple of seats down and not think any more of it.

It was an open question whether it was this attitude or the familiar and mostly welcome face on the smallest bounty holder that gained the four crews sitting together the locals' uncaring nonchalance.

…of course, it could have also had something to do with the smothering killing intent the pirates were putting out over their drinks.

"Eight. Billion. Beris." Foxy ground out, glaring bloody murder into the center of the table. "Gone. In a burst."

"Those fucks played us like a damn fiddle! 'Anyone's race' my mohawk'd ass!" Barto spat.

Law shifted out of his brooding long enough to cock an eyebrow at his recently acquired compatriot. "Even you, Barto-ya? Shouldn't you be lavishing them with praise over their brilliant plan?"

"Fuck praise, I had 500 Million in that pot!"

Law blinked at him in surprise. "That's… surprisingly sane for—"

"Now how the hell am I going to buy my fifty-foot tall bronze statue of Luffy, damn it!"

"…so what about you, big-mouth?" Law smoothly transitioned, entirely ignoring Barto's outburst.

Apoo merely raised an eyebrow. "I'm a long-arm, Surgeon. Do the math."

"And yet you're still pissed… why?"

Apoo scoffed as he knocked back his frothing mug. "I might appreciate the beauty of a con, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with them taking my money!"

"Uuuuugh, money, money, money! Is that really all you can bitch about?"

The fact that 'Weather Witch' Nami was able to unironically say those words to anyone as she, Zoro and Billy marched up to the table begged—nay, demanded—one response:

"YOU'RE THE LAST PERSON WE WANT TO HEAR THAT FROM!" all four captains roared.

"Told you they'd take it badly," Zoro blandly stated, digging a finger into his ear.

"And I'm telling you, I don't get what they're getting so worked up about," Nami dismissively replied.

"We're 'worked up' because you're the Straw Hats' rabid gold-sniffing bitch who'd put her firstborn up for collateral if it meant getting better prices," Law grumbled, his statement backed up by the gruff nods of his colleagues.

"'Prices?' What are those?" Nami questioned, deliberately tapping her finger on her chin before grinning cattily. "Ohhhhh, you mean those little numbers attached to things? Yeah, these days I just point at them and say 'send me the bill' and it all sorts itself out. What, that doesn't happen to you?"

If looks could kill, there would've been a new canal through the Red Line and no sign the Weather Witch had even existed.

"Just… get to the damn point," Barto got out through grit teeth.

"Well, if you insist," Nami simpered. Reaching into Billy's saddlebags, she took a sheet of paper out and handed it over to Apoo.

"I dropped by your ship before I came here. They've started mass-producing this map for our purposes. I've still got the original, but just in case, keep this one on hand."

"Awfully presumptuous, thinking we're still going to help you after you just conned us," Apoo said dryly, though he still took the paper.

Nami met his deadpan stare with her own.

"If we gave you back your entry fee with 10% interest, it would still be chump change compared to the kind of payday that we're about to rake in," she blandly told him. "We didn't bother warning you about our trump card because we thought you four would be smart enough to figure that out yourselves."

Two heads slumped over with black clouds of depression hanging over them; Barto, if anything, looked even more thunderous.

"I am going to kill them when I get back to the Cannibal," he snarled. Nobody needed to ask who he was referring to, and several prayers were sent skyward for… basically anyone on his crew with two brain cells to rub together. A list which, frankly, did not encompass much of the Barto Club's roster.

"I can still be angry about you tricking me, you know," Law responded, though his deadpan tone and expression contradicted the words.

"So be angry. As long as you follow the plan, we don't care," Zoro replied just as flatly.

Law sat back with a dismissive shrug, just in time for Foxy and Apoo to recover.

"Y'know what?" Apoo decided, stashing the map in his clothes and grinning at Nami. "The thought of that motherlode is making me feel better. So, what are we waiting for? I'm eager for my payday with a side of 'the Government will never live this down!'"

That killed the Straw Hats' collective good mood; Nami visibly grimaced.

"We're… waiting for Hawkins to get here…" She glanced aside. "And for Cross to be less likely to kill someone."

All four Damned grimaced.

"Why am I even remotely surprised," Foxy sighed. "With that snail listening to everything, it was pretty much inevitable that something would set him off."

"Could even be a good thing," Law muttered as he stretched out his neck. "Jeremi-ya seems to lose his scruples whenever he loses his temper. Not exactly counterproductive for burning down an island."

"It is when we're launching a three-pronged attack from every side of the law to make sure that this sticks," Nami snapped at him, drawing a slight wince and conceding nod from the superior Supernova. "Anyway… Goat, this meeting is for Supernova crews only. So, you're going to be doing something else."

The tone Nami used made Foxy more eager than resentful.

"All ears, Callie," he replied.

Nami pointed to one specific spot on the map. Namely, the one that had a large X on it.

"Gather your entire crew and stake out Grove 77," Nami ordered. "We've hit a little snag trying to arrange things, so we need a first line of defense until we've got that solved. Pull out every trick you've got and make sure that nobody not on our side gets in or out of this grove until the kinks are worked out. You'll have Lassoo and Funkfreed for backup, they should already be there waiting for you. If you can do it perfectly…I'll waive your tribute money for the next year."

One second Foxy was frozen stiff, then the next everyone blinked and all that was left of him was a small puff of dust that quickly collapsed. Law pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I am a levelheaded and sane person," he groused to himself. "I enjoy being a levelheaded and sane person. But if insanity is the price for being able to break the laws of reality like this…I am conflicted." He cracked an eye open and looked skyward. "Where the hell are you, Cross? I need at least a little sanity back in action."

-o-

I stared blankly at the nearest wall, trying to get my jumbled thoughts in order. I was well aware that I couldn't save everyone. That hadn't been my goal when I came to this world. It hadn't been my goal when I joined the Straw Hats. It hadn't been my goal when I started the SBS. And it wasn't my goal now. The only ones that I had been determined to save at all costs were Merry and Ace, and I had already done both.

But the sightless eyes of that corpse, the bloody bullet wounds… it wasn't a named character, wasn't anyone of any significance. I would never know their name, and there was no grand event to play it up like the soldier who protested Onigumo's tactics in Enies Lobby. The person Roswald killed… was nobody.

That was why it had bothered me so much at the time, and it was still bothering me a bit now. But only a bit. It wasn't the main thing bothering me right this moment.

"YO, WHAT'S GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD NOW?" Soundbite asked, looking me over.

I blinked and glanced at my shoulder in surprise. "How'd you know I wasn't still stuck on—?" I clamped my teeth down on my cheek at the sudden spike in my temper at the thought. "—on that?"

"Because I'm not an idiot?" the gastropod deadpanned before lightening up a bit. "You went from brooding with a gooey cream filling of head-tearing rage to CONTEMPLATIVE SILENCE, SO I KNOW THAT YOUR TRAIN OF THOUGHT MADE A TRANSFER. Sooo… what's up?"

I let out a grunt of acknowledgement and turned away, back to nothing in particular. "Well, without any sugarcoating bullshit… I'm considering the exact message that I want to send during what we're about to do, and if I have any right to send it."

"Aaaaren't you the one who's been blaring THAT FIGHTING SLAVERY IS EVERY PERSON'S DUTY AS A DECENT PERSON TO THE HIGH HEAVENS?"

"Not about that," I snorted dismissively. "I mean the exact motivation, I… basically, I want to take a bit of a cue from a similar revolution that went down. You know," I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder. "Back home?"

Soundbite's eyes immediately lit up with an almost rabid eagerness. "OOOH! I GET IT! WANNA KICK UP WHAT STARTED IN BOSTON and then moved all the way to Yorktown? I CAN DIG IT! Let's turn the world upside down! Long live the red, white and blue! ALREADY GOT THE TUNES FOR IT TOO! AND A ONE, A TWO—!"

It was right around when that flute rendition of 'Yankee Doodle' started that I decided enough was enough—

SMACK!

—and chopped him over the shell to shut him up.

"Knock it off, you Dixie-whistling dingus," I chided him, equal parts amused and irritated. "That's not what I was talking about… or, well, not entirely, anyway. You're definitely on the right track. I'm thinking of basing this off the red, white, and blue, yeah… just not that one."

"HUH?" Soundbite blinked at me before shaking his head to stare some more. "I'M SORRY, WHAT?"

I chuckled slightly as I dug through one of my coat's pockets. "Here, maybe this will clear things up a bit." I drew out a patch of fabric and held it in front of Soundbite. "I had Pappug whip this up back on Skelter Bite, before I knew about the clothes. This answer your question?"

My partner took one look at the patch and boggled in shock. The appropriate reaction, really.

Because yes, the flag patch I was holding up was decorated in the red, white, and blue. Except arranged not in the stars and stripes, but rather three equal bars.

"THE…THE FRENCH TRICOLOR!?" the snail queried, confused. "I mean, yeah, there was a REVOLUTION THERE, TOO, BUT NOT QUITE WHAT YOU'D TYPICALLY…Cross, how the heck did you get here?"

"Well…" I answered after a moment. "Remember all the times I've spoken French?"

I did not like the way he suddenly perked up. "OOOOH, YEAH! Water 7 really sticks out in my mind! Wanna do a repeat, refresh my memo—?"

"Finish that sentence and I feed you a salt shaker," I deadpanned, prompting him to recoil into his shell. "Anyway… long unnecessary life story short, I'm a bit of a half-and-half. One American, one French, and I spent a few years growing up in France. So I speak the language and know some of the history."

"NO KIDDIN', YOU MEAN YOU'RE HALF CHEESE-EATING SURRENDER MONKEY!?" Soundbite gasped in an over-exaggerated manner. "I've never mentioned this before, but I've always thought you smelled a bit—!"

"I already threatened you with salt, want to see how I can escalate with 'frog?'" I retorted in an almost bored tone.

"…well, I was going to say the lavender fields of Marseille, BUT HEY, IF YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE THAT LEAP," Soundbite whistled in a way that could only have convinced a Tontatta. "BUT ANYWAY, THE FRENCH REVOLUTION… DIDN'T THAT GET REALLY MESSY?"

I nodded in acknowledgement. "In the later days, yes. Hence part of my hesitation."

"THEN WHY NOT 'YANKEE DOODLE' this mother instead?"

"Well, two reasons," I shrugged, raising a finger. "First, because that revolution was external, and about getting freedom from an oppressor. We try to buck the WG entirely from this place without the backing of the Revolutionaries, they'd burn it to the ground. This one, however, was internal. Lots of upheaval and change, yes, but so long as it's targeted it's more on point."

"Alright, I can see that…" Soundbite nodded. "And the second?"

"Well…" I rubbed the back of my neck. "The American Revolution was primarily nationalistic, and I can appreciate that, God knows I've sung the anthem plenty of times. But the French one… you have the web in your head, you know the chant just as well as I do. That? That was, and is, a personal cause, not about your flag but your fellow man. And, well, I've been in Paris on Bastille Day, it matches the Fourth of July in intensity, I know it's no joke. The stars and stripes stand for America, but these…" I tapped the stripes in my hand. "These stand for the human spirit itself. And that, well…"

I chuckled nervously and shook my head. "Maybe I'm just feeling homesick after almost a year off Earth or something, but… but… I want to bring the stripes here. I want to use them for what they stood for, all those years ago. Make sense?"

Before Soundbite could respond, I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. "As for why I'm hesitating… well, as you mentioned, this all went real sideways real fast in the original take, and we can't really afford for that to happen here. But, beyond that… I mean, I've never really considered France to be a major part of my identity, you know? I know how to speak their language, I've lived there for a while, but… I've always described myself as an American first, if not exclusively. Do I… really have the right to use their flag and ideals for my war?"

For a moment, Soundbite was silent, and then he smiled. An honest one, for once in his slimy life. "I THINK THAT FOR A GUY WHO'S PROVEN HIMSELF TO BLEED RED, WHITE, AND BLUE AS MUCH AS THE NEXT TEXAN… yours can go either way just fine. You lived the life, talk the talk, and know the history. SAY WHAT YOU WILL, but it really is your culture. So whether or not you use it is up to you. BUT PERSONALLY, USING IT FOR A CAUSE LIKE THIS? Any sane person would be proud. I mean… I know I am."

The uncharacteristic support that my partner was showing me left me kind of unnerved, but not enough that I couldn't return his smile. Though was it hoping too much that he wouldn't spoil the moment?

"…if anyone asks, I told a fart joke there and NOBODY ELSE will ever know otherwise, got it?"

…maybe, maybe not. But hey, wouldn't be Soundbite any other way, would it?

"Ah, Cross?"

We both looked up to see Conis in the doorway, greasy paper bag in hand. "Sandwich?" she offered. "I got them at this stand called the Crazy Chicken, they're really good! All the Supernovas think so, too. Though, ah," she scratched the back of her neck warily. "I don't think they'll last or buy you more than a few minutes, and if I go in to restock the room they'll figure out why they're all here, sooo…?"

I pegged onto the implications and hastily stood. "So they're all here, then?"

"Yep!" Su barked, clambering up onto her partner's shoulder. "Hawkins just walked in and started intimidating everyone! I'd say you've got a clean minute before Kid throws the first punch on principle… or at least until Killer stops being able to stop him."

I nodded before giving Soundbite my best smirk. "You ready to do this thing?"

"What, you mean watch you SOMEHOW wrangle a pack of this hemisphere's TOP TEN MOST WANTED INTO DOING WHAT YOU SAY WHILE THEY ALL WANT YOUR HEAD?" the snail shot back. "Hells yeah, man!"

"Don't worry, don't worry," I said, waving my hand. "I'll get to the point faster than their patience runs out."

I pointedly ignored the way that Conis hummed uncertainly behind me. "Su… I'm sorry if I'm being pessimistic here, but… this is going to go bad in less than a minute, isn't it?"

And I really had a hard time ignoring the way Su scoffed with amusement. "Conis, please!…they're gonna shoot the minute they see his face."

And the worst part of all was that I couldn't quiiiite find a way to turn around and deny her.

But we'd conquered impossible odds before. And with so much on the line, I was going to pull out every stop to make sure that this time was no different.

-o-

Gathering the Supernovas together hadn't been all that hard with the number of News Coos Apoo had on his ship; a few albatross deliveries to the seven crews outside of the know and everyone was gathering in a room set up much like a conference room without a clue as to why.

…Well. The idea was that they had no clue why, but from the muttering filling the room they were all perfectly aware of who had summoned them. That they had complied anyway came down to either respect and/or interest in the Straw Hat Pirates or, and more likely, an interest in severing Jeremiah Cross's head from his shoulders and using it as a kickball.

Either or, they were all in the same place at the same time, and that was what was important. Well, that and the fact that a fight hadn't broken out yet.

"ALRIGHT!" Eustass 'Captain' Kid roared as he kicked in the door to the room he and everyone else had been led to. "LET'S HURRY UP AND GET THIS SHITFEST OVER WITH! I GOT MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO THAN SUCKING YOUR—!"

"Move it, jagoff!"

THWACK!

"GAH!"

"You're blocking the door," Bonney groused, taking care to step hard on Kid's sprawled, prone form as the rest of the Supernovas filed in. Killer, kneeling down next to his captain, visibly fought the urge to stab a bitch with every step. At least everyone else kept their hands to themselves.

"Alright, we're all here," Drake announced impatiently, giving voice to the general tension in the room. "Can we move this along already? I have an appointment with a ship-coater and—!"

SLAM!

"MOTHER!" "Sonnuva—!" "Credit where it's due, these guys can do drama damn well."

These were the general reactions to the door slamming shut behind the Supernovas, plunging them into darkness. A darkness that was filled with grumbling and cursing until four spotlights illuminated four chairs with their backs turned to the pirates at the opposite end of the room's table.

"Number 2 on my List Of Things I Want To Say At Least Once In The Right Context™," that voice announced in a flat voice. An announcement that was further punctuated by three of the four seats swinging around to reveal 'Straw Hat' Luffy, 'Pirate Hunter' Zoro, and 'Weather Witch' Nami regarding the other Supernovas with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"Oh, bugger me sideways," was the general simultaneous sentiment of the other pirates.

It was then that the fourth and final chair at the end of the table swung around to reveal Jeremiah 'Voice of Anarchy' and 'that two-timing son of a bitch' Cross—and his little snail Soundbite—for once not smirking in favor of an easygoing, almost playful smile. "I suppose you're all wondering why I've gathered you here."

BLAM!

Cross gave Bege a flat look as an equally flat bullet slid off of the sword Zoro had put in its path before it could come close to hitting its target. "Did you really think that would work?" he asked—not demanded—in a tone that was more annoyed than anything.

"No, but it made me feel a lot better," the mafia pirate stated, stowing his smoking pistol. "Them on the other hand..."

C-C-CLICK!

Credit to the Straw Hats, none of them even flinched at all the firearms pointed at them.

"Just so we're clear?" Bonney grit out, tapping her finger on the grip of the shotgun she was toting. "This isn't us declaring war on you, Straw Hats. This is mostly just stress relief."

"Speak for yourself, I want their heads!" Kid snarled, splintering the wooden grip of his own pistol in his palm. "We went along with these jagoffs and they stabbed us in the back!"

"Actually," Drake, one of the few who showed no overt hostility, interjected as he patiently pushed Killer's gun aside. "They didn't quite do that."

"The hell are you—?"

"Kid, if we'd stabbed you in the back, you wouldn't be breathing to complain about it," Cross cut in, giving the second-best Supernova a thoroughly unimpressed stare. "We didn't draw blood and we didn't take lives. At best we scammed you suckers out of your money, at worst we screwed you over, but at no point did we leave you high and dry. Right now, all any of you are doing is bitching about how we managed to pull one over on you, all while conveniently ignoring one eentsy little fact: that each and every one of you would have done exactly the same thing if you could. Go on." Cross spread his arms wide, his grin gaining a bit of an edge. "Tell me, to my face, that I'm wrong."

There was suddenly a lot of pointed looking away and silent scowling going on. Cross's trademark smirk came onto his face.

"That's what I thought. So why don't you all get over yourselves, grab a seat, and let me blow your minds, hm?"

There was another moment of uncomfortable tension as the Captains (plus one) regarded one another, daring someone to make the first move. Unfortunately, it was once again Kid, only this time he seemingly de-escalated by forcefully shoving his pistol back into his coat.

"Fuck. This," he snarled, enough venom to kill a Sea King packed into the two words. "I don't need to sit here and listen to you talk to me like I'm some sort of idiot. You wanna jerk off your ego, do it to someone who gives a damn. But before I go, I'm going to give you a piece of my mind, you son of a—!"

Cross cut off the nascent tirade with a weary (and Soundbite-amplified) sigh. "Oh for the love of—If you're really going to be that pissy about it, here."

THUNK!

Where Cross's interjection had paused Kid, the sight of a massive sack literally bulging with both cash and gold slamming down on the table, in full view of everyone, held by Nami of all pirates, was shocking enough that all anger fled from his face.

"You put down ฿500 million for the race, here's 600 million," Cross announced with a roll of his eyes not at all becoming of the massive amount of money on display. "A net profit of twenty percent. Go on, take it. Stay or leave, it's yours either way. And this goes for all of you: if you're such sore losers, then so be it: we'll have your entry fees delivered back to your ships, plus interest. You can walk away, right here, right now, and it'll be like nothing ever happened. Or."

Cross slowly leaned forward, giving the Supernovas an absolutely chilling stare. "You can take the other route for an even bigger payout. And all you have to do is agree to parley, take a seat, and let me do what I do best."

It did not escape anybody that Nami hadn't raised the slightest objection to Cross's promise to give away over half of the pot that they had just won as a peace offering. Still, if only for pride, most of them hesitated; only Bartolomeo and Apoo took their seats immediately.

But finally, with a snarl of exasperation more befitting some sort of rabid animal, Kid sat down, every inch of his frame screaming discontent. Nobody could get a read on Killer's face, but it seemed like he dearly wanted to issue some kind of threat, even as he followed suit. The remaining Supernovas seemed similarly conflicted, but one by one, they took their seats. The last one to sit down was Drake, who was eyeing the Straw Hats suspiciously.

"If this turns out in the end to be another plot like you wove on Skelter Bite, you'll regret it, Jeremiah Cross."

Cross leaned back in his seat and ever-so-casually folded his hands behind his head. "Two things. First, though I may want to, I can't claim responsibility for that plan. It was a group effort in planning, execution, and benefit. My crew may have taken the pot, but the point was to make it to Sabaody, and all of us are here now. And second, tying into that… if you're insinuating that the reason I gathered you here was to initiate another mutually beneficial plan that will give all of us something we want, but the Straw Hats get the lion's share?"

Cross uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "Well, of course it is. After all, if you can't find the collective initiative to snake some of the haul for yourselves, then that's hardly our fault." The tactician tilted his head to the side with an innocent stare. "Is that a problem?"

Glances were exchanged, and the silence was as good of an answer as anything else. Cross took that as his cue to smirk even wider.

"Well, then, now that you're all willing to speak like semi-civilized people…" Cross withdrew a Tone Dial from his jacket and clicked it on. "Let's begin."

-o-

"So, this is the… fifth time, you said?" Komei asked, a smirk playing on his lips as a freshly played Tone Dial wafted up and down from his hand.

THWACK!

Lowering her cane, Tsuru groused, "Don't you get smug with me, you weasel. Because trust me, you get smug every time and I'm starting to get sick of it."

"Then maybe get some better security protocols so we don't have to go through this again, hm?" the younger Vice Admiral retorted, rubbing the growing goose egg he was developing.

Tsuru allowed herself a thoroughly nasty smirk as she sat in front of her desk, leaning over to withdraw a form from one of the drawers. A form she slapped in front of the junior officer with a satisfying thump. "That's where you come in. Every step of your investigation and every leak you exploited. In triplicate. Before you leave this office. And yes," she added when Komei glanced down at his wrist. "This is where you've been getting your Carpal Tunnel from. Not so fun to be the smartest man around anymore, is it now?"

All Komei could properly muster up was a mutinous grumble as he took up the pen, set it to paper—

"Don don don don!"

"HA!" And let out a bark of elation as he caught the staff on his forearm mid-swing. "That snot-nosed rookie really is a good luck charm!"

"You can write and watch," Tsuru growled.

"What, you don't want my full attention on analyzing everything he shows us?" Komei smoothly countered.

The elderly Vice Admiral paused. Then, very slowly, she lowered her staff.

"…when you're asking me why I'm making you personally clean out the latrines like a rookie, and you can't remember why, I will simply tell you that you deserve it and I will be right."

Komei scoffed and leaned back in his seat with a cocksure grin. "That sounds like Future Me's problem. He'll have to deal with that himself. Right now, I can't be bothered."

Tsuru's eyes narrowed. One swipe of her staff at the chair later, and she was locking eyes with Komei. "You had better hope that this is one of the brat's longer broadcasts," she uttered before moving to answer the visual snail in the corner, which shortly began to project.

The image coalesced into the familiar form of Sabaody Archipelago, the pleasant sound of popping bubbles filling the room. As for the image… it focused on a group of individuals in nondescript hoodies that hid any identifying features, moving through the island with no haste, but a sense of purpose.

Both Vice Admirals peered at the sight, silently wondering what Cross was up to. Then the view zoomed in closer on one of the figures as they held up their hand, which held… a Dial—a Tone Dial—which he immediately activated with a click.

"Let's begin," the Voice of Anarchy's… well, voice, announced, his tone supremely smug. "First things first: Tell me, what do the Thirteen Supernovas know about the slave trade?"

In an instant, it was as if the entirety of Marineford was dunked in ice water.

Komei almost instantly had a flask out of his coat and in his hand, a haunted look in his eyes. "Please tell me you have more, because this will not be enough."

Tsuru, meanwhile, reached up to massage her newly throbbing temples. "This promises to be the start of a very long, very interesting day…"

As if to confirm their worst fears, a bevy of all-too-familiar voices sounded out from the shell.

~TWO HOURS EARLIER~

The reactions I got to my innocent question were… mooore underwhelming than I'd have thought.

"Of course," Drake exhaled, sounding positively tired as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"HAHAHA! I should have known it would not be something un-amusing or simple!" Urouge laughed.

"Shoulda seen this coming, huh?" Bonney muttered.

"I actually did!" Apoo snickered, proudly taking bills from a scowling Kid and… an impassive Hawkins?!

"Wait, you mean to say that you didn't?" Bartolomeo demanded. "You, Mr. Everything-Has-Gone-As-I-Have-Foreseen?!"

Hawkins merely shrugged. "Honestly, I predicted that he'd be burning this desecrated hive of scum and villainy to cinders. I woefully overshot."

"Yeah, sorry, but no," I cut in, getting everyone's attention again. "I'll admit to the temptation, but the archipelago isn't to blame, just the people involved in this. So yes, moderation. Now, if I may continue?"

Kid flipped me the bird, which I took as a yes.

"Anyway, skipping ahead a bit…" I adjusted my cap slightly. "You're all clearly aware of what the slave trade is and that it's present on this island, so let me reframe the question a bit: Why does it exist?"

That got a lot more confused looks out of people. "What… exactly are you asking?" Killer drew out.

"Allow me to specify," I elaborated. "Slavery is one of the grand peaks of moral bankruptcy. It is one of the worst actions one human being can commit against another, depravity in the extreme. Even we, who are regarded as the 'enemies of the world', acknowledge it as nothing short of pure evil that disgusts us one and all. And yet…" I waved my hand, indicating the very island we were on. "It not only exists, but thrives here in Sabaody Archipelago. Can anyone tell me why that is? Why the trade of human flesh still persists?"

Still more confusion, with glances exchanged and muttered speculations passed back and forth. This persisted until Bonney rapped her heel on the table.

"Come on, it's not that complicated, is it?!" the Glutton demanded, though there was a clear hint of uncertainty in her voice. "I mean… slavers, slave owners, they're all evil fucks! It's as easy as that, isn't it?…isn't it?"

Briefly, the room fell quiet…

"Tch. Idiot girl."

Quiet broken by a derisive scoff from Bege of all people.

Bonney, predictably, didn't take the slight well, snapping towards him with a snarl and gnash of her teeth. "The hell you call me, shortstack!?"

Said shortstack, however, pointedly ignored her ire in favor of taking a slow, hard draw from his cigar and breathing out a hefty plume of smoke, before turning my way. "The answer to your question," he drawled patiently. "Is not morality, though that is a factor. But rather, the reason the slave trade continues on this archipelago can best be answered…" Bege tapped off his cigar's ashes rather harshly. "By money."

I nodded sagely. "To be more specific, it's economics. The age-old concept of supply and demand." I held up my hands like a pair of scales. "Somebody wants something, and somebody else provides that something because they will be rewarded for doing so. The bottom line for any purchase ever. And it applies here as it does any other good."

I held up my right palm. "Slave owners are the source of the demand: they desire slaves for a variety of reasons, which, at the moment, are irrelevant. What is important is that due to the illicit nature of the goods they demand—flesh—the 'value' of their demand is incredibly high, because of all the risks involved in its procurement."

I then raised my left palm. "This high value, meanwhile, is what attracts the suppliers, the slave traders. They deal in this evil practice because of what they stand to gain from the transaction, and their greed smothers all other considerations. Hence, they supply lives without losing a wink of sleep because it benefits them."

I leaned back in my seat and clasped my hands together. "I asked you why the slave trade exists, why slavers sell slaves, and now I'll give you the answer: the trade exists, like all trade exists, because it is profitable. Because by selling lives and liberties to the highest bidder, the traders get their hands on those highest bids."

I let that grim reality sink in for a bit before slowly donning the most vicious grin I could manage. "And it is that very profit," I all but purred. "That will make what I am about to propose all the more appealing."

~o~

It had taken a considerable chunk of a suddenly sharply curtailed budget to ensure that every room in the pagodas of Marineford above a certain size had gotten a snail and screen permanently installed, but with Jeremiah Cross's influence reaching new heights with each broadcast, it was a necessary expense.

It was this new capability that had everyone in Marineford on high alert from the moment that Cross posed his first question. 'Everyone' included the poor souls just looking to relax a bit in the mess hall, which when the Voice of Anarchy announced his point included Vice Admiral Garp, his two apprentices, and his executive officer.

"Ooooh, I think I get it now…" Coby breathed, staring at the screen with a flabbergasted expression.

Garp's expression was neutral, thanks to the throbbing goose egg he'd earned when Cross sicced Sengoku on him. Not an unfamiliar feeling, granted, but it still hurt. "Yeah, I'll admit it's pretty smart," he grumbled out tersely. "Hell, I'm almost halfway impressed with the little shit…"

"Except that you're still pissed at him?" Bogard deadpanned.

"You're damn right I am!" Garp snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. "I don't care how brilliant that plan is, it's my idiot grandson whose delusions he's enabling! Thinking he's a pirate when he should be a hardworking Petty Officer by now, I'll wring both their necks!"

Bogard's already flat, skeptical expression somehow fell even flatter. "You still think Luffy can be a Marine. When literally everyone in this room has orders to shoot him on sight." He punctuated the statement by indicating the mess hall where they were enjoying their lunch, which was practically seething with discontent aimed right at the screen.

"Don't be an idiot!" Garp snorted dismissively. "That little moron's made of rubber, bullets don't do jack against him. Believe me, I've checked."

"…and just like that, so many questions answered and so many new ones raised in a single sentence."

"Still, though… I wonder if anyone thought that they'd try pulling off something this big," Garp frowned, his tone conveying grudging respect. Extremely grudging.

"Yes, yes, I see," Helmeppo nodded along. "Well, at least I know that this little plan of theirs, as brilliant and intricate as it is, can't be any worse than breaking the blockade."

Everyone in earshot looked at him with the most dead of deadpan looks. Well, everyone except for Coby, who was too nice to do that. He just looked at him with pity instead.

"You have no idea what Cross is getting at, do you," Bogard stated more than asked.

"What?! T-That is preposterous! Slanderous! Salubrious!"

Bogard turned his attention to Coby, who was by now resting his face in his palm. "Next time you're by the library, stick a dictionary down his throat, would you?"

"Aye, sir…"

"If what we've realized is right, Helmeppo?" Garp said, fixing his second apprentice with a leer. "The word 'worse' is as much of an understatement here as it was when they attacked Enies Lobby."

"Case in point, sir!" Coby suddenly yelped, directing everyone's attention back to the display.

On screen, the disguised figures were entering a building. The camera made damn sure the entire audience knew that, lingering on the storefront and then the group walking up to it. But by all accounts, it was nothing special, an unassuming and ordinary building—a clothing store, lacking in any particularly distinctive features aside from an eye-searing neon green t-shirt prominently displayed on a storefront mannequin.

As the group pushed open the doors, the camera followed them inside, zooming down to swoop inside the corner of the doorframe and shoot up into the crown of the room. A move which the building's owner totally missed, as he was more focused on the dozen or so 'customers' that had just entered his establishment. Said owner looked at a group that practically radiated 'distrustful crowd' with a distinct lack of unnerve, which in turn set the nerves of all other viewers on edge.

"May I help you?" the shopkeeper asked, addressing them as though he dealt with shadowy figures on a daily basis.

"We were directed here by Mister Drago," the lead figure of the group answered in a measured—and unrecognizable—voice. "Our business is currently shorthanded. We were informed that you provide the disenfranchised with… quality employment?"

As the exchange progressed, the camera scanned over the interior of the building: a sizable space with nicely arranged mannequins and clothes racks with a selection spanning a fair age range and both genders.

The officers watching were meant to abide by the law and stop any wrongdoing that they saw. Here, however… it was very clearly just an ordinary clothing store.

"…Alright, I give up," Helmeppo said. "What dastardly deed is done in this dashery? Designer smuggling?"

Receiving no answer, the young Marine glanced at his best friend and recoiled in surprise at the expression on his face. How had that one sergeant put it? Oh, right, fit to shank a bitch.

Garp grimaced. "Oh, right, I had you helping with that overflow paperwork on the prisoner transfers…"

"You knew!?" the MCPO snapped incredulously.

"Couldn't do anything about it, none of us could," Garp replied, looking like he'd bit into a lemon with a cut in his mouth. "Came from above our heads. And before you say anything, above Sengoku's too."

Coby's face remained a few shades darker than his hair as he turned back to the screen. "Luffy… could this actually happen to…?"

"Uh… for the benefit of those of us who didn't help with that overflow paperwork…" Helmeppo prompted.

The confusion for Helmeppo and everyone else in the room not savvy enough to understand yet promptly evaporated when the owner slid the front counter's top back and opened one of its sides, revealing a hidden staircase to an underground level.

"Oh," said Helmeppo, then again, darkly. "Oh." Turning to Garp with a thunderous expression, he asked, "So, how much money is the government getting for this?"

"Way too much, kid," Garp sighed, trying to knead away his growing migraine. "Way too much…" He then glanced aside with a slight scowl. "And way too much of it is going places I can't follow…"

Meanwhile, on the screen, the hooded figures followed the shop owner down the stairs in single file. And as the view followed them, Cross's voiceover resumed.

~o~

"Alright, so the slaver scum stay scum because they're making money hand over fist," Law groused, shooting me a grim look that I'm pretty sure was at least halfway genuine. "What was the point of telling us all this?"

"The first half of this was meant to properly explain that the slave trade is profitable. Now I want to impress on you just how much it's profitable."

"Somehow I doubt you're building up to us getting a slice of that 'demand' pie ourselves."

"Well, you're not entirely wrong, but I'll elaborate in a bit. For now… let me impress on you all just what that 'pie' looks like."

I fished a pamphlet out of my back pocket and held it up for everyone to see. "Let's start with a baseline. This is a pricing list from the Human Auction House, located on Grove 1 of the Archipelago. It says that the starting bid for a single human is ฿500,000. As the Auction House is the single most successful slave store, let's assume their prices to set the standard. This means we can assume that one slave's life is worth ฿500,000."

There were a few grimaces and scowls at the idea of putting a price on a person's life—without them having done something to earn it, I mean—but nobody disagreed with me.

"Now, time for some simple math. Let's assume that one slaver sells on average ten human slaves in one day. That means that that slaver earned their lives' worth ten times over. So at the end of the day, that slaver has ฿5 Million."

A few of the gathered pirates shifted, but it was the shifting of boredom rather than interest. Kid's body language in particular screamed "Get on with it!"

"Next, let's broaden the scope a bit. Let's assume that there are ten slavers on the Sabaody Archipelago, and they all sell ten slaves in a day. Tack on another zero, and collectively that makes ฿50 Million in one place."

A few people perked up at that, but then eyed everyone around them, did the math, and settled down again. But at this point, Bege was starting to look interested.

"And now, let's move this into the fourth dimension a bit: time. See, the thing about scum like the slavers, there are two assumptions you can make about pretty much any of them: they're greedy sons of bitches, and they're paranoid sons of bitches. So!" I swung my arms out in a grandiose manner. "What's the last thing a greedy, paranoid piece of shit's gonna do with his money? I'll tell you: let it out of their sight. Rather…"

I leaned forward, grin widening. "These kinds of people, they hoard their money, keeping it in arm's reach at all times, and spending the bare minimum to get what they need, both personally and for their business. Because while buying things with money is fine, for these guys it's more about having it. Make sense?"

While the impatience was still there, a handful of them—most of whom were Damned—nodded in understanding.

"So, as I said, time. Let's assume ten slavers sell ten slaves a day…" I knocked my finger on the table. "And let's assume they still have all the money they've made." Another knock. "Over the past month." A third knock. "Let's multiply our original ฿50 Million…" I grinned savagely as I finished. "By thirty."

One by one, everyone did the math in their heads. They ran the numbers, they added it all up, tacked on the zeroes… and one by one, their faces went slack as though they had seen the face of God.

"฿50 Million times thirty," Killer wheezed, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the table. "That… that's…"

"One. Point. Five. Billion Beris…" Urouge bit out, staring at nothing in sheer awe. "On one island."

I think Bege summed it up best of all when he let out a sharp wheeze, as though somebody had kicked him clean in the gut.

But still, amusing as this was, we were on a slight time crunch, soooo…

"People, people, please…" I waved my hands placatingly. "I implore you hold your reactions until the very end. After all…" I grinned impishly. "I'm not quite done yet."

The way the other Novas' attention snapped to me, you would have thought I'd just offered them the One Piece.

"For you see, my friends, that number I just laid before you? That 1.5 Billion bounty?" I folded my hands patiently. "That's the lowball estimate."

I swear to God, in that instant, I think I heard some of their minds break.

"You see, ladies and gentlemen, what you have to remember is that all those variables I was giving you were assumptions made to establish a baseline. In truth, the statistics inflate quite drastically, aided by the fact that Sabaody Archipelago is the world's premiere slave-selling hub. Not the only one, but the main one. And as such… we need to tick some of our variables up a notch."

I popped up one of my fingers. "Variable one: each slave house sells a lot more than a mere ten slaves a day."

A second finger. "Variable two: as this is the primary slave market, there are far more people here to exploit it than just ten slave shops. And of course, we also need to tack on the slave shops' own providers, the kidnapping gangs, who run pretty brisk business all their own."

A third. "Variable three: Sabaody Archipelago has been open for business 24/7/365 for the past two hundred years. And over that timeframe, wealth has built up and up throughout these groves, and I will just bet you that every person getting their hands on that money has been loathe, absolutely loathe to part with it for any reason whatsoever. Money comes in, it doesn't come out, and the numbers just keep. Ticking. Up."

"And lastly," I clapped my hands together as I hit variable four. "The most variable variable is price. As I said, ฿500,000 is the baseline for a human slave. The baseline. Now, I won't lie, chances are that some shops will sell on the cheap, for less than that, maybe even most… but others. Others will inflate their prices, and sell for more. And again, that's just humans. The lowest, the weakest, the simplest. Literally every other species that passes through here in chains goes for a price per head that is a full factor higher than that of humans. Truly sickening… and truly, truly profitable."

"And you're all forgetting one last variable," Nami piped up, transferring attention onto herself and her writhing and flexing Eisen Tempo. "The clients. Dozens of rich people, spread across this entire archipelago, bringing with them enough money to afford these exuberant prices and plenty left over. And of course there's their jewelry and the exotic pieces they wouldn't be caught dead travelling without on their yachts, because of course the rich must present themselves as such. Nothing but dressing and appearances…" Her expression and clouds lit up malevolently at the same time. "But appearances worth millions apiece."

"And it's all easy to just knock over and get," Zoro snorted with a grim smile that just promised pain. "After all, all the power that slavers and slave owners hold come from the fact that they hold the chains. Take those away from them, and compared to anyone in this room, they're nothing but weaklings. And for once, weaklings who you can actually feel proud about kicking while they're down."

"My fellow apex outlaws," I picked up again, smirking menacingly at my stunned listeners. "I think I've built this up enough. My point of saying all of this is that while we could view these slave houses as hives of scum and villainy that are far worse than any one of us, we could view them another way. Namely, as our very own piggy banks, just waiting to be smashed open. And this archipelago, this horrid, wretched place of nightmares and misery, is the single richest location on this side of the Red Line, bar none. And it is all. All. Ours. For the taking."

~o~

The abhorrent image now being broadcast showed a dark complex reminiscent of a prison beneath the shop. As the shopkeeper calmly led the hooded figures into the corridor between the cell, three thugs rose from a nearby table, their smokes and cards forgotten, their posture at attention. Kinda. They were still just thugs.

But it wasn't this dark scene that had Totland's Sweet Commanders staring at the screen with wide eyes.

"How… has nobody considered this before?" demanded Cracker, his jaw twitching.

"Nobody who had the right balance of 'strong enough to do something about it' and 'too rich and powerful to give a damn about it', I would guess," Katakuri answered, his fingers tapping against his arms in intense thought. "As is, Mama and the Beast have always benefitted too much from slavers' services to even consider the idea."

Charlotte Smoothie snorted in equal parts disgust and sadistic anticipation. "Not the first time that Jeremiah Cross has imposed his worldview on his viewers."

Katakuri hummed and nodded in agreement. "Though the question is why he's sharing this opinion with a bunch of rookies who couldn't… be made to…" And so it was that the ineffable No. 1 of the Big Mom Pirates stiffened, his eyes widening in shocked realization. "…Oh."

Snack glanced at his elder brother with dull curiosity. "Eh? What're you—?"

On screen, the merchant cleared his throat, and the Commanders all fell silent.

"As I'm sure you've been informed, I offer a wide selection of merchandise," the trader announced, gesturing at his 'stock' dismissively as he took a seat behind a desk near the back of the room. "The pieces we have on display are good for menial labor, and if you're looking for a stress reliever we have new shipments in the back that haven't been fully broken yet. A handful of youths and a healthy supply of adult men and women. Base price is 1 million per head, but if you pay in cash or purchase more than fifteen I can arrange for a small discount."

"Hrm…" the leader of the group hummed thoughtfully, visibly tapping his fingers together. Stepping up and down the length of the prison, he examined each slave in their cage. Each slave, in turn, flinched back from the gaze.

The examination finished with the leader in front of the trader's desk. "How about I make you an offer and we go from there?"

"By all means, sir," the trader replied.

~o~

The mood in the room was positively jubilant. Beri signs had replaced eyes all around, and you could practically smell the greed in the room. It smelled like money, naturally. Everything seemed to be going as planned… exceeept…

"Zoro wins, Kid's about to book it," Soundbite subtly informed us, rolling his eyestalks.

Nami scowled and Zoro smirked as our navigator tossed our mosshead a bundle under the table.

And true to Soundbite's words, Kid shoved himself out of his seat and turned for the doors. "Fuck you guys! You brought us here to set us on the slavers? Fine by me! Too bad for you it worked too well, I'm taking that money all for—!"

"Eustass Kid, you walk out that door and I guarantee that you'll be cutting a zero clean off your potential haul, if not all of ours," I snapped, slamming my words into his back like a sledgehammer.

A sledgehammer backed up by every eye in the room suddenly piercing Kid's back and freezing him in place.

Ever so slowly, the infamous captain turned his head to glare back at me, the air rippling around him with electromagnetic weight. "Say that again?" he growled.

I almost flinched under the sheer force of his ire, and managed to channel it into a few twitches of my fingers. "There's one more trait to slavers that I neglected to mention and that you're forgetting, Kid," I patiently drawled. "Paranoid. Greedy. Cowards. They're rats, all of them. And what do rats do when one of them gets caught?"

"They scatter," Killer answered for me, side-eyeing Kid from under his mask. "Face facts, Kid: we've got a lot of bruisers on our crew, maybe second only to Bege even, but we don't have enough people to cover the archipelago. We can hit two, maybe three slave houses at the same time." He slammed his gauntlet down, hard. "And that's what we'll get. Three. Everyone else will hear that slavers are getting hit and go to ground. Instead of a fortune, we'll only get a fraction."

"Which is why we're all here," Law mused, cradling his chin. "If we want to hunt rats, then we need to do it right. Close every escape route, push them into a corner. If we work together… we'll get them all, or at least a hell of a lot."

"So the question becomes, Kid," I drawled, holding up my hand for him to see. "What do you really want to walk away with? Will you leave with gold bullion? Or will you let it all turn to gold sand, and slip through your fingers?"

Kid's face was as red as his hair when he turned back to me. Sighing explosively, the punk captain slammed back into his seat. "Hurry the hell up, Cross, because I'm this close to throttling you with your own hands."

I set my jaw and planted my palms flat on the table. "So noted. I'll try and keep this short. Nami, if you would?"

At my prompting, Nami withdrew a sheaf of papers from her jacket and slid them down the table. She held up a sheet of her own, showing it to be her map of the archipelago. "What you're holding is as comprehensive a map of Sabaody Archipelago as I could manage on short notice. Each red dot is a slave house. And as you can see…" She scowled at the paper, which looked like it had chicken pox.

"Cross was understating things when he said there were more than ten slave houses on this archipelago. Which is a good thing for our wallets, bad for covering the entire place. The truth is, even working together we're probably not going to be able to hit all the slavers before they bolt. But if you follow our plan and we position people and ships the right way, then we can move and clear the shops with maximum efficiency, and thus maximum profits."

"Sounds good to me," Kid said, standing up to leave again, though thankfully much less angrily. "I'll go get my jagoffs ready to go and then you can call me and… blrgh, start telling me where to start busting heads. Maybe cracking skulls will help mine stop pounding, come on, Killer!"

"And of course, while you're busting heads," I tacked in, tapping my fingertips together. "You could see about busting the 'merchandise's' chains open too. Why not, hm?" Maybe he'd take that as a given and we wouldn't have any issues. But more likely…

Kid stopped midstep, slamming his hand to his face with a savage growl. "…It is a mistake to talk to you again, and an even bigger one to ask you this question… but why, exactly, should we care about—?"

My gauntleted fist slamming down on the table was punctuated by Soundbite's Rottweiler-esque snarling. "Watch. Your. Wording."

"…the slaves," he finished tightly, though the door's hinges—no, the room's whole structure was creaking ominously.

Worse, while nobody openly agreed with Kid, I could see a few of our more 'morally dubious' allies side-eyeing me, awaiting an answer. Not that surprising, really, these were pirates we were dealing with, not saints. Hence why I'd come up with an answer long before this.

"I've got a few reasons that would appeal to you, actually. First, the obvious one: snubbing the Navy." Yeah, that got them paying attention. "As you'll recall, we're right on Marineford's doorstep. In any other circumstances they'd have all three Admirals bringing down the wrath of God on our heads… but this is the one they explicitly can't touch with a ten-foot pole. Their reputation is in the toilet already thanks to yours truly, so if we free the slaves as we go, then we can commit our little 'crime' spree in broad daylight and all they'll be able to do is watch. This'll be front-page news to begin with; how much worse will it be if it's not just pirates freeing slaves, but Marines trying to stop them?"

It clearly took a lot of effort for Kid to not smirk at that, and nobody else tried to suppress the urge.

"Second, rob the dealers of their treasure and they're left broke. Rob them of the slaves too, and they're left with absolutely nothing. It'll dramatically reduce any future profits, but it also means we don't need to watch our backs for vengeance in the form of assassins, hired mercenaries, things like that. This also counts towards the 'kick them while they're down' side of things."

The promise of pain visibly swayed Kid more. Which wouldn't last long with what I was about to say next, but seriously—

"And number three… leaving someone in chains when you have the keys in your hand is a dick move" I declared, tone as dry as Alabasta in a drought. "Are you really telling us it's this hard for you to not be a dick? For, like, not even the whole day, just a few minutes at a time?"

"ALRIGHT, THAT FUCKING—!"

If my gauntlets hadn't had inset sea prism stone, they probably would have snapped my own neck before anyone could do anything. Since they did, though, Luffy had plenty of time to zip over to Kid and grab his arm.

With the dangerous look in his eyes, it came as a surprise what happened next.

"You can also ask them to join your crew."

"…what was that?" Kid demanded, side-eyeing the rubber man.

"You could ask the people you free if they want to join your crew," Luffy repeated. "It's not just normal people who get taken, it's pirates, too. Some might be too strong, but others could have been tricked and then they couldn't get out. A lot of them will probably want to go home, but if you free a pirate and they still want to go back to the sea, after all they've gone through…"

There was a heavy moment as everyone mulled over Luffy's words. From the eager grins that spouted ten seconds later, they agreed. Hell, some of the Supernovas seemed almost more eager about this prospect than the money.

"He has a point," I admitted with a smirk, snapping Kid's irate—though now somewhat restrained—glare back to me. "Whoever you free is going to look at you as a savior. I know you wouldn't care about a bunch of civvies liking you, but Luffy's right, even pirates can get bagged. Hell, it's even more likely because a bigger bounty and the kind of physical strength and stamina you get at sea both make a person more valuable. And if that muscle's will hasn't broken by the time they're set loose? Well, you won't find a more loyal crewmate, now will you?"

Kid grit and ground his teeth as though the sign of admission were being tortured out of him, and normally I'd revel in that, but I still needed this mutt to work with me on this, so…

"But hey," I shrugged in an exaggerated manner. "If you're that opposed to it, then fine. Just stick with my group during the hunting. You grab the money, I'll break the chains. Hell!" I swept my arms out to indicate the rest of the Supernovas. "We'll all do it. Split our crews up and mix the parties. That way, nobody can pull one over on the others, keeping us all honest. Satisfied?"

Kid stared for a few moments, twitching slightly. Finally, he sighed again, somehow managing to relax while staying just as tense. "I hate you, Jeremiah Cross."

That ticked my temper a bit. Standing, I marched up right in front of him, Luffy stepping aside, and stared him right in the eyes. "And I'm not your biggest fan either. In case you missed it, I don't give you shit for shits and giggles, I do it because while none of us in here are saints, you're a literal monster," I spat. "If I could I'd send you to Davy Jones in a heartbeat, but much like the Marines and Akainu, you're more useful to us breathing."

"You want me to change my tune, give me a damn reason to. But until then, we can either stick together and give the world a right hook that will leave it seeing double for the rest of its days, or you can walk out that door and be on your merry way, not having lost a beri from having associated with me. And it's all entirely, entirely your choice. So you tell me, Eustass 'Captain' Kid…"

I stuck my hand out to the punk metal pirate, still glaring into his eyes.

"Are you in or out?"

~o~

"I'll make this nice and simple," the group's leader announced. "I have two offers I can put on the table: either you can hand us the keys to your earnings and savings, along with the keys to every slave collar in this joint… or I can give you a lifetime supply of chocolate. So tell me, good sir. Which will it be?"

The slaver, up to now thoroughly professional, leveled an unimpressed glare at the speaker, the thugs nearby fingering their weapons. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm running a delicate business operation here. I don't welcome jokes in my establishment," he tersely answered.

"Ahhh, but see, this is the Grand Line, and someone like you is good at reading people. So tell me, friend…" The group leader tilted his head. "Do I seem like I'm lying to you?"

The trader stared at his would-be customer for a minute, looking him all over, judging his words and person. And then, his eyes slowly widened in shocked realization.

"…you'll really give me a lifetime supply of chocolate if I ask for it?"

The potential customer gave him a thumbs-up. "Last you 'til the end of your days, guaranteed."

The trader's expression lit up and he let out a bark of shocked laughter. "Then hell, should be pretty obvious, yeah? I'll take it! Give it to me!"

"All too gladly," the hooded figure chuckled as he reached into his coat and held out… one bar of chocolate. The shopkeeper's expression collapsed entirely into even stronger blandness than before.

"…You serious? How do you consider this—?!"

KA-CLI-CLI-CLICK!

The trader's words died in his throat as the visitors to his fine establishment produced well over a dozen firearms between them. There were at least two for every guard, and four on the trader himself.

The leading figure shifted his hood just enough to reveal a cheery grin. "Would you like to enjoy your chocolate now, or would you rather take a mulligan?"

"W-W-What the fuck is this?!" the slave trader gibbered, somewhere between furious and terrified.

"Whaaaat, you've never been robbed at gunpoint before? My oh my, you have my sincerest congratulations!" the hooded man laughed, applauding. "Truly, your clientele must be outstanding paragons of virtue."

"Y-You little…" the trader snarled. He stepped forward, but hastily reversed direction when four thumbs cocked their guns. "W-Why the hell are you doing this, huh?!"

"Weeeell, most first reason I can think of is that you're scum of the earth who deserves to have the worst things imaginable—things that you've done—done unto you, but honestly?"

The trader nearly had a heart attack as the leading man tossed back his hood, revealing the familiar smirking face of Jeremiah Cross, with his damnable pet snail resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah, my identity says it best, huh?" Cross smirked tauntingly.

"Wait, you're—? H-Ha… haha!" The trader suddenly broke out laughing, a wary relief in his voice. "You're b-bluffing! You're bluffing! You wouldn't kill me! None of your c-crew would!" The slave trader jerked fully upright and slammed his palms down on his desk, snarling at Cross. "You really t-think I'll ruin myself just because the worst a little twerp like you could do is beat me up!?"

Cross and Soundbite exchanged mischievous stares and malicious smirks. "True, we'd likely just beat you black and blue and leave it at that..." Cross admitted.

And then, without warning, another figure grabbed the trader's head and slammed his face down onto the desk, their other hand drawing a pistol and planting it against the side of his head. The hood slipped off from the motion, revealing the wickedly grinning visage of a pirate that was decidedly not a Straw Hat.

"But I don't have any problems putting one through your skull and leaving you for the Sea Kings," Eustass Kid leered. "Got any doubts about that?"

The trader turned a desperate look at Cross, who simply made a show of buffing his nails. When he noticed the trader looking his way, he shrugged casually. "Hey now, what do you want from me? My captain isn't here, and I rather like living. Getting in the way of Kid to save your worthless ass runs counter to my sense of self-preservation."

"COME ON, DOES THIS REALLY SURPRISE YOU?" Soundbite taunted. "I'd say that a lack of empathy is something you of all people SHOULD REAAAALLY EMPATHIZE WITH!"

"What do you want, what do you want?" the trader begged miserably.

Cross's smile turned cold. "Let me be nice and clear here: your life is over. It's your choice whether that statement is literal or metaphorical. Now… we'll be taking all the funds in your coffers and every last one of your victims. If you're still inclined to resist, I should warn you that I wouldn't be able to stop my 'associate' here from tearing you apart if I wanted to. And quite frankly?"

"He doesn't want to," Kid finished, bloodlust radiating from his grin as he increased the pressure he was putting on his victim's skull. "So by all means, give me an excuse."

"Th-th-th-the vault is down the h-h-hallway, last door o-on the right, the keys are right h-here! A-a-and the guards have the keys for the slaves, the stock room is through the side door!" the shopkeeper babbled, the keyring in his hand jingling when he fished it from his belt. Kid snatched the ring, shoved him aside, and kicked him in the ribs while he was down for good measure.

"Haul's all yours, as agreed," Cross nodded. Kid gave the slightest of nods back before stalking to the end of the hallway. One of the thugs had enough common sense to toss Cross his keyring; the other two still hesitated. Cross rolled his eyes and gestured flatly at the rest of the hooded figures still with him. "Did I forget to mention that these guys are from other Supernova crews, i.e. not Straw Hats?"

That loosened the hold on their keys right quick.

Cross nodded in polite thanks. "Much obliged." His expression then darkened, a jerk of his head directed at the pirates behind him. "Knock 'em out."

The guards barely had time to look scared before their lights (and more than a few teeth) were punched out.

As tempting as it was, leaving the slave merchant and his lackeys alive was the better thing to do, both morally and pragmatically. It kept the operation's image clean and would spread the tale throughout the slaving community.

All of those considerations damn near went out the window he opened the side door and got a good look at the slaves' 'living' quarters. If their current state of existence could even be called such.

Each and every person in that room was chained to the wall by a bomb collar around their necks. Skin exposed by frayed reject bin clothing oozed blood and other, more unpleasant liquids from weeping sores. But it was the faces that really got to him. Faces painted in despair and hunger in their dark bags and prominent cheekbones, traces of anger and sadness only barely visible. And there were easily dozens of them; as the trader had said, he didn't lack for diversity.

It took a solid minute for him to fight down his anger, and after that minute, he climbed onto a convenient crate, looked all of the slaves over, and spoke.

"As of three minutes ago, this place is OUT! OF! BUSINESS!" he announced, garnering the undivided attention of the EX-slaves in the building. Unsurprisingly, skepticism was the order of the day, but many of the ex-slaves had some life back in their eyes. "I'll say again, all of you are getting out of here. If you think you can get home safe on your own, feel free to bolt. Anyone who can't find their way home, follow the maps we give you. We'll have you out of those chains as soon as we match the keys."

Silence met his declaration, disbelief tinged with hope upon their faces. But as he split the keyrings between the other pirates with him and they began testing keys and keyholes, the realization that they were about to be free began to sink in. Tears welled in their eyes, and with them cries of relief and adulation.

Cross wasted no time once he had the cells open, recalling the organizational process that CP9 had used and finding to his relief that the slaver had a similar labeling system between keys and their chains. One by one, Cross fitted the keys, prisoner after liberated prisoner offering him their heartfelt gratitude.

And this trend would have likely continued, were it not for a major, and unexpected, interruption.

"What the hell is the holdup, Cro—"

Cross couldn't quite bring himself to care that Kid had stopped mid-demand, focused as he was on going through the keys.

"Either shut your mouth and help or shut your mouth and get out, but either way, cram it."

Finally locating the right key, Cross inserted it into the lock. He was thus caught entirely flatfooted when a ripple passed through the air, the lock in his hands, and in fact every lock in the joint, clicking open all at once.

It took Cross half a minute to properly reboot his brain, and by the time he turned around and looked back at Kid, the other pirate was already halfway to the store's exit.

"We're wasting time. Come on," he tossed over his shoulder dismissively.

Cross stared at Kid's back in stunned silence before nodding and snapping up a quick salute. "…Aye-aye, Captain Kid. Lead the way."

And though Kid didn't openly acknowledge either of the gestures, the fact that he actually missed a step spoke volumes.

Once the moment had passed, Cross followed behind him, deftly positioning himself as he walked so that he impeded as few of the escaping freed slaves as possible, even helping a particularly injured man hobble up the stairs.

And as he went, smiling all the way, Cross patted the pocket where he'd stashed his Tone Dial.

~o~

I clicked my Tone Dial again, ending the recording process; that should be more than enough material to get the ball rolling. Now we just needed to start this thing off and it'd be over before the World Government could even process what was happening to it.

As such, with parts assigned and crew combinations roughly hashed out, everyone got up to leave the room. Right in the middle of the door, however, Bonney paused and looked back at me.

"What aren't you telling us here, Cross?" she asked, everyone else freezing themselves. "Look, don't get me wrong here, I'm willing to believe that you're not going to double-cross us this time, and God knows that this is totally in line with something you would pull, but at the same time I can't shake the fact that it isn't. No matter how big what we do today is, no matter how unprecedented… the fact is that it's still too simple. Too… fleeting."

Bege was the next to frown at me. "She's right. Even after we've burned down these slave houses and stolen all of their 'goods', they'll still have their skills and connections, and still have any funds they keep stashed off the archipelago. Some of them have to be prudent enough to store some savings off-island. No matter how much we reduce to ash, it will all be like nothing ever happened a few months from now. So tell us, Cross. What's the real scam here?"

I coughed and tugged at my collar, taking a second to arrange my thoughts…

"…We're not the only ones who'll be doing this."

Only for that to become unnecessary thanks to Luffy, of all people. My captain wore an expression that even I couldn't quite decipher, and when he didn't elaborate, I bowed my head and backed up a bit, which got him to continue.

"Why do pirates bury treasure and use X to mark the spot?" Luffy asked.

Continue into a very weird place that had the Supernovas looking at each other in confusion, but continue nonetheless.

"Why do we wear eyepatches and have hook hands and peg legs? Why do we listen when people call for parley, or a Davy Back Fight?" he forged on. "Why do we fly the Jolly Roger as our flag?" Silence. "None of you know why, do you?" The doubtful looks the other captains wore spoke volumes. "I'll tell you why: It's because all that stuff is just what pirates do. It's who we are, what piracy is. We do all of that stuff because it's how things are done, how things have always been done."

"You're talking about the memetic identity of piracy…" Law mused thoughtfully.

"Chalk up another ingredient for the ANACHRONISM STEW…"

I hid a chuckle in a cough, but sobered up quickly, because Luffy looked confused again. I nodded. Yes, Law was right.

"Anyway, this identity stuff, it's how all pirates define themselves," Luffy continued. "I know there isn't really a pirate code or anything, but this is pretty close. And now…" Luffy tilted his head forward, and the shadows of his hat made his eyes burn. "Now we're going to add one more thing to it all."

In the space of a second it was as though the room was struck by lightning. Luffy gave it no time to settle.

"We're not going to tell the other pirates," Luffy… no, Straw Hat Luffy explained. "Because this can't just be 'our plan.' Instead, we're going to start on our own. When the pirates who are here all learn about this from our crewmates, and when everyone sees it on the SBS, they're going to think 'we can do this too' and do the same thing we do. And then, because it was their idea and it worked so good, they'll do it again. And again. And again. And when the other pirates see that we'll grow our crews, our treasure, and our reputations in a way that the Marines can't attack us for, they'll take their own cut of the meat just like we will."

"And it will keep happening," Nami picked up. "Over and over again, because it's easy and it will work. They're going to learn that this big, vile beast known as slavery bleeds gold, and they won't stop cutting into it until it runs dry."

"This plan becomes a legend," Zoro picked up, drumming his fingers on Shusui's hilt. "The legend spreads around the world, people imitate the legend. The legend fades into obscurity, and the raids become tradition. And even when tradition fades, the habit remains."

"And lo and behold," I chuckled as I spread my arms wide, as though it were all nice and self-evident. "A new dawn on a new world. Simple, no?"

From the awestruck expressions of the Novas, I'd say it was more than simple enough for them.

Bonney slowly sank into a chair, staring off into space. "You're… going to set piracy against slavery…" she all but wheezed.

"And not just slavery, but other reprehensible criminals who are not pirates as well!" Urouge uttered, sounding way too happy at the idea. "Drug traffickers, criminal syndicates…!"

"It'll make pirates a whole lot of enemies…" Bege wondered, his expression swiftly lighting up as realization struck him. "And when other criminals band together and try to fight back against pirates, they'll hit those uninvolved too, and draw vendettas on their backs! Pirates band together to survive, fight even harder against criminals… this isn't just drawing lines in the sand here, it's carving them in stone!"

The mood was quickly rising, vindictive glee filling everyone to the brim…

"But this won't change pirates, you know."

And then of course the mood was popped, though rather than Kid doing it, it was actually Killer who grounded us in reality.

"They'll still loot and pillage, still go after civilians," the masked marauder stated. "And even then, this won't be instant. Five years, ten? The next generation, or the one after? No matter what, easy money says we won't live to see this through."

I let the mood hang heavy for a bit. But only for a bit. "You're right, we won't. But that's not the point. Even if this won't change everyone, it will define us. Define our generation, define those who can adapt and grow, and those who are locked in their ways. In the end, we will be as immortal as Gol D. Roger. And I think that's a goal we can all strive for, isn't it?"

The room fell silent once more, but this time it was with an awe and hope that was truly positive. Maybe I could pump it up a little more…?

"Oh, and have I mentioned the other payment to all of you for going along with this plan?" I whistled 'innocently'. "Well, consider it a surprise for later. You're all gonna love it."

Aaaand just like that everyone was glaring daggers at me. Even my own crewmates!? Oh come on!

"A good surprise!" I clarified, snorting and crossing my arms in disgust. "Eesh, you people, no trust."

"Your last 'surprise' robbed us all blind!" Barto belted out, to the nods and grunts of everyone else once more, including my own crew, seriously?!

"And yet you're still standing here like I promised and—Ugh, forget it," I groaned, waving my hands. "Yeah, you know what, I'm done arguing over this. Let's just move this along to the part where we boot the World Government in the balls, please?"

~o~

Once more, the population of Amazon Lily had clustered inside of the colosseum, and it took Boa Hancock and Boa Marigold every ounce of willpower that they had to keep any semblance of composure. Though their hellish memories roiled just beneath the surface, the reality of one of their wildest dreams before their eyes was stirring too much shock and bliss for them to succumb.

"Even after everything else… I never expected that they'd go this far," Marigold whispered.

"The fact that he has those other rookies nyon helping him is proof enough that he's been planning this one for a long time," Nyon said shrewdly. "Even so… the question nyon is whether it will be enough."

"It must be," Hancock nearly snarled, staring with determination at the screen. "I never expected anyone to do this much damage to those damnable slave traders again, but now that this is before my eyes… I've only dreamed of this happening, and I will not accept the possibility that he fails!"

Hancock's voice was relatively quiet, the passion within notwithstanding. The nearby amazons couldn't hear the words she said, but they could definitely interpret the fury therein. And nobody wondered why considering that they now had a view of the erstwhile slaves in sunlight rather than the dimly lit dungeon. Every scar, every teardrop, every dirt stain, every evidence of the slavers' abuse was plain as day as the dozens of humans—men, women, and children alike—embraced their newfound freedom.

Rather quickly, the screen burst into motion. Many of the more recently captured slaves were quick to bolt without a second thought, undoubtedly running off to either find quick transportation home, or rejoin whatever crews or ships they'd initially been on before getting snatched.

Others, however, who showed more significant and longer-lasting scarring, were nowhere near so eager. Those unfortunate individuals had been imprisoned for so long that either they were too weak and disoriented to get very far on their own, or the transportation they'd used to get to the archipelago had long since departed. These were the people who were stranded.

But those without recourse actually had one option remaining to them: the maps that had been handed out to them by the pirates. Despite their new freedom, several of them were hesitant, whether from general trust issues or trust issues regarding pirates specifically. Ultimately, though, they had little choice in the matter, so the released slaves used the maps to get their bearings, and started migrating to the destination marked upon them.

As the slaves made their escape, the pirates casually strolled out of the now-defunct shop, idly watching the escapees stream around them.

"So now what, they'll just go from shop to shop, beating up slavers and breaking their chains?" Marigold hissed. "The others will bail like rats, I thought Cross was smarter than that! He said that himself, even!"

"Hold on, Mari nyon," Nyon interrupted before the larger of the Boas could really rile herself up. "What did he say earlier? None of the pirates with him are part of his crew. And in fact, Kid is with them. So, what does this say about how well the other Supernovas took his plan?"

"…good. Very, very good," Marigold reasoned, settling back into her chair.

"Still…" Hancock sigh despondently. "I would greatly appreciate some sign of how well their endeavors are going."

A few seconds ticked by. All three women looked at the screen with frowns.

"Really, nyon he's usually so punctual when someone—"

KRA-BOOM!

"—no, never mind, there it is!" Nyon yelped, reeling back.

And indeed, all eyes in the stadium were locked on the screen, thanks to the explosions roaring on it. Any actual smoke and flame, however, was conspicuous in its absence. The explosions themselves sounded… distant, even.

"Those must have been the other parties," Hancock mused.

"Any of ours?" Kid unknowingly echoed.

The latter pulled out a map, his eyes roving over it quickly, before adopting a demonic grin.

"Not a one," he confirmed with a tone of immense satisfaction. "Gotta love the speed of word of mouth."

The Amazons all boggled in shock at that little revelation. "Wait, what!?" was the Boa sisters' echoed sentiment, but Nyon got ahold of her much more quickly as her eyes widened even further in realization.

"Is… Is he trying to—?" the Elder breathed to herself.

Meanwhile, the more reviled pirate regarded Cross dryly before snapping his head away with a sharp tsk, and an even sharper grin. "Guess you're halfway useful for something after all, you arrogant jagoff."

Cross snickered as he walked off, backhanding Kid's arm as he passed. "Come on, shit-kicker. Let's go and earn our bounties."

That sunk in for a few moments, and a decision that Hancock had been debating for the last few days finally crystallized.

"…Elder Nyon."

"Yes, Snake Princess?"

"Do you still have that number that Sandersonia sent us a few days ago?"

"Why, yes, yes I do. Why? Are you considering the idea of accepting?"

"No… but I am considering the idea of considering."

-o-

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Jeremiah Cross had, of course, had the good sense to turn on the transceiver's dead zone before he commenced the SBS. Even with all of the Supernovas' crews in place, odds were that any competent slaver could pack up their 'stock' and vanish with only a few minutes' notice. Despite this, there was one loophole that it couldn't prevent: a snail that was on a call with another snail off of the island could listen in to the SBS by proxy.

And so it was that the owner of the Human Auction House was in the middle of a panic attack.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god they're coming to get me!" Disco wheezed, digging furrows into the top of his desk in an attempt to keep his brain from outright collapsing.

"Nyeh nyeh, calm down, you're overreacting," the voice on the other end of the line droned, noisily snorting up an errant trail of snot.

"OVERREACTING!?" Disco shrieked. "THE STRAW HATS ARE HUNTING SLAVERS AND I RUN THE BIGGEST SLAVE HOUSE ON THIS HELLHOLE! THEY EVEN MENTIONED IT BY NAME! I'M A DEAD MAN, YOU HAVE TO TELL DOFLAMINGO TO—!"

"Nyeh, you'll be twice as dead in ten seconds if you don't shut up," the voice cut in, any trace of good humor gone.

Disco instantly locked his jaw, crushing his panic for what could happen to him under the immediate threat for his life. "Y-Yes, Master Trebol…" the auctioneer miserably whimpered.

"Right, that's better. Now, then…" Trebol huffed, tamping his temper back under control and readopting his carefree leer. "Although you presume much in thinking you can tell Donquixote Doflamingo what to do, you are right that something needs to be done."

And then, just like that, the sticky-human's leer took on a flavor of pure evil. "In fact, the Young Master foresaw something just like this from the moment the Straw Hats set their eyes on Sabaody. Which is why the Young Master is already handling it."

"More specifically, that's why I'm here."

Disco jumped and span around to the voice behind him, inside his locked office, and staggered as he tried to leap away from one of the last people he ever thought he'd see.

"Y-Y-You…!" he wheezed in mortal terror, his brain misfiring as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. "W-What are you doing here?!"

"Oh, you know, not much…"

The malicious smile on the newcomer's face made Disco very grateful for very many things in his life.

First and foremost, that he was an ally, rather than an enemy…

Of the Donquixote Famiglia.

"Just taking care of business."