Chapter 68: Stalling

Cross-Brain AN: We're aware that many of you have been anxious in one way or another for matters to go south after this much has gone right for the Straw Hats. Many of you have said as much.

.

.

.

well. We'll leave you one thing to muse over: when you show a deep and colorful tale to someone with a brain that has yet to fully develop, do they care about the depth or the colors? You will find before the end of this chapter that the answer is the key to everything going very, very good… and very, very bad…

Patient AN: Bad enough that, with blatant reference to the trope, The Fourth Wall Will Not Protect You. Seriously, Xom claims that he threw up in his mouth writing parts of this chapter.

Xomniac AN: No joke, my mind entered headspaces I wouldn't wish on my direst enemies… well, maybe one or two of my old professors…

"Next!" I called, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Three hours.

Three hours since Grove 77 was… anointed, for lack of a better word. And rather than deal something easy, like Marine infiltrators or some kind of legal challenge, I'd spent the entire time handling logistics. Medical care for a thousand and one ailments with a shortage of doctors and supplies. Fresh water was the biggest problem, as it was something none of the Ryugu troops had ever needed to consider. Thank heck the whole 'no blood-sharing' law meant they'd at least had enough stores of human blood ready to go. And then there was the housing…

Not all of the problems had been completely solved, but with Soundbite going Wiki-diving and some help from the pirate quartermasters passing through, the Ryugu troops and I had managed to at least start addressing them. And hopefully that would hold until permanent facilities could be constructed.

Just one more fire to put out left. Just. One. More. It was the mantra that had kept me sane. And as the last man—a ragged refugee this time—stepped forward, it was all that kept an (admittedly brittle) smile on my face.

"Welcome, good sir," Prince Fukaboshi greeted, bowing slightly. "How may we assist you?"

The refugee winced, and shuffled back and forth on his feet, rubbing at the still-wet bandages on his wrists where the shackles had held him. Even Soundbite kept silent, letting him find the words.

"B-Beggin' your pardon, sirs, but it's been a few hours, and quite a few of us, especially the younger ones, need to… y'know…" The man reached behind him and mimed wiping his ass.

I groaned and transitioned to massaging my face. "Ugggh… if this sounds stupid then blame the stress-migraine, and said migraine is not your fault so don't worry, but… can't they just do it in the sea?"

"Cross, we have thousands of people here," Fukaboshi chided. "With how slow the inter-grove current is in the archipelago, it's going to foul up fast." He sighed. "And unfortunately, I'm not going to be much help here. Fishman Island has a permanent system involving sand filters and adapted plankton, and that's not something you set up quickly. Or above sea-level, for that matter."

I didn't respond, on account of being a bit busy trying to keep my stomach settled at the thought of the sewage of thousands accumulating in the span of a few minutes. Oh, hell, if we didn't clean this mess up fast, literally—! "Soundbite…?" I prompted, hopefully keeping the gurgle out of my voice.

"Dig down to THE PEAT LAYER—guh, right, tree roots, make that… ten, fiftee—? Yeah, fifteen—dig down fifteen feet AND THEN BURY IT," the snail answered. "WE'LL HAVE TO keep digging holes, AND WE NEED ABOUT ALL THE CHAMBER POTS WE CAN GET OUR HANDS ON, but it'll do UNTIL WE GET SOMETHING more permanent."

The smile on Fukaboshi's face was distinctly predatory. "Excellent. Commander Neleus will be happy to have his troops do something when they're off-duty." He schooled his features and gave a nod to the refugee. "I'll set my men to work on the first pit right now."

The refugee nodded back, before freezing and turning shifty again. "Ehhh… see, the thing is, some of the young ones might not've been able to wait and…"

Fukaboshi's brows made a beeline for the back of his head, while I stood, smile more brittle than ever. Reaching out, I clapped a hand on the merman's shoulder.

"Well, it seems you've got things under control, Prince," I declared 'confidently.' "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go check up on the crews. 'Kaythanksbye."

"YOU CAN DO THAT RIGHT HERE!" Fukaboshi yelled at my now rapidly retreating—well, kinda rapid, damn leg was asleep—back.

"Sorry—krsch! Bad conne—krsch! —all back later!"

"YOU ARE LITERALLY THE LAST PERSON THAT APPLIES TO, GET BACK HERE—!"

-o-

"—aaaand he's gone…" Fukaboshi groaned, a good ten seconds away from slamming his trident over his head. "Oceans protect me, I didn't think it was possible but he really is even more annoying in person. Now, how in the hell do I deal with this before someone gets—?"

"Use it to start a garden."

Fukaboshi damn near leapt out of his bubble tube at the sudden and bizarre interjection. "WHA—!? P-Princess Nefertari?" he exclaimed, both at the fellow royal's sudden appearance and her suggestion. "What are you—?"

"Suggesting a productive use for the… waste situation," Vivi replied. "While it won't ever smell nice, properly handled, that much excrement could be used as fertilizer to kickstart a garden, a rather sizeable one. From there, you can start planting edible crops. A refugee camp this size will almost certainly run into food shortages at some point, so having an organic food supply will be an invaluable resource."

The stunned merman took a second to process that before both nodding and grimacing in agreement. "A… necessary arrangement. Thank you, Princess." One eyebrow rose up. "Though you're… surprisingly knowledgeable about this."

"In case you missed it, I'm one of the most selfless royals in this generation, and the heir to a kingdom that just got off a multi-year civil war," Vivi blithely replied. "Did you really think I wouldn't know everything, and I mean absolutely everything, about setting up a refugee camp?"

"And you haven't been helping?!" Fukaboshi demanded.

"Oh, I have, I have! Rest assured, I've corrected any mistakes you two have made while your orders were en route," Vivi replied, before smirking cheekily. "I just wanted to see you and Cross squuuuirm for a bit is all. Cross because he's an ass, and you…" She shrugged, the cheeky smile not moving a millimeter. "Well, you're the new royal on the block, and I just know everyone else would give me hell if I didn't haze you a bit on your first day on the political stage. Nothing personal, kaaaay?"

Fukaboshi opened his mouth and raised a finger, then closed it and lowered it, before finally rubbing the back of his head.

"It's sad that I can't argue with that…"

"Yes, yes it is." Still smiling that damn smile, she patted her larger counterpart on the shoulder. "And now that you've acknowledged that fact, we can get things underway properly, alright?"

"…no more hazing?" he warily asked.

"Weeeeell, Prince Geovana has a fraternity paddle he is inordinately attached to, but otherwise, yes. Now then!" Princess Nefertari Vivi clapped her hands and donned a massive grin that would have been more appropriate on her captain. "Allow me to start this off with one word you're going to hate yourself for missing: delegation!"

"…MOTHERFU!"

-o-

"Did you hear something?" I asked my oddly silent partner. Which, in itself was worrying. "I mean, I know you can hear everything, but did you hear something just now—ugh, you know what I mean!"

"NNNNNOPE!" Soundbite whistled, looking straight ahead with a biiiig shit-eating grin and an insultingly Southern accent. "NOT. A. THAAAANG."

"…for the sake of my sanity, I choose to accept that."

"And yet, you still choose to ignore any forms of common sense. Quite the double standard you have going, isn't it?"

"Eh?" I blinked in surprise as Robin suddenly glided up beside me, giving me a teasing look. "The heck are you talking about?"

"Allow me to answer your question with a question: Is it wrong of me to think that there was ever a chance of you not compromising your good faith with someone to whom you showed total respect only a few hours ago, Cross?" Robin politely hid a chuckle behind her fist. "Over a rather harmless matter, of course, but still."

Now, see, that comment got a flat look from me. "To this, my dearest of friends, I respond with a question of my own: how long have you known me?"

Robin took a moment to consider that before shrugging. "Point." She then smiled again. "Well, now that my part in this is done, I'm going to go find the local library. With such a crossroads of cultures and people, I can only imagine the diversity of the books they must have available. Care to join me?"

I honestly considered the options this time, buuut, well…

I shrugged my shoulders with a despairing sigh. "I'd love nothing more, Robin, truly I would, but I'm the main communications hub for us here. Either I do my job, or everyone dissolves into… well…"

"An absolute cavalcade of fuck-ups?" Soundbite 'delicately' suggested.

"In so many words, yeah. But hey, do keep me posted if you find anything interesting, alright?"

"Yes, yes, I shall put together as entertaining a blooper reel of history's best and worst moments as I can manage," Robin hummed as she walked off, waving goodbye over her shoulder. "Just promise you won't cause too much damage while I'm not around to watch, will you?"

"I promise nothing!" I swore, drawing a fresh round of chuckles from the both of us.

The exchange having brightened my mood, it was with a chipper smile that I had Soundbite call the Supernovas, one by one. Surprisingly (or not, given the specific subjects in question), some had decided to call it a day with the game of whack-a-slaver and go ride a rollercoaster.

"After all, a man of the cloth such as myself should limit the earthly riches one collects!" Urouge grandiosely declared.

"Apapapa! That's not what you said when we were looking for that one guy's treasure stash! Hey, Luffy, remind me, what did he say?"

"Uh… something like 'Bitch better have my money'?"

Urouge's smile abruptly became somewhat… strained. "Y-Yes, well, a man of the cloth still needs to eat, and coasters aren't cheap… OH LOOK, LUFFY! THEY'RE SELLING LAMB SHANKS OVER THERE!"

"GIMME!"

"Oh dear, looks like Straw Hat is causing a scene, have to run, bye!"

"Suuuubtle."

"LAST THING I WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU, IVORY-TEETH!"

Most of them, naturally, were still hunting slavers, flushing the last ones out of their hidey-holes and fleecing them for whatever they were worth… which, given the quality of said hidey-holes for them to have lasted them this long, was not inconsiderable.

"We're still watching the coasts," Bege reported. "You would not believe what we've been able to loot from the holds. And the ships themselves are going to fetch a pretty penny, too, once we get the bloodstains out."

"I never thought I'd see another bottle of ice peach wine again," Hawkins sighed contentedly. Perhaps a bit too contentedly.

"Hawkins, you're drooling."

"Am not!"

And some of them were just… doing other things.

"'M hungry," was all Bonney said. That's not all I heard, though. I'm never going to be able to look at barbecued ribs the same way ever again. The slurping… and licking… I swear, it's like I can still—oh son of a—!

"Knock it off, that'll be haunting my nightmares as it is," I snapped, chopping Soundbite's shell for good measure.

"BUT WHAT IS LIFE WITH ME, if not a neverending NIGHTMARE FOR YOU?" Soundbite asked with honest-to-goodness, fracking wide-eyed innocence.

"I… don't know where to start with that…" I slowly admitted.

"Heeeeeey, Cross!"

"Hello, convenient change of subject!" I blurted out, before blinking and actually noticing who had called out to me.

I looked up to find Keimi, in a bubble ring, frantically air-paddling herself forward. Most of her forward progress, though, came from Hachi, wearing his canon disguise and pushing Keimi along. Pappug sat on her shoulder, and those two brought up the sullen rear. Surprisingly, besides covering up their own tattoos, they hadn't disguised themselves nearly as much as Hachi. Pretty much just high-collar shirts that covered their gills. Of course, Hachi also wasn't covering up his mouth, so they could probably get away with not covering up their more fishy parts.

"Hey Hachi, Keimi, Pappug! What's up?" Curiously, that didn't provoke any reaction from the other two fishmen. Well, except to very obviously not look my way. Eeeee-xcellent… aaand I am never thinking that again, came way too close to tenting my fingers. "By the way, is there lettuce in my teeth or something?"

Blinking, the Takoyaki 8 trio slowly came to a stop, gracing me with befuddled expressions.

"No…" Keimi drew out. "Why—?"

"Don't tell me I have a smudge of dirt on my nose."

"No. Cross, what are you—?"

"Ah!" I decided, slapping a fist into my palm. "Of course! They're so blinded by my radiance that—yow!"

"OKAY, THERE'S RIGHTFUL GLOATING AND THEN THERE'S BEING A SORE WINNER, and this is coming from me. LOSE THE attitude, NARCISSUS," Soundbite said, letting my ear loose from his jaws.

"Okay, okay," I groused, rubbing my ear. "Spoilsport. Sorry, but seriously, where were we?"

For a moment, the Takoyaki trio were silent, and then some silent understanding to ignore that brief exchange passed between them. "I wanted to go see the amusement park! It's always been a dream of mine," Keimi said.

"A dream of pretty much every fishman and mermaid out there," Hachi added, grinning like a loon. "But we wanted to be sure it was safe, so we were going to come find you and ask if it was clear."

Part of me thought that this was a terrible idea. A good house majority, even. I mean, come on, that was where Keimi had been snatched in canon, after all, and all the hidden passageways, tunnels, blind corners and hidey-holes the Supernovas had uncovered when they'd hit the place—read, Luffy had pestered Apoo and Urouge into swinging by—commanded a sick sort of respect for how thorough the kidnapping gangs had been in taking the place over without actually taking it over.

…still, a resounding 'Buuut…' echoed through my mind. On the other hand, Apoo, Urouge, and Luffy had swung by. And from what I'd heard, some idiot hadn't been near a snail in a few hours, and as such, thought it would be a good idea to pull a snatch-and-grab in broad daylight. By this point, whoever had been operating out of there recently had probably long since skedaddled or had their asses kicked. Also probably even odds that half the rides were on fire, now that I think about it…

Only one way to find out! "Soundbite, connect me to Apoo again, please."

"ROGER ROGER."

Three rings later, Apoo picked up. "Y'ello?"

"Hey, Apoo, quick question. You guys finish cleaning up the amusement park yet?. And, er…" I winced and nervously scratched my cheek. "Left it standing in the process?""

"Apapapapa! We sure did! Luffy went on all the rides. He was great at flushing those assholes out, seeing as people don't really recognize him without the hat." The long-arm's gaze suddenly sharpened. "Really loved the way realization hit them like a crowbar."

I blinked. That was quite a bit of venom for the usually easygoing Apoo. "SSSounds like you don't like them?"

"That's an understatement. They were sullying the ultimate scam with kidnapping! You just don't do that!"

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh, do elaborate," I replied, bemused… and honestly a bit morbidly curious.

"Have you seen the price of a cola here, Cross? The smalls alone are obscene! I love it!"

Well, I hadn't, but I had been to Cedar Point. Top Thrill Dragster, best rush I'd ever had before coming here to One Piece. And, well, some aspects of life have proved to be pretty universal between our two worlds, sooo…

"I understand completely," I swore with complete sincerity. "Anyway, that's all I needed to hear. Just calling because we have some VIPs…" I shot a scathing glance to the side. "And their plus ones…" Aaand back to chipper. "That I'd rather stay unfucked with. The VIPs, not the plus ones—"

"WE GET IT, YOU DON'T LIKE US!"

"—And we will be addressing that later, preferably after I've had some more time to forget the unyielding rage I feel whenever I look at you two," I snapped, meeting the pairs' incensed glares head-on. "Could be in a few hours, could be at the heat-death of the universe, I don't care. But anyway…" I refocused on Soundbite and Apoo. "If you could look out for Keimi and Co. while they enjoy the rides I'd really appreciate it, thanks!"

"No problem. Apoo out! KA-LICK!"

"You're good!" I said, grinning and giving a thumbs-up. I steadfastly ignored the sound of a crashing wave behind me, and the sudden urge to wink. And the electric guit—"I will chuck you into the fucking sea, do not test me on this, snail."

"No worries, immediate regret when your teeth started twinkling, NEVER AGAIN!" my partner swore, shivering.

"Er, but anyway," I said, pointedly ignoring the weird looks Keimi and company were giving me. "Yeah, park should be safe enough. Still try and be careful, but otherwise? Go on, have fun, and make history!"

"Oh, Cross, no need to worry about that!" Keimi laughed, suddenly lunging forward and wrapping her arms around my neck. "I'm already the first mermaid to swim around on Sabaody without fear, and I witnessed the Liberation of Grove 77!"

I blinked in surprise. "Is that what they're calling it—?"

"They will when I get back down to the Mermaid Cafe and tell everyone about this!" Keimi squee'd, squeezing her arms to the point of damn near suffocating me. "The point is, I don't need to make history because thanks to you, I've already lived it! So in case it hasn't already been said enough, thank you thank you thank you!"

Aaaaand then she capped it off with a kiss to my cheek.

A cute—dare I say, hot—mermaid had just kissed my cheek. So. Yeah. That happened.

"Hm? Cross, are you—oh no!" Keimi gasped, reeling back from me. "Guys, we need to get Cross to a doctor, he must be running a fever!"

"Guh," I breathed, before waving my hands to try and stop her. "No, nono, no need for that, I'm perfectly—!"

"But Cross! Your face!" Keimi protested, with completely genuine concern at that. "It's so—!"

"Okay-have-fun-at-the-Park-buy-me-a-foam-finger-BYE!" I laughed semi-hysterically, bodily shoving her floating form into Hachi's arms and then shoving Hachi away at full force, capping it off with a hidden snarl at the octopus. "Get her out of here!"

"Ahhhheheheh, leeet's get going, Keimi!" Hachi chuckled nervously as he popped off at a hasty clip. "Places to be, rides to ride, anarchists to not piss off—!"

"But Haaaachi! He's soooo red! Shouldn't we—Pappug, aren't you coming?"

In spite of myself, I turned back to find the starfish designer conspicuously apart from his fellow employees and shaking his head and arm in denial and farewell, respectively.

"Sorry, Keimi. I'll try to catch up with you later, but I've got some business to take care of with Captain Dugong. Why…" He struck a pose so the sunlight glinted off his glasses. "I'd say it could even rival some of Cross's plans. Why, perhaps even this plan!"

"…do we ask, or do we not?" I posed to my partner, conspicuously tilting my head his way.

"Depends," Soundbite replied back just as 'subtly'. "You got ANYTHING BETTER TO DO?"

I took a moment to 'think it over' before shrugging indifferently. "Yeah, now that I think about it, I suppose I do."

"Probably for the best. WE BOTH KNOW IT'D JUST BE SOMETHING INANE ANYWAY."

"So true, so true," I concurred, turning around and wandering away in as casual a manner as I could manage.

"JERKS! YOU'RE BOTH A PAIR OF JERKS!"

"And proooooud of it!" we sang back in concert.

I wandered aimlessly for a bit until I was out of our aquatic compatriots' lines of sight before snapping a sidelong glare at my partner in shell. "Breathe a word of what happened earlier and you'll make an intimate contribution to our food supplies."

Soundbite made to respond, wearing an expression that just guaranteed a renewal of my chronic urges to throttle him, but before he could…

"So, that's all that it takes to stop the mighty Jeremiah Cross in his tracks, is it? One kiss on the cheek? Pathetic."

The voice that I heard tickled my mind, just on the edge of familiarity, and it was a very wary Voice of Anarchy that turned around.

The figure that met my eyes was… distinct. I mean, you don't usually meet a man wearing a gas mask over his face with glinting orange lenses, straps taut against a bald chromedome, and a strap-laden jumpsuit that seemed to be made of skintight leather that… was actually pretty conservative, for its kind of attire.

And it was precisely because of this distinct attire that, even though I'd never met this man before—!

"You're thinking I look very familiar, don't you?"

I started at the staticky, scratchy voice that came out of the man's mask as if from an old-school radio, both because the voice surprised me, and because that line made things click in my head and holy shit, seriously!? "And if I do, and if I suspect I might know your name as well?" I asked slowly.

"Then I'd advise you to not say a word," the man growled with his crackling voice, raising his finger in front of the mask's filter. "My presence here is highly classified. So if you tell anyone, I'll be coming for you. And if you even think about it—"

"PSYCHIC, RIGHT, we get it," Soundbite audibly gulped. Guess even he could be cowed now and again.

The masked man tilted his head at us before raising his hands and cracking his knuckles. It… actually wasn't that threatening, it just seemed to be a habit for him. "Indeed. My clairvoyance is utterly unmatched… though some things yet elude me… tell me." He shifted his head back upright with an audible CRACK. "What are these 'video games' that dwell so deep in your psyche… and what relation do they have with me?"

That chilled me damn well, I can tell you, and played no small part in my decision to end this conversation right fast. Though with my usual snark, of course. As such, I snapped one hand to my brow and held out my other towards the man's face. "And with my own gift, I'm seeing, I'm seeing…" I grinned and snapped my fingers. "You want a picture and an autograph!"

That stiffened him up but good… with even more crackling from his bones, seriously just how stiff was this guy!? "What, how—? Wait, so are you actually—?"

I chuckled and waved my hand dismissively. "Nah, it's just that it's… been that kind of day. Anyway, your third eye tell you to bring a Dial or what?"

A staticky scoff was accompanied by a Vision Dial dug out from somewhere behind his back. "Less third eye, more common sense. Now let's make this fast, I'm doing this for a friend. Personally, I find you annoying."

"Oh, how my heart bleeds," I chuckled sardonically, sidling up alongside the man and flashing a quick peace sign at the camera before taking the swiftly developed photo and signing it. "Well, there you have it. Hope your friend likes it!"

"I'm confident," he answered dryly as he turned away and shuffled off, leather and bones creaking all the way. "That he will find it to be most… amusing, yes. And who knows…"

He turned his head my way with a final CRACK!, the light on his mask shifting in just such a way that I could glimpse a damn maddened eye beneath the orange lens.

"Maybe you'll come to appreciate the humor of all this in time, too. Heheheheeeeh…"

And with that… lovely little tidbit, he wandered off and was soon swallowed up by the crowd, though his demented laugh hung around for a good bit longer, and not via any help from Soundbite.

Speaking of which… "…Soundbite?"

"ANY MORE METAL GEAR TRESPASSERS, YOU'LL BE THE FIRST TO KNOW," the snail shrilly assured me.

"Same with any other expies in general, please," I groused, massaging my face in an effort to relieve the tension. "With any luck, the Rule of Three means that'll be the last, but I wasn't kidding when I said it's been one of those days."

"We need thirty CCs of HUMOR INJECTED INTO THIS SHITSHOW, stat!" Soundbite proclaimed.

"Hey, Cross!"

"I WAS FUCKING KIDDING!" Soundbite yelped as Conis approached.

The angel paused, blinking. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something? I can try asking someone else."

"Ah, no, no, it's perfectly fine," I hastily replied, waving off her concerns. "You just came at a strange time is all. What's up, Conis?"

"Well, it's just that something a bit strange has come up that I wanted to check with you," she explained. "Keeping track of the whole crew has been kind of tricky even with Soundbite's help, but I thought that I had everyone nailed down. Except…" The angel scratched her head sheepishly before continuing. "…a report just came in of someone on our crew who took down a Marine Captain in Grove 66. Which would be…"

I blinked in surprise as I finished her thought. "Where the Marine Base is, as in where nobody on the crew should be?"

"You see why I'm confused, and before you ask I've already ruled out Zoro getting lost, thanks to Su volunteering to act as his personal compass, or the Dugongs getting into trouble because I just passed Boss training their shells off them," Conis said. "So, either I've missed someone—"

"NIX, I count a full house, INCLUDING ALL OF OUR ACES AND JOKERS."

"—or we have an impostor running around that we may have to deal with."

"…huh," I muttered, cradling my chin in thought. "That's not right, the imposters don't show up until after the T.S."

"DON QUOI?" Soundbite sputtered, an action which Conis mirrored.

"And even then, a Marine Captain would be too much for them, much less a Base, so who—?" I froze as the facts all lined up and hit me with a clue-by-four. "Ooooh." I looked back to Conis. "Can you remember any other pertinent details about that attack?"

"Uh, let me see," Conis said, taking out a notepad. One that was actually quite full, impressive.

"From what I heard, it was a surprise attack against a Captain who was part of the reinforcements that were on their way to the base. Didn't get his name, but a turban and veil are a pretty distinctive look. Our alleged crewmate used a surprise attack and almost literally tore him a new one with a cutlass. But like I said, I've ruled out our swordsmen already."

I chuckled a bit at my suspicions getting confirmed. "And how exactly was this person identified as a Straw Hat?"

Conis shrugged. "Oh, she was wearing a tricolor patch that had our Jolly Roger on it…" She paused as she mulled that sentence over, and then slapped a hand to her face. "Which… none of our crewmates would ever wear because we don't advertise our allegiance frivolously and I should have realized in the first place, damn it…"

"Eh, don't beat yourself up too hard," I said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "Sometimes we miss the most obvious things right in front of us. And it's not like this is really that serious. Don't worry, I'll take care of this, you just go back to keeping everyone safe, alright?"

That earned me a look of surprise. "So… wait, you know who that was? Was it someone important, or—?"

"Mmm… naaah, not really important," I snickered to myself. "Just a wayward Cabin Girl is all."

-o-

"Puru puru puru puru! Puru puru—KA-LICK!"

"Hey, Pisces—"

"Hel-lo, dear boy. You've reached the Bad, Bad Bathhouse. This is Kanji speaking, what can I do for you tonight?"

"…" the Transponder Snail that had just been answered froze in place, its face a mask of befuddlement.

"Uh… Ophiucus?" Tashigi piped up a moment later, shoving her snickering subordinate aside. "You alright there?"

"N-Nothing… just, nostalgia," one of the infamous Voices of Anarchy coughed a second later.

"If you say 'I am thou, thou art I'… though, I GUESS I COULD GO FOR BEING IZANAGI…" the other Voice muttered.

"…Aaaaanyway," Tashigi drew out. "Did you call me for a reason, or—?"

"Ah, right, right," Cross nodded, before his expression sobered up, which prompted Tashigi to stand up a little straighter. "You see, Pisces, it's the darndest thing. We here on Grove 77 just heard tell of one of our crewmates cutting down a Marine Captain when none of our crew were anywhere close to where he was. Think you can fill in a blank or two?"

The Marine Lieutenant coughed into her fist, suddenly unwilling to meet the snail's accusatory gaze. "And if I could fill in those blanks?"

The snail's expression fell dead flat. "…Pisces, as the Warden of the Masons, it is my duty to point out that that was a stupid stunt you pulled, one which ran the risk of providing the Marines with the thread needed to unravel us, all with little to no payoff to show for it."

The nonplussed Navy officer gave no response as she resecured her uniform, the re-removed pirate outfit crammed in a rucksack that would be tossed into the chain pit before the day was out suddenly feeling like it was loaded down with cannonballs.

That weight suddenly vanished, however, when Cross re-donned his typical vindictive smirk; surprisingly, a smirk that wasn't directed at her (for once). "…but as your friend? I'm honorbound to check and make sure that you gave him one from me."

"Hmph," Tashigi chuckled weakly, wiping away the sheen of cold sweat that had sprung up on her brow. "Honestly, this was just the cherry on top for the justice I've carried out today. Really, I know that didn't do much, with the state I left him in he'll be back on his feet in a week or two, but damn did it feel good." She gave her onlooking companion a wry grin as well. "Also, it helps that Popora futzed with his head a little bit so that he'll be waking up in a cold sweat for months over this."

"Pffhahahahaha! Alright, alright, enough! I'm supposed to be righteously mad at you, remember!? I can only approve so much!" Cross chortled eagerly. "Just make sure you get permission next time you wear our flag, neh? Honestly, with how much you're masquerading as one of us, maybe we should just go ahead and make it offi—?"

"Goodbye, Cross," Tashigi bit out as politely as she could manage, forcefully hanging up her snail.

-o-

Cross had already achieved his endgame, but though the pirates had ravaged much of the archipelago, much more still remained. For those who were still out for blood, beris, or prisoners with potential, plenty of slave houses remained to pillage.

Though that number was rapidly shrinking as mixed Supernova groups went after them one-by-one. With the sanctuary established and any chance of retaliation gone, most of the crews had lept right back into the fray.

Meanwhile, the assorted criminals made new acquaintances.

"It's not surprising that a Warlord of the Seas doesn't really respect the World Government, or that her family shares in that contempt," Drake mused, looking over the latest batch of tenderized kidnappers, before giving her a wry glance. "But disguises aside, don't you think that this is pushing your luck?"

"You wanna talk about pushing your luck?" Sandersonia hissed back, shooting the pirate captain a sidelong glare from under the hood of the cloak she was using to conceal her identity. "Try the fact that I'm sssssticking with a clossssset pervert like you."

Drake snarled at Sandersonia—both figuratively with his tone, and literally with his suddenly all-canine jaws. "I am not a pervert! My Zoan side is just reacting to yours! I am innocent!"

"Ssssso you sssssay," Sandersonia sneered, pointedly hissing her tongue out at him.

Drake's pupils elongated into slits and a deep rumble built in his chest—

THWACK! "YIPE!"

—before Sandersonia's tail caught him clean across his muzzle, the 'rookie' pirate cursing vehemently and rubbing the abused spot. "You did that one on purpose, you skank!"

"You mispronounced 'snake'… aaaaand maybe," the Kuja snickered to herself as she slithered down the street, Drake jogging to catch up. "In my defense, you make it a tad too easy."

"Yeah, well—!" Before his reply was halfway out of his mouth, both Drake and Sandersonia's jaws snapped shut, their demeanors sobering at a by-now scarce sound on the archipelago: the sound of rattling chains.

Drake jabbed two fingers down a nearby alley, and Sandersonia gave him a terse nod before shooting into the dark. Meanwhile, the captain accelerated his pace and rushed down the street, honing in on the tell-tale jangling scraping at his eardrums.

Finally, he rounded a corner and put on a full ton of muscle from one step to the next, loosing an ear-splitting roar that froze the gun-toting guards and their chained captives in place. That, and the fact that their route was suddenly blocked off by a snake-woman of sizeable proportions letting out a snarling hiss all her own.

Their prey halted, Drake's glare zeroed in on the hefty man at the front. "Drop the keys and run, fat boy," he rumbled out. "I'm feeling generous."

"Or don't and give me a reason, because I'm not," Sandersonia snapped, emphasizing her words with a firm, wall-shattering lash of her tail.

The fat trader stammered and snapped his gaze back and forth between the menacing reptiles.

SLAM!

And jumped as the serpentine one slammed one of his men into unconsciousness, hissing in a clear show of impatience.

"Th-This isn't what it looks like!" the rotund idiot stammered. "This is j-j-just for appearances' s-sake, they're bound for Grove 77! C-Come on, think about it! Not all of us civilians are a-a-as puissant as you pirates are! Were they not still in chains, then we would all be at risk of being preyed upon! T-The slavers have become desperate, you know!"

"Indeed, desperate enough to dare something so foolish as move their stock in broad daylight," Sonia scoffed. "You'd be intimately familiar with that sort of cowardice, wouldn't you?"

"I-I don't—!"

"Also, funny thing," Drake mused offhandedly to himself, shrinking down to his demi-form so that he could trail a claw over his axe. "Because the bridge from the 10s to the 70s is to the west of here. But this road heads south…" He loosed a rumbling growl over a cascade of sparks. "Toward the single-digit groves."

The Idiot could do nothing but sputter with absolute fear until all resistance left his limbs, dropping him on his ass. The pirates took this as their signal that he was quite done, and so started to advance on the group—

"YOU WERE TAKING ME TO THE AUCTION HOUSE!?"

Whereupon an indignant screech stopped the pirate pair in their tracks, and drew their attention to the lead slave in the procession: a blue-haired girl with a golden headpiece. She wore a rather revealing top, with nothing covering her stomach, giving her the appearance of an exotic dancer.

However, what currently impressed the Supernova and his begrudging companion was the sheer variety of curse words said dancer was spitting into the round jackass's rapidly paling face.

"…I haven't heard some of these since the last time a Germa fleet passed through the North Blue," Drake muttered.

"If I wasn't sure about just how much Soundbite knew, I'd think he'd got about half his vocabulary from her," Sonia grunted in return. However, as the dancer's invective started to grow more bloodthirsty and her hands inched toward the slaver's throat, she bit out a sharp curse and slithered up the girl's side and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, hey, enough! Look, as much as we all want this bastard's blood, we need his keys first so we can skip digging through the fat folds of his corpse. Just step back, and let us… perssssssssuade him." The last sentence was pointedly hissed in the trader's direction.

The sound of grinding teeth drifted out from the woman's jaws, and for a moment it looked like she was going to argue with the reptile-woman ten times her size before she reluctantly stepped back. "…fine, fine. I'll just… graaah, damn it damn it damn it…"

With that handled, the Zoan turned back to the trembling slaver, sloooooooowwwly spreading a grin over her face as she drew herself up to her fullest height. "Nowwww… let's sssssseeeee abou—" She was cut off by something bouncing off her torso with a clink of metal on metal.

"THERE'S THE KEYS, THERE'S THE KEYS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THERE'S THE KEYS! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU DAMN MONSTERS! YOU'VE ALREADY TAKEN EVERYTHING ELSE FROM ME, JUST LET ME HAVE MY LIFE!" the slaver screamed as he scampered away. Or tried to, at any rate, before Drake slammed his axe down a scant inch from his nose and coughed quite loudly to punctuate his point. Said point doing a very good job of freezing the quivering, pathetic lump in place.

Sandersonia blinked, and then promptly shrank (relatively speaking) back to her human form with an aggravated sigh. "Well, that was simple. Hey, dancer girl!" The Kuja offhandedly tossed her the keys. "Uncuff the others, and we'll lead you to Grove 77. Juuuust give me a second."

Before the very confused dancer could respond, Sandersonia turned to the whimpering slaver.

"…please don't hurt me too badly," he whined through his tears.

Sandersonia quickly plastered on a cheerful smile. "Sure!"

The slaver's eyes widened. "Truly!?"

The Kuja's expression plummeted back into an abyss of pure murder. "No."

That's when the screaming started.

When those present recounted the incident later, many swore they heard a strangely joyous ode. They would then go on to recount a strange disembodied voice laughing its ass off out of the blue for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

Meanwhile, the dancer had finished unshackling the last of her fellow slaves and Drake—not particularly eager to interfere with his compatriot's 'fun'—took it upon himself to address them all. "In case it wasn't clear or you haven't heard, you're all free to go and the Sabaody slave market is officially closed for business. If you think you can get home safely, then get going. If you're in need of help, the new embassy in Grove 77 will offer help to anyone in need. Just take the bridge—" He pointed westward. "In that direction. If you have any questions—" And that was as far as he got, with the freed captives bolting for freedom as soon as they saw the chance.

By now long used to this reaction, Drake turned back to watch the ensuing beatdown—

"Excuse me?"

—only to pause when someone, for the first time that day, actually did ask a question. And not just any someone, but the dancer from before, standing right where she'd been and giving Drake a cool look.

"When you said that Sabaody was 'closed for business', does that mean all the slave shops?" she asked. "Even the high-class 'employment offices' in the 70s groves?"

Drake cocked his brow at the woman's atypically blasé attitude. "The… last I heard, they were one and all on fire."

That's when the woman really threw Drake for a loop, snapping her fingers and scowling in honest disappointment of all things. "Damn it, this day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it," she muttered, kneading her brow in annoyance. "Now what am I supposed to do…"

SQUELCH! With a final grotesque sound, Sandersonia tore her attention away from the erstwhile slaver with an incredulous expression.

"Why is it, exactly, that you sound disappointed that we just saved you from being sold into a life of chains?" she hissed in indignation. The woman rocked back, unnerved, but answered with reasonable calm.

"Don't get me wrong, I am grateful that you two saved me, and the idea of being enslaved sounds about as appealing to me as it does to any other sane person!" the dancer assured them, and the pirates could tell she was sincere about that, too. "It's just that from what you're telling me, the way this island is changing means that my own reasons for coming here are rapidly becoming null and void."

The pirates exchanged dubious looks, and Drake took it upon himself to ask what they were both thinking: "Could you possibly explain what you mean, miss…?"

"Pascia, my name is Pascia," the woman sighed wearily. "And what I mean is that I came to Sabaody looking to make a decent amount of money in a relatively short amount of time through… morally dubious means, but most certainly not by compromising my freedom! Or, well…" She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. "Not forever, anyway…"

While Sandersonia's confusion was only deepened, Drake's expression lightened with realization. "You're talking about indentured servitude, aren't you?"

"What-tured servitude?" the Kuja parroted.

"Indentured," Pascia elaborated. "I sign a contract with someone giving them a specified number of years of my labor and freedom, and then the man sells the contract to someone who needs a worker."

"Wait," Sandersonia hissed. "You mean you were planning to sell yourself into slavery? And don't give me any bull about contracts and shit, it's the same damn thing!"

"Not in the North Blue it isn't," Drake cut in, looking a bit nostalgic. "It's not exactly a widespread practice, nor strictly legal, either, but it exists. The contracts are honored, money exchanges hands—"

"And usually, it's handled alongside the more traditional slave trade, yes," Pascia sighed wearily. "For the record, my heart does go out to those unlawfully in chains like that, but I have my own mountain of woes to consider, so you'll have to forgive me if my well of sympathy runs a bit dry. I thought there would be more lucrative opportunities on an archipelago as… renowned as Sabaody, but…" She grimaced awkwardly. "I'll admit that I underestimated just how badly that swine was willing to compromise good business in favor of an immediate payday."

"The collar on your neck wasn't a good enough clue?" Sandersonia dryly remarked.

Pascia was admirably unfazed as she flatly gestured to her less-than-modest attire. "I wasn't exactly offering the most sophisticated of services, you know! And sue me, I was desperate! I needed as much money as possible as soon as possible! I still do, in fact!"

That struck a definite chord in Sandersonia, and as her long-faded scars throbbed and she considered what could possibly drive someone to such extremes, her previously terse demeanor slowly faded in favor of sympathy. "Family?" she solemnly intoned.

Pascia's strength drained out of her in turn and she nodded morosely, crossing her arms. "A royal household. One I've served proudly for years now, that's been able to hold their heads high the entire time… until recently." She snapped her head to the side with a venom-filled tsk. "Damn the Germa straight to hell. They demand tributes they have no rights to, absolutely none… and if we can't meet them, then they take it. In blood if need be."

The dancer's expression became one of determination, and she looked at the pirates with fire in her eyes. "The lord of the house took me in off the streets of the South Blue when I was just a girl, and he helped raise me into the woman I am today. Hell, I helped raise half of his kids in turn! Most of them are like family to me! So if it took my freedom to help preserve their life and pride?" She firmly slapped a hand to her chest. "Then yes, I would have gladly given it all up, so long as they actually got the damn money!"

Her bravado quickly died down, and she slumped in defeat. "But now… if even that option is closed, then I came here for nothing… And that would mean that my household is…"

"Well, now, I wouldn't say that…"

Pascia looked up in confusion at the 'idle' thought that Sandersonia had uttered, the Kuja innocently tapping a finger to her chin.

"I mean," she opined. "If you're fine with being morally dubious, I think there are still plenty of options left for you." So saying, Sandersonia turned her gaze on Drake and flashed him a toothy grin, fangs and all. Drake flinched, but remained defiant.

"I would not be caught dead with a concubine on my crew," he growled.

Not a second after that observation was made, Drake had to snap a hand up and catch a chop from Pascia on his wrist. Said chop was barely an inch from his neck, and the woman was now affixing him with a deadpan stare.

"In case I didn't get my point across, X Drake," she coolly informed him. "I was the only babysitter a gaggle of noble children had growing up. No turnover, and for a damn good reason."

For a moment, Drake impassively regarded her before casually flicking her hand away. "Rough, by Grand Line standards. Perhaps some room for improvement, but if that's all…"

At that, Pascia's face actually lit up. "I advertised my dancing skills because that's what sells, but my lord primarily had me double-checking his books and records. I was quite good at it, too!"

Drake didn't even hesitate before turning around and waving her to follow. "You'll have six hours to run a full inventory on the Liberal Hind once we reach it. If there's even one crate or beri out of place, go find yourself another ship."

The dancer clapped her hands with an honest-to-God squee as she beamed at the reptile-man's back. "I'll have it done in three, captain! That'll leave us plenty of time to work out my wage and for me to go out and acquire a less…" She looked down at herself and grimaced. "Uh… specialized wardrobe."

As the newly christened quartermaster—er, quartermistress trailed behind him, the following Kuja leaned in and raised a rather important question.

"You do know that he's a closet pervert, right?"

Drake stumbled and let out an incredulous squawk before spinning around. "For the last time, I am not—!"

"Yeah, I know, seen worse," Pascia replied, casually waving off Sandersonia.

Drake froze for a solid second or two before belting out a surprised "WHAT!?"

Sandersonia was right there with him, though her response was far more restrained by way of merely raising an eyebrow. "Huh. Pegged him that quickly?"

"Again, babysitter for noble children. I've seen my fair share of closet perverts." Pascia made a show of buffing her nails. "At least this one's just your typical hair-trigger. Certainly better than some fossils with things for palms I could name."

Sandersonia jerked in surprise. "Pal—no, no, that way lies madness," the Kuja groused.

"Wise choice. Wish I had some of that Chopper fellow's Brain Bleach when I found that out," Pascia shuddered, before her mood brightened with earnest curiosity. "Oh, but I imagine that one as impressive-looking as yourself has some war stories she could share, hm?"

Sandersonia's double-wide mouth split into a massive grin. "Ooooh you have no idea! Let me tell you, I once met—well, I say met, he'd say robbed—a man with a whole collection of—!"

As the women continued to chatter behind his back, the Supernova, who had long since continued ahead of them with his shoulders raised defensively, slowly raised a palm to his face.

"I am regretting so many decisions I've made recently…" he groaned miserably

-o-

[You know, funny thing: I wouldn't have considered this even a pipe dream a mere few days ago,] Pappug mused as he jogged (or his version of it at least, more a fast waddle for anyone with two proper legs) through the tent town that had been erected across Grove 77. [I was a starfish with an eye for fashion, living with the retired Right Hand of the Pirate King and his wife.] He tapped an arm thoughtfully against his face. [Then along came the Straw Hat Pirates.]

The starfish chuckled as his destination came into view.

[There they are. Ahoy now!] Pappug called, waving one of his arms to the Great Kung-Fu Fleet. [Permission to come aboard please? I have a proposal I'd like to make!]

[Who's this?] a dugong called back down.

[Name's Pappug!] The starfish nodded his head in way of greeting. [I'm a local around here, got dragged with the Straw Hats… not that that makes me any different from anyone else around here, but anyway! Mind if I talk to Captain for a bit?]

[Come aboard, Pappug. We know who you are, you're welcome here,] the same dugong called back.

[Thanks!] Pappug waddled his away onto the deck of one of the barnacle-encrusted ships and took note of a few dugongs lying around with some of the most bored expressions he'd ever seen on a living creature. A few were listlessly punching the air in some sort of lazy attempt at training, while others where just straight-up asleep.

[…wow, are you guys this crestfallen at being cockblocked from the fighting?] Pappug deadpanned.

[You would be too if your captain took half the crew with him to go bust some heads and you had to stay here and guard the damn ships,] another voice grumbled. Pappug turned to see that said voice belonged to a disgruntled dugong wearing a bandanna and a bandolier who was viciously whittling away at a sharp-looking stake. [Damn lousy layabout Captain, offloading the boring jobs onto me… I mean, hey, I get it, someone needs to stay behind and provide protection, I respect that, best for the job and all that, but would it kill him to let us take shifts going out or something!?] The Dugong let out a snarl as he rammed the stake into the wood of the deck. [Well, it's sure going to when he gets back!]

Pappug gulped, inching back slightly. [Errr, if this is a bad time—?]

The dugong ground his teeth for a moment more before sighing and waving his flipper. [No no, it's fine. I'm annoyed and going to give him hell later, but that doesn't concern you.] He held his flipper out to the starfish. [I'm First Mate Dugong. What can I do ya for?]

Pappug shook the flipper and pumped. [Nice to meet you, First Mate. Allow me to get straight to the point: I've got an idea that rivals the demented plans that come out of Cross's head, and I was hoping to get your crew's input on it.]

The grip on Pappug's limb suddenly stiffened like the rest of First Mate, who has now staring at him with a mixture of anticipation and dread, and the starfish could equally sense the rest of the once-lazing amphibians around him snapping out of their ennui to watch him very intently. […should I be worried?] the dugong said slowly.

[I'm a starfish with an eye for fashion, not a raving madman,] Pappug assured him. [Although, I do admit that this is probably sticking a giant middle finger to the Government—]

[Oh, we're on board with that,] the dugong confirmed, immediately relaxing with a sigh of relief. [We'd just like to make it out with what remains of our sanity mostly intact.]

[A fair concern. But first…ah, First Mate—]

A round of chuckles rippled through his onlooking subordinates, and the dugong loosed a snarl and glared them all down. [THAT JOKE STOPPED BEING FUNNY A WEEK AFTER WE LEFT ALABASTA!] With the rest of the crew sufficiently cowed, First Mate turned back to Pappug. [Continue.]

[Er, right…] the starfish coughed before doing so. [So, to start: mind if I pose a question?]

The dugong raised an eyebrow. [Go ahead.]

Pappug cleared his throat (what little he had of one, anyway). [Us animals—or at least, most advanced animals, such as you or I—are all on par with humans in terms of intelligence. We can think, we can feel, and we can speak, much like they can, even if there is something of a language barrier most of the time,] Pappug declared. [So…why exactly are we considered lesser than them? Why do we not have our own culture? Why are we not as advanced as them, living without technology? Most pressing of all… why have we not formed our own state?]

There was a pause as the sheer audacity of the sea creature's words sunk in. First Mate's flipper slackened alongside his jaw, while his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

[You…You do know what you're implying, yes?] First Mate asked. [You're… what, suggesting that us animals form a sovereign state!? T-that's—!]

[Unnatural? We animals already have our own methods of governance; hell, you're a part of your own species's hierarchy! We seek groups, we seek leaders, and we seek survival! And if the humans' way of surviving works for them, why can't we adapt it to ourselves as well? But really… even more than nature... ] Pappug slammed one of his arms into the other. [We should, we need to do this, if only for the respect!

[I had to bust my ass to learn the human language to even be considered a sapient being, and not a pest or potential snack. Even then, fashion was cutthroat in its own route,] Pappug growled. [I've had to exploit humans underestimating me on multiple occasions. And even though it's served me well, I'm fucking sick of it.]

The dugong started in shock at the sheer vehemence Pappug had just displayed, as said starfish displayed an almost unbelievably fierce expression for the second time in recent memory.

[I realize some don't see the point of this. They just want to live away from human conflict and stay in their own homes. You don't mess with me, I don't mess with you. Typical law of nature, and up until now that's been fine.] Pappug took a deep breath and straightened up. [But that's not how it works anymore.

[The day that the World Government became an entity, humans achieved worldwide domination. There is nowhere we can run anymore, because now they are everywhere. And as such, anything humans do affects us too. We can't afford to ignore that anymore; Sabaody taught me that. Taught us all that. I mean, they evacuate all the humans from a Buster Call, but what about the animals on them, hm!? When has, or when will humans ever give a damn about things like that?! I'll tell you: when we all actually give a damn and make them!

[And when would be the best time to do that, you ask? I'll tell you when: now. Now, when the Government is reeling from another kick in the teeth, and when animal respect is at an all-time high! This is a once-in-a-lifetime—no, a once-in-history opportunity for us, a chance for us to change the whole world! And I, for one, refuse to let this chance slip away!]

[Okay.]

[Now, look, I know it sounds ludicrous and infeasi—wait what.] Pappug's speech suffered a metaphorical needle scratch, the starfish boggling in open surprise at the dugong. [I-I-you—! T-That quickly? B-But the risks, your protests—I had an entire speech planned for this, dammit!]

[Yeah, I could tell, and honestly you're gonna need it to convince the other races,] First Mate agreed. [But consider this…] The dugong slammed a flipper into his chestplate with an absolutely vicious smirk. [Just who the hell do you think we are?]

The fashion designer, blinked owlishly, struck dumb, both by the declaration and the raucous cheers of all the on-looking Dugongs. Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his head. [Yeeeaaah, should have expected that. You Kung Fu Dugongs are always up for a good fight. Thanks anyway, First Mate. It'll be a long while before this idea even starts to get underway, much less gets an inch of traction, but as is, I'm glad to know that when I start it up for real, I'll have one undeniable ally in my corner, giving my words the weight they need. Good day to you, and tell Captain to contact me as soon as he can so that we can talk more!]

With that, Pappug turned and waddled away back onto shore, First Mate snapping a salute in his wake.

At first, the starfish headed for the Cannibal, intent on talking with their dragon next. However, as he walked, Pappug's mind idled slightly on said dragon's rather sharp teeth, and brought to mind some… less than appealing interactions with certain species he'd had over the years, which kindled new doubts in his heart (well, it was actually a water vascular system, but 'heart' was less of a mouthful). Those doubts didn't last long, however, as he remembered that he could get an immediate answer to his questions while he walked.

[Hey, Soundbite,] Pappug spoke into the air. [I realize that this is a stupid question, but I'm assuming you heard all of that, right?]

There was a long moment where Pappug had the sneaking suspicion he'd just spoken to absolutely nothing, fully expecting someone not to answer back, when finally his concerns for his mental health were appeased by a staticky crackle.

Still, there was yet another long pause until finally…

[…you realize you're insane, right?] Soundbite's voice—his actual, real voice—asked, numb with shock. [Seriously, this is me asking that, that should tell you just how insane this all is!]

[But am I wrong is the question,] Pappug retorted.

[Pft, please, that was never in question. I was just questioning your sanity.]

[I've spent the last year listening to your human and the last two weeks in close proximity to your crew. How sane do you think I am?] Pappug retorted.

[…well, that's me told. Anyway, seeing as I doubt you wanted to speak to me about what the weather's like around here—bubbly, by the way—!]

[I'm speaking to you because I need your expertise as a land-based animal,] Pappug huffed. [Since I've spent the majority of my life underwater, that's where my social circles tend to swim. As such, I'm asking for your opinion on the matter: are all animals as intelligent as humans? As you or I or the dugongs, that is to say? I remember talking to a few literally incoherent dumbasses, and more than a few carnivores that have tried to chow down on me haven't had enough brain-cells needed to do basic math with, so…?]

Pappug trailed off, waiting for the snail's response, which came a few moments later.

[It… honestly varies a bit,] Soundbite answered, sounding honestly and sincerely contemplative for once in his admittedly short life. [Typically from species to species, really. For example, the dugongs are all sapient. They have to be, to achieve their skill. But on the other hand, we've also got species that… are as slow as humans assume they are.] The stupidity-induced cringe was audible.

[Like, most R-strategists like other bugs tend to choose INT as their dump stat. Sometimes you'll get a mantis that can hold a conversation, and usually bee queens are as sharp as they're sting-y, but most of the time, the swarm is smarter than any individual. And lemme tell ya, the swarm ain't that smart. And not just bugs either. This one time, we passed by a farm on an island we were staying on, and let me tell you, while pigs are reasonably intelligent, cows really don't have much to say and sheep are dumb as a box of rocks… though like hell I'm saying that where Merry can hear me.]

A sigh echoed over the airwaves.

[But yeah, that's the gist of it: some species are naturally smarter than others, and even among the brainless there can be 'prodigies.' That help any?]

[Yes, yes, more than enough…] the starfish sighed in relief. [Just wanted to make sure that whatever comes to pass, it's actually relevant and not reserved to a few odd flashes in the evolutionary pan, so to speak.]

[Ohoh, not a chance, my friend. The prodigies are rare indeed, but when we animals are smart, we stay smart for a loooong time. And if the smarties were to all get together in one place and start pooling that smartness… well. Humans have their cities. Go out there and start laying the foundation for ours.]

It was thanks to those parting words that Pappug bore a good and proud grin as he accelerated his pace, more than eager to reach his next destination.

-o-

Truthfully, I wouldn't have minded getting in on Soundbite's fun, whatever it was he was snickering at at the moment, but unfortunately that option wasn't quite open to me at the moment. Specifically, as Soundbite got back to paying attention to me, he finally noticed that I was busy talking through another Transponder Snail.

"—way you can just make a distraction and GTFO?" I hissed, gnawing furiously on my thumb.

"We're still in this building and calling you for help because for whatever reason, THIS is the one and only hellhole on this scumhole without a bolthole! Does that answer your question?!"

I sighed explosively. "Yeah, yeah, sue me for trying for the flawless streak… Hold tight and stall like hell, I'm on my way."

The other snail disconnected at once, and I spared a moment to stare at Soundbite. No matter how much I wanted to distance myself—and us in general—from this shitshow, it was best to be on hand just in case. Still, speaking of said shitshow we were in—!

"…Partner…" I huffed acridly, shooting a caustic glare at my suddenly sheepish snail. "I do realize that I'm asking a lot of you to keep so many reports on this island straight. But I could have sworn that I told you to make them priority one!"

Soundbite gulped, sweat coating his already slimy body as he undoubtedly caught himself up on the situation at hand, his expression rapidly becoming more horrified by the second. "My defense? A few too many escapees having PANIC ATTACKS THAT NEEDED IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENT COMBO'D WITH A MATTER OF… PERSONAL IMPORT."

I grumbled under my breath, weighing the priorities. Ultimately, I just shook my head in despair and accelerated my pace. "…fine. We'll handle this mess ourselves."

The way Soundbite suddenly looked stricken would have been pretty funny in literally any other circumstances. "YOU'D THINK BY NOW I'D BE USED TO your determination to get us both killed. WHY IN THE NAME OF DAVY JONES'S BARNACLE-SCARRED ASS DO YOU—meaning we—HAVE TO DO THIS BY YOUR/OURSELVES?"

"Because knowing our luck," I snarled, more to myself than to him, really. "Is there anyone else—on the crew or otherwise—that's discreet to not get us all killed and is not indisposed?"

"Uhhhh…" Soundbite hedged, sweating intensifying as he tried to find one. "VIVI'S BUSY WITH THE EMBASSY, and Sanji's still preserving that IMMACULATE soup kitchendangit, I TOLD THOSE BLUBBERHEADS TO KEEP ONE OF THEM close to the surface… couldn't trust USOPP to keep his cool up close…"

And so it went, each name ticked off tearing down a little more of my hope, too. But by the time I reached the place of significance, the only one who wasn't too busy or too far away to help was Robin, and while having her as backup was very reassuring, I still didn't fancy getting this close to the biggest risk on this island. Alas, however, it seems that starting a revolution on a massive island had led to things becoming a little… hectic.

"They found how many drug lords?!" I hissed incredulously, actually pausing my slow creeping through the shadows of an alley just a street away from my target to boggle at Soundbite.

"ALL OF THEM. THEY FOUND ALL OF THEM…" Soundbite moaned, rubbing between his eyestalks with one of his eyes in lieu of the nose he didn't have. "NAMI WAS RUNNING DOWN SOME SCUZBAGS WHO WERE BOLTING WITH A HEFTY AMOUNT OF GOLD, found the hidden cove all the dealers were gathering in as they prepared to bolt, AND THEN CALLED FOR REINFORCEMENTS WHEN THEY OPENED FIRE. A fantastic windfall, coming at the worst possible time. BOTTOM LINE, WE'RE ON OUR OWN."

"Or, well, as alone as you ever are when I'm around," Robin assured me, though she, too, sounded concerned. "But even then, my own involvement will have to be circumspect in nature, at best. After all…"

"Yeah, I know, I know…" I groused, leaning out to properly eyeball the location I'd closed in on: a slaveshop that several of our allies had successfully raided and ransacked…

And the knights wearing conical helmets standing guard outside said slaveshop.

"They're praying for an excuse at this point. If we touch so much as hair one on that bastard's head…" I snarled out under my breath. "Then the response will make the Buster Call they brought down on Enies Lobby look like a damned fireworks show in comparison." I shook my head and gestured at the building. "OK, I'm here. Now, I think I must have missed something, so could you explain how the fucking hell this happened in the first place!?"

"Time and priorities, Cross, I'm at the end of my rope!" a voice—Shuraiya's, from Kid's crew, I'm pretty sure—hissed out, sounding like he was deliberately lowering his voice.

"Yeah, fine, priority one: what in the holy hell am I sticking my neck into, huh?!"

"I-I can try and explain, Shuraiya, you just keep stalling!"

I blinked in surprise at the second voice that spoke up. "Bepo? Oh great, just what we need in this situation: someone unique and interesting. Alright, lay it on me, and make it quick."

"Not much to say really, for better or for worse this all happened fast. One second Shuraiya and I and a few mooks were doing what we've been doing all day, pounding the stuffing out of a slaver who managed to slip the dragnet…" The bear let out a rumbling moan of despair. "The next, one of our lookouts has just enough time to tell us that a World Noble showed up out of nowhere before getting shot in the head! And just our luck, he beelined straight for the store we were hitting, while we were still inside it!"

"And of ALL choices, you went for the BAVARIAN FIRE DRILL!?"

"I-I don't know what that is, we just panicked, okay?!"

"And to be clear," I pressed. "What, exactly, is the reason that your asses haven't been stuffed full of lead yet!?"

"W-Well, see, the thing is, we thought we could avoid him by hiding in the backroom, make it look like nobody was here, right?" Bepo quickly explained. "But he came in at the last minute, when Shuraiya and a few other guys were still in the front. And, well, one lie led to another and—!"

"Don't worry, your holiness, it won't be much longer now, I assure you!" Shuraiya's voice suddenly cut in, Soundbite's expression contorting into a tight and twitching smile. "The length of time it takes to bring out our stock is lengthy, true, but that's only because of the sheer number of countermeasures we have set up to ensure that our stock has no chance of escape, be it now or after your purchase! After all…" Shuraiya's expression tightened even further, looking like he was a second away from hurling. "Our top priority… is the satisfaction of all our patrons! Especially ones so… incomparable as yourself."

I slammed my palm against my face with a tortured groan. "Yeeeaaah, that would track, wouldn't it?" But just as fast, I shook my head and forced a tone of calm into my voice. "Alright, alright, let's all keep our heads, so that you all keep your heads. I might have an idea on how to get you out, but first I need to know: can you tell me which stuck-up self-proclaimed god is in there with—?"

KA-BLAM!

I snarled out a muffled curse and ducked as one of the store's windows was suddenly blown out. "—Charloss, got it! Because that's just what we needed right now! Sssonnuva—!" I took a second to downgrade my heartrate from 'jackhammer' to merely 'pounding' before I started speaking again. "Okay, so worst-case scenario. Makes things easier in some ways because his in-bred ass is as dumb as rocks, but harder because as you just saw, his trigger-finger might as well have chicken-pox. Not even mentioning the sheer casual collateral damage he—crap!" I hissed and shot a panicked look at Soundbite. "Tell me you've evacuated everyone around here, because if anyone catches his eye for any reason—!"

"WAS DOING THAT ANYWAY, my only hang-ups have been when these pricks went OUT OF MY RANGE," my partner assured me. "We're in a ghost town, THOUGH THERE WAS A DAMN NEAR MISS WITH THIS DOCTOR AND A NURSE WHO WOULDN'T TAKE A HINT."

"Guh…" I tugged at my collar as I contemplated that near miss. Okay, so it was just us out here. If we could just get him out of that damn store, then Shuraiya and Bepo and everyone else could de-ass from the place before he could get back. Oh, if only we had someone nearby who excelled at the art of pissing people off!

I slapped myself upside my own head as I realized, oh right, that's lucky me. Now, what's simple enough even a child could understand it and mean enough to piss him off? Or at least, garner his undivided attention!?

My face fell into a miserable grimace as I realized the perfect, if not only answer to this problem. I knew I was going to regret this, but it wasn't like I was spoiled for options, either. Even if I was going to have to gargle acid afterwards to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

As such, I rolled my fingers to signal for a Gastro-Amp, took a deep breath, and then shouted at the top of my lungs—

"HEY, LOOK! A MERMAID!"

The next minute or so was a bit of a blur. I was busy retching at the mental images that drew up; I felt more than saw or heard Charloss thunder out of the store like a pissed off walrus, only with twice the stink and half the direct lethality. Thankfully, I couldn't quite hear whatever the hell he was saying, and I didn't intend to stick around to hear it, either!

I kept my place until Soundbite signalled Shuraiya's group to act, which was started off by Shuraiya letting loose a—muted—battlecry and, from what I was hearing, diving over the counter at whoever Charloss had left behind in the store. And while they were all getting ready to bolt—no mean feat, seeing as it sounded like more than a few of the ex-slaves were in rough condition—I was skulking my way through the alleys, intent on getting the holy hell off this Grove. Because while you can damn well bet Soundbite's amp hadn't gone out anywhere near me, I was doubly sure that if there was one thing that would motivate Charloss to get off his ass and run around like a chicken with its head cut off, it was the prospect of getting his disgusting hands on a mermaid.

And it was all going so well, too. I was just in the middle of sliding my way around a corner, prepping to sprint across the street to the next block, I started to bolt—

"Ackpft!"

And on my first step, my first step, I tripped over something, though I had no time to think about what. But in the end, no matter the hows or whats of it, I could only deduce that B.R.O.B. was behind this, it just had to be. Because out of all the streets in all the groves in the entire archipelago, I managed to fall down in the exact one that dumped me right in front of Charloss fuck.

I'm honestly not even slightly ashamed to admit I froze up, caught between hoping Charloss recognized me and hoping he didn't. Between Charloss finding me interesting enough to spare, or not interesting enough to torment too badly. By the time Soundbite managed to get me out of my funk with a discreet chomp on my ear, the decision was out of my hands anyway.

I had had that amount of time to freeze up because Charloss was about as slow as he was indirectly dangerous; while his entourage of guards had their spears lowered, ready to impale me at a moment's notice, it took several seconds for the Noble himself to regard me with surprise, which slowly morphed into bratty indignation while I was regaining my bearings.

"Yooou damned brat!" he started to bluster. "I don't even have the words! The mere idea that a worthless worm such as yourself would dare to bar my path like this is…! Is… waaait… you…"

My blood froze in my veins as his eyes widened in recognition.

"I know that face of yours from somewhere… Ah! I remember now!" he exclaimed as the neurons finally fired. "You're Jeremiah Cross!"

-o-

"…exactly how are we supposed to feel about this?" Coby asked, swirling a mug of beer (he'd tried sake, but shot as his nerves were he still had limits) with a numb look in his eyes. "On the most basic level of humanity, I should feel happy about the fact that hundreds, thousands of people have been freed from a lifetime of torture and that the ones responsible will end up behind bars for the rest of their lives."

"But…" Tsuru quietly prompted, glancing up from the paperwork backlog she was currently working through. A load which, quite frankly, she was most likely going to miss in the days to come.

"…but the fact is that not only were we helpless to do anything except watch, but our own men actually tried their damndest to stop it," the young Marine finished with a tortured groan.

Tsuru allowed a slight scowl (though in reality, a sneer) to cross her face at that comment. "If it helps, that's one fact that I'll be quite thoroughly investigating myself." She then allowed herself an actual smile. "Provided, of course, that Lieutenant Commander Tashigi leaves me anything to investigate."

Coby nodded, then jerked and turned around with a confused expression. "Wait, Lieutenant Commander? I thought she was only a J.G.?"

"Hm? Oh, my bad, that's next week. Old age and all that," Tsuru hummed, chuckling to herself.

"Even so…" Helmeppo ground out. "We're still left with the fact that the mind behind this whole operation is practically within our grasp… and yet, I can't find it in myself to take any pleasure from this."

That got Tsuru looking up and cocking an eyebrow. "Bold words, Helmeppo, especially when I'm standing right here. A more dogmatic Marine would likely already have your head."

"Cut the riot act, Vice Admiral," the youth shot back, his uncharacteristically acidic demeanor shining harsh. "We all know the score: either Jeremiah Cross and his compatriots escape Sabaody alive, humiliating the Marines even further…"

Helmeppo returned his iron gaze to the vis-snail.

"…or the joy of hundreds of thousands turns to ash."

He clenched his hand into a fist.

"And any decent man knows which to hope for."

While Coby was nodding in solemn agreement with his comrade, Tsuru was blinking at him in surprise. And after she jotted down yet another tally in her mental 'Cross was right again' log, she schooled her expression into a look of dry contempt and jabbed her pen over her shoulder. "I believe that is an opinion that our good Fleet Admiral could stand to be informed of. Care to share it with him?"

There was only time for their eyes to widen in nascent panic before the office's snail, in a moment of perfect serendipity, started ringing. Helmeppo promptly screamed high enough to threaten glass, threw up his hands, and, in an impressive feat of athleticism, hurled himself in one bound clear across the room to the nearest window. He promptly bounced off of it. Hauling himself back up, the rookie Marine grabbed the window and tried to open it, but his shaking hands only succeeded in rattling the glass in its frame.

Blinking, Tsuru looked under her desk to find Coby curled up in a ball, shivering like a man in swim trunks in the snow. More rattling from the window caught her attention, and she looked up to find Helmeppo bashing his head against the window in an attempt to break it.

"Oh, cut that out," she snapped, idly checking the snail number and deciding it could wait until later. "You're of no use to anyone concussed." And when that failed to return them to sanity, she heaved an aggrieved sigh and rapped her knuckles on her desk, properly getting their attention. "And furthermore, while I wasn't kidding about how that is an opinion that someone should tell that old statue rotting down the hall, not only does it not have to be you, but his reaction wouldn't truly be that bad. It would be negative, yes, I'm sad to admit, but while Sengoku is many things, a mad dog he is not. Besides…" She relaxed in her seat with a sigh. "While he might be somewhat peeved at the circumstances regarding matters, he too views the… scouring of Sabaody as a net gain. As such, he's been in a better mood today than he has been all last month put together."

"Jeremiah Cross is WHERE!?"

Tsuru's expression fell flat as both the walls and rookies alike were suddenly shaken by an incredulous bellow. "Correction," she drawled. "He was in a better mood."

However, contrary to the listening Marines' expectations, the roof wasn't scheduled for another repair, as Sengoku's voice suddenly shushed back down to a less irate tone. "Grph, sunnova—I apologize, Commander Kong—"

That got the Marines looking up. A call from Kong usually meant either good news for the entire Navy, or that that the bovine excrement was about to impact the rotary impeller device at excessive velocity.

Under the current circumstances, none of the Marines present were willing to bet on the former. Tsuru's wrinkled hands tightened on her cane as she leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Cross being involved in a high-profile conflict was a downright mundane occurrence at this point, but getting a call from Kong like this…

"…You know what, why am I worried? Whatever he's doing now can't possibly be worse than the revolution he just led," Helmeppo said dismissively.

THWACK!

"OW! What was that for, Vice Admiral!?"

"Because, you wet-nosed brat—" Tsuru started.

"And you're sure you don't want me mobilizing my men?" Sengoku's voice drifted over to them, sounding oddly hesitant. "I mean, given Cross's… everything, I think we could describe his being within a half-mile radius of a World Noble to be an active threat, much less face-to-face."

The Marines all froze again, this time in horror, and the Vice Admiral levelled a downright acidic glare at Helmeppo's sweating head. "—it can always get worse," she all but spat.

She didn't have a chance to properly lambast the rookie, however, as Sengoku's tone suddenly blasted up to a far more… familiar volume. But for however loud and clear the bellow was, the three of them were almost convinced that they had misheard it. Because what they just heard was completely ridiculous.

"…Vice Admiral Tsuru," Helmeppo croaked, blood rapidly draining from his face. "Did he just say that Saint Charloss—meaning a World Noble—is a—!?"

"Yes, Petty Officer," Tsuru ground out, her tone low and dangerous on account of the migraine that had suddenly flared up. "I will say it once more: if there's one lesson everyone who sails this ocean learns, it's that things can always get worse."

The implications of Sengoku's scream left everyone in earshot dreading the SBS that would inevitably be coming soon. Tsuru, for her part, dialed the doctors on base. Whatever resentment she still held for the man, she had no interest in him suffering another heart attack, and the supplies he had on hand would not be adequate for this…

-o-

Of all the emotions to experience from meeting a World Noble, nostalgia would not have been one that I expected. Least of all nostalgia that took me back to my childhood.

One of my favorite movies when I was young was The Secret of NIMH. Even back then, I could tell it was dark-ish, but between the talking animals and the spectacle of the story, I was too enchanted to pay it any mind. The Land Before Time series was another favorite of mine, and it's only in retrospect that I realize that the plotline was sending a group of unsupervised children into life-threatening wastelands over and over again. Looking back on it now with the cognizance of an adult paints a different picture than the colors I saw back then.

Some of you are probably wondering what the point of all of this is. Well…

"Come on, this way, hurry up!"

I shuddered and accelerated my pace, doing my best to keep pace with Saint-freaking-Charloss, who was beaming the stupidest smile I'd ever seen even as he tugged an absolutely corpse-like man along by a chain and collar.

"It shouldn't be much longer till my servants find us a suitable hovel!" the helmeted sack of lard chortled, sounding and looking like he'd won a lottery. Presumably by murdering the winner and taking their ticket. "Then, you can regale me with all the latest stories, before anyone else! Saint Justinian will be jealous, I'll rub it in his ugly face all day, I can't wait!"

"Heheh, y-yeah, me neither…" I wheezed out, tugging at my collar while my eyes darted to and fro in search of an escape. An escape that the UN-holy knights and officers flanking us had made a point to cut off, hands clenched around their weapons and glares leveled firmly at my head, blatantly waiting for even the slightest of excuses.

To clarify for those of you who might still be wondering what in the Sam Hill is going on, it all goes back to my nostalgic musing earlier. The point I was working towards is that the stooge in front of me—the homicidal, intrinsically sociopathic stooge—had about as much intelligence and attention span as an average child, meaning that the message and point of the SBS had sailed clean over his head, leaving only entertainment from the show that I put on.

Yes. Entertainment. This utter lummox Saint Charloss, one of the untouchable World Nobles and quite literally one of the worst human beings I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting, was a fan of the SBS. A fan of me.

Every time I revisited that concept in my head, I was overcome with the overwhelming urge to vomit blood, and I think the fact that the concept, heinous as it was, was the only thing keeping me alive in this situation was the only reason I could hold back. And even then, only just.

I was brought out of my horrified musings by the sound of a clearing throat, and I looked up to see that one of the suit-wearing agents that Charloss had sent off had returned. Not the one that had gone off to try and find Roswald or Shalulia for alternate orders, mind you, that one had been grabbed, beaten within an inch of his life, and turned over to Koala the second he was a block away.

Thankfully Charloss hadn't pegged onto the fact that the reason he couldn't contact his family to inform him of his 'good fortune' was Soundbite's doing, but even so, we'd had to let his attendants call into Mariejois about his current… company, as cutting off those communications would be cutting it a bit close. Point is, things were tight as hell, and these suit-wearing jackasses were proving to be just as dangerous as Charloss, if not moreso. Case in point:

"My lord, I believe that the restaurant a building ahead will suffice for your needs," the drone droned, shifting his sunglasses as he turned a sidelong glare at me as though I were a particularly ugly insect. A sentiment I returned with gusto, I assure you. "However, if you'll forgive my impudence, but would it not be even more appropriate for you to return with all due haste to Mariejois, with your guest in tow. After all, the luxuries there are the only ones truly sufficient for one such as yourself, and I do believe that Jeremiah Cross has been asking for the chance to visit the holy city since the day the SBS began. To bestow such an honor on a mortal of his… standing would be unheard of, and he could let the whole world know of your untold generosity."

Charloss's dumb face immediately lit up with glee. "That's a good point! Just for that, I think I won't have you flayed for stepping ahead of me… this once."

So there I was, stuck with a potentially omnicidal idiot who, by the grace of the devil, didn't immediately want my hide, and his group of zealots who wanted me dead or worse with only their oblivious boss standing between me and whatever they could use to turn me into a chunky puddle.

I was terrified of Charloss's whims, sure; if he took the slightest issue with me, then there'd be nothing that I could do. But his guards? The fight going on between us was a war of words. I had never lost one of those yet and I didn't plan to start today.

And it was with those thoughts in mind that I grinned and nodded with eager glee, and damn did it do me good to see those zealots stiffen up. "Oh, yes, indeed, most holy one, that sounds like a truly excellent idea! I mean, it'd be a shame about the SBS, but—!"

"Wait, what!?" Charloss demanded, spinning around to give me a befuddled look while the agent sprouted a look of outright panic.

"Well, it's quite obvious, of course!" I elucidated patiently. "If I were to return to Mariejois with you, it goes without saying that I'd live the rest of my life in total luxury—" 'For all of the ten seconds I'd have left to live, anyway.' "—but it would also mean an end to my many journeys and exploits. And that, of course—"

"—would mean an end to the SBS YOU INCOMPETENT IDIOT!" Charloss snarled in outrage. Turning on his fat heels, he cracked his pistol across the agent's face, laying him out flat with a nasty-looking gash on his cheek, which I had an astounding lack of sympathy for at the moment. "You almost cost me one of my favorite pastimes! You're lucky I realized it before you could ruin it, you fool, otherwise I'd have you cleaning my fishtank!"

Judging by how the agents, knights and slaves all shuddered at the threat, I'm guessing that duty wouldn't involve the piranhas being removed first. But regrettably, both for myself and the agent, the suit-wearing man wasn't quite done yet.

"M-My apologies, your Holiness! J-Just the failed musings of a feeble, worthless mortal! A-Allow me the chance to redeem myself!" And with that, the agent pointed straight at… me? No, he was off-center, aiming at my shoulder oh that son of a—! "Even if removing Jeremiah Cross would halt the show, his pet is hardly quite so valuable. Merely a tool, a means to an end. Surely it would cost one such as yourself but a pittance to replace it with a far more glorious model, while you become the envy of all other fans of the show—er, more than they naturally envy your radiance, at least!"

Every word that came out of the bastard's mouth was enraging enough, but it was the genuinely thoughtful look that overcame Charloss's mug that chilled my blood.

"SAVE. ME," Soundbite hissed in a tone of mortal terror, eyes blown wide and teeth grit so hard I swear they'd crack.

"Well, of course I'd have no problem with giving you my pet—" I began casually.

"Cross I will eviscerate every eardrum here and kill us all right now so help me—!"

"But I don't really see why. I mean, why would you want my ventriloquist dummy?"

Everyone froze then. I smiled and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeaaaah, the whole Noise-Noise Fruit thing is just a gimmick I came up with to make my show more interesting, give me a wacky sidekick character and all that I could bounce back and forth with. All my crew's animals are me, really, need to keep the people entertained. I hope that doesn't stop you from enjoying my comedic stylings, though!"

"Ever hear the one about Jack the Ripper's vacation? IT'S A REAL KILLER!" Soundbite helpfully provided, though his vocal quality was a lot lower than it typically was and his words didn't sync up with his mouth.

"Muuufufufufun! Oh, that's good, that's good!" Charloss chortled, gleefully slapping his gut. And then, with startling abruptness, he snarled and whirled on the poor bastard who'd made the suggestion. "AND YOU!" BLAM! "ANY OTHER BRILLIANT IDEAS, YOU FECKLESS WORM!?"

As nauseating as it was to agree with Charloss under almost any circumstances, Soundbite and I felt no issue pinning the agent with our own murderous glares and daring him to try anything more as he squirmed on the ground, gripping the shredded brisket that had once been his left knee.

"M-My apologies, my lord! I-I was just trying to help make this experience as b-beneficial as possible for everyone involved! P-Please, forgive this worthless fool!" he choked out through obvious agony.

The most mind Charloss paid to his pleading was a roll of his eyes, though I guess that was better than paying it with another bullet. Of the remaining agents, one dragged the injured one away—either to get him medical treatment or finish him off, I wouldn't put either past them at this point—while another two lead the way to the restaurant indicated.

As far as tourist traps went, it was pretty high-class, a nice and well-aged mom-and-pop looking place that, under any other circumstances, I would have loved to enjoy a meal in. But given the current circumstances…

"Euuugh, this is the best you worms could come up with? I wouldn't keep my slaves in a sty like this!" Charloss snarled. "Remind me to have this hole burned to the ground once we're done here."

…yeah. At least there was the mercy of the restaurant's patrons and staff having long since evacuated so there was nobody else in the line of fire. A glance behind me as we finished filing in revealed the agents blatantly, and I mean blatantly locking the door behind them, keeping eye contact with me the whole way.

After not-so-subtly flipping them the bird, I followed Charloss to the table he deemed least repugnant, dead center of the room, and joined him. Immediately afterward, the knights and agents all circled around us, forming a near impenetrable circle of steel and suits.

"Go get us something to eat!" Charloss snapped at one of the guards. "And not whatever slop they sling here, something actually fit for good and decent people!"

Swear to God—present company not even considered—I almost throttled him for that, and from the slight smirk the agent was sporting, he could tell. "Right away, my lord, I'll fetch something immediately!"

Once the jagoff was off and away, I decided that I it was time to bite the bullet and plastered as convincing a grimace as I could on my face. "Sssooooo, your holiness… pardon my horrific presumptuousness for addressing you, but, ah… if it doesn't trouble you, might I ask how it is that one as high and mighty as yourself finds entertainment in my down-to-earth presentation?"

"Mufufun, oh, that's actually a funny story!" Charloss's second and third chins jiggled as he laughed, and I mentally prepped myself for something thoroughly scarring. "You see the first day I heard you, I was courting Saint Janeisha—" I mentally replaced the word 'courting' with 'bombing'. Yup, prior prepping right on the money. Eeeeurgh! "—when out of the blue your broadcast interrupted me! I kept listening in order to learn who you were and where you were, but then I found out just how entertaining your show was!"

He started chortling and pounding the table with the butt of his loaded gun, prompting all of us around him to uncomfortably lean out of the way of its muzzle. "Mufufufun! You're lucky you're so funny, you know; I would have had Aegis-0 go and bring back your head if you weren't!"

"Hehehehehe, yeah, lucky!" I chuckled hysterically. Just like that, I mentally slashed how much time I had left to live in half as I remembered that there was a non-zero chance that those bastards were already on their way to get me!

"I really don't get why so many others don't like you or the SBS. Always trying to send Aegis-0; it's annoying having to stop them every few days," he went on.

My hand jerked toward the nearest knife, fully intent on stabbing myself in the neck rather than live with the fact that I owed my life to this polished mass of primordial ooze.

"But then again, I suppose I'm lucky too!" he sighed and nodded to himself. "So far today has been such a horrible waste of time! First I can't find any slave shops open, and then when I finally learn about some place decent, not only does it gloriously fail to live up to expectations, but somebody calls out that there was a mermaid, but there wasn't one anywhere in sight! Meeting you made my day!"

I violently suppressed the shudders I felt at this bloated walrus carcass thanking me for jackshit… and was then immediately struck by something he said. Along with his stench, mind you. Ugh, and I thought a perfume department smelled bad, what did this guy do, bathe in colo—?!…oh. But back to the matter at hand.

"Lord Charloss, did you just say you… learned of the shop you were in?" I queried tersely, still warily eyeing that gun.

"Yes, one of my agents presented this flyer," Charloss drawled, gesturing to one of his aides, who laid a piece of paper on the table.

I didn't get much of an impression from the glimpse, but I saw enough that something seemed off about it. Wouldn't be sure if it was just the sheer wrongness of the subject matter or something more unless I could get a closer look, which I guaranteed by swiping the flyer when Charloss looked away… and daring the agents to try anything with a look of murder.

"But as you saw, it was a complete waste of time; as soon as I saw the state of the place, the attendant responsible received… uh, how does Father always put it…? Oh, right! A 'lead severance check.'"

"Of course he does…" I grit out under my breath.

"Now, however, you're here to regale me with your latest tales! It's the best news that I've had all day. So, what are you doing here this not-so-fine afternoon?"

I snapped upright, what was being asked of me and the implications therein hitting like a two-by-four. "Uhhh… nnnnothing you'd find interesting?" I hedged, praying that his single-digit IQ wouldn't see through my—

"Oh come now, Jeremiah Cross, surely one so… adventurous as yourself has performed at least one exploit today with which to regale our master," one of the armored knights sneered.

I took a second to communicate with my eyes just how severe a mistake that SOB had just made, but then I refocused on the matter at hand. Because given the gleeful look Charloss was giving me—Lord have mercy I'm gonna hurl…—unless I could come up with a proper line of BS to distract him with I was as good as… as…

I slowly stilled as an idea came to me. Granted, it was a fairly terrible idea that all but guaranteed a hell of a lot of suffering in some shape or form. Buuuut at this point, what, apart from my head, did I have to lose? As such…

"Now," I casually drawled, leaning back in my seat. "Why would I want to do that?"

Everyone froze again, and I immediately launched into an explanation, the better to stop Charloss's twitching trigger finger. "Saint Charloss, what could I possibly tell you that would be more interesting than meeting you in person and talking with you one on one like this? And do keep in mind that nothing I've experienced up until today has ever been quite this… memorable."

Charloss's face screwed up in thought. And stayed screwed up. And then he started turning red and his trigger finger was twitching again fuck!

"GWA-WHAAAAT I MEANT TO SAY!" I blurted before hastily toning down my volume. "W-What I meant to say, y-your most holiest of divinities… is that I have an idea that could… that could render your name immortal and unforgettable, even by the standards of the almighty World Nobles! I-If I may be so bold as to share it with you…?"

For what felt like an eternity, Charloss fell silent again, though thankfully, the fact that he was itching one of his chins with his gun put less pressure on me. No such luck for his onlookers, though, as those behind him were frantically shaking their heads, and collectively they looked like they were about to piss themselves.

And when Charloss finally smiled, I put on my first honest smile in hours.

The looks of sheer despair on his entourage when I told him my idea? Icing on the cake.

-o-

When Cross alerted the Straw Hats to the situation, most of the crew had concluded their previous business and so could drop everything to encircle the grove he and Charloss were in. One of the very few who had not had remained in Grove 77, continuing to put her unique skill set to use, much to her consternation.

"Princess Vivi. A word."

Vivi couldn't suppress a surprised jerk at the question, despite the concerned frown Fukaboshi, slightly disheveled, was wearing when she turned around.

"What happened in the last fifteen minutes that has you so tense? And why have I not heard about it yet?"

Vivi pressed her lips together in frustration, weighing the pros and cons of lying. Truth won out, and she sighed wearily.

"Cross is currently in the company of one of the World Nobles, one that's stupid enough to be a fan of the SBS. Most of the crew is already there and ready to rush in at a moment's notice. It just… this is personal for me, and I want to join them, but I know that I'm needed more here."

She waited, not meeting Fukaboshi's eyes. The wait stretched stretched onward, interminably. After a minute, Vivi looked up, and sweatdropped at the expression Fukaboshi had adopted. What did Cross call it… a BSOD?

"Ah… Your Highness?"

With a full-body twitch, the merman snapped out of his daze and fixed Vivi with a heavily judging stare. "And you didn't think to tell me this a little bit earlier why?"

The last of Vivi's calm evaporated. A scowl slid onto her face, which, combined with the air in her tent swirling ominously around her, did an excellent job of cooling the Prince's ire. "Because, Your Highness," she grit out. "My friend is in mortal peril and I am all of one frayed nerve away from coming down on that smug bubble-wearing prick like the hammer of almighty Ra, consequences be damned, so I thought it would be in all of our best interests for at least one of the heads of this operation to keep a clear mind. Is that a problem?"

Beads of nervous sweat rolled down Fukaboshi's face, the obvious and appropriate reaction when faced with a pissed-off Logia user. Despite that, he pulled himself together and nodded in agreement. "When you put it like that, Princess Vivi, I concede to your judgement, and I apologize for snapping at you. You have my sympathies for the stress you're no doubt under, and my thoughts go out to Cross as well, though I don't doubt he'll pull through somehow."

Vivi blinked at the blatant non-reaction. "Ooookay, I've managed to get my own crewmates to come to heel with that look, how the hell—?"

"I've been facing down Sea Kings that come sniffing around the palace for… ah, reasons, with some frequency over the last eight years," the larger blue-haired royal answered. "Compared to a battleship-sized mass of muscle and teeth, that wasn't far off from 'adorable'."

Vivi deflated, slumping over with an audible whoosh of air. "Well, that's my confidence punctured…"

"And your worries forgotten?"

Vivi paused, brow scrunched in though. She immediately perked up, and reached up to tuck her hair back into place. "You know what? I think they are. Thanks a lot, Fukaboshi, I really needed—!"

"Don don don don!"

The nobles' attention snapped to the nearest snail, and they exchanged wary looks.

"This is either going to be very good or very bad," Vivi droned. "There is… literally no in-between with him in these situations."

Fukaboshi sighed and nodded as he reached for the snail. "Signal my guards to prep the fire-fighting equipment, please…"

And it was as Vivi moved to do just that that the merman picked up the snail's mic. Tthe gastropod immediately started blaring an orchestral tune; it came through as a grand piece of music, better than they were expecting given the circumstances, but for reasons that neither royal could understand, it left an odd feeling in their guts.

Without warning, the snail's face twisted into an expression that sent a shock of disgust and dread through watchers worldwide. "Mmmm, I like this!" came a nasally voice that screamed 'spoiled manchild'.

Vivi's head spun around so fast her neck literally had to twist into wind to allow it, her face a mask of horror. "I know that voice," she wheezed, eyes wide and pupils wildly dilated. "I don't know who that is, but I know that voice!"

"Yeees, I thought you might," Cross's own voice responded, his expression tight and bearing a visibly fake smile. "After all, the entity from my home that uses this song is referred to exclusively with the adjectives 'great' and 'mighty'."

"I don't know why, but for some reason I get the feeling that Cross is hiding some form of insult behind those compliments…" Fukaboshi mused.

"Because the person he's talking to isn't worthy of compliments," Vivi snarled, her breathing rapidly accelerating as nervous fragments of her form splintering off into wind. "Not worthy of mercy, or kindness, not worthy of the decency they dare deny—!"

"Princess?"

Later, Fukaboshi would swear that he saw something snap behind the Nefertari Princess's eyes; an assertion reinforced by Vivi lunging at him and shaking him by his shoulders in total panic. "We need to shut down every snail on this Grove and we need to do it now! We can't let anyone here hear this, not a one!"

"W-What? Why?!"

It took a matter of seconds for Vivi to explain, and half that time for Fukaboshi to call every Ryugu soldier into action.

-o-

"Who is this idiot and how badly is Cross going to destroy his life?" Leo wondered, smirking nastily.

"Haven't you been paying attention? You heard all of this from Soundbite earlier. Have you been borrowing Mikey's headband again? I told you how it affects your—!"

"FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME, I AM NOT A DUGONG!" the dwarf snapped. Sadly, for the third time that month, his needle lashed out at a cackling Bian just after his window to sew her lips shut… well, shut, courtesy of her zipping out of the way on her wings.

"But that's enough prelude, let's get to the show," Cross continued, ignorant of the Tontatta hero's hijinks. "Welcome, everyone, back to the SBS."

"…Uh-oh," the Tontattas muttered, all prior amusement and annoyance gone.

"Oh! That was my chance! Damn it, I was too slow… do it again!" the snotty voice demanded.

"Tch! Yeah, right!" Leo snorted, waving his needle dismissively. "As if Cross would ever—!"

"Doubt that's the only thing you're slow on, you pompous—!" Cross muttered under his breath before plastering that fake smile on his face again. "Of course, your holiness! Whatever you say!"

The dwarfs all gaped at their… 'borrowed' Transponder Snail in naked shock.

"Cross is… kowtowing to that jerk?" Wicca boggled. "But the only time he's actually shown anyone respect, it was because he said they were worthy of respect, and this guy's really rude! It doesn't make sense, right Chi—Chief Gancho!?"

The dwarf's shock rippled through the rest of her tribe as they all saw Chief Gancho swaying precariously on his feet, his staff the only thing keeping him upright. "W-What… what did Cross just say?" he wheezed. "What did he just call that man!?"

Before anyone could answer, Cross himself interrupted, still speaking in his ludicrously fake cheer. "Alright, take two: Hey there, I'm Jeremiah Cross, and welcome to—!"

"—THE BEGINNING OF THE SBS!" the snotty voice roared. "BROUGHT TO YOU WORTHLESS WORMS BY ME, SAINT CHARLOSS! MUFUFUFUN! I DID IT, I ACTUALLY GOT TO DO IT! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"

If the Tontatta hadn't been frozen before, that put ice in their veins. "D-Did he just say—?!" Kabu gurgled.

SLAM!

The tribe jumped as one when the snail's mic was abruptly slammed home, shutting the Gastropod up but good.

"GET ALL THE CHILDREN INSIDE, NOW!" Leo roared, prompting the parents present to usher their children away in spite of their ignorant innocence. Once they were safely locked away in their homes, Leo addressed his superior. "Chief… should we keep listening? I mean, that's a… he's a… this is going to be—!"

"A nightmare, I know. But nevertheless we must," the Chief grimly stated. "Jeremiah Cross made his stance on those tyrants clear from day one; that he is doing this now means that either he has no choice in the matter, in which case we must give him our support…"

Gancho's expression turned dark. "Or… and this is not mutually exclusive…he has a plan. And if that's the case, this is going to be indescribably satisfying. If equally nauseating."

Leo weighed the implications and nodded firmly, hoping for the latter case. Reaching over, he unhooked the snail and tuned back in.

"Now, just one thing to remember before we begin properly, everyone," Cross picked back up, his old verve clear in his tone, if undercut with a taste of acid. "While our guest speaker Saint Charloss may be a fan, he hasn't caught all of what I've been saying, and a good number of things are beneath his notice. So just to be on the safe side, I'd like to make sure everyone in the world bears this in mind: please treat Saint Charloss with all the respect that we at the SBS know that he and all others like him so rightly deserve."

Even after almost a year of Cross's snark, the Tontatta were still hopelessly naïve at identifying a lie. But they had learned to appreciate double meanings. And that was all that was needed; a World Noble, if not all the World Nobles, was about to be nobly screwed.

This thought lightened their hearts something fierce, but did nothing to lighten the grim atmosphere that hung over the village.

-o-

"Does anyone know how bad this will be for us?"

"He said he was interviewing Charloss, yes? Roswald's son?"

"Yes, why? You know him?"

"Of him. He's well-known. Most recently, I believe he had one of his servants get in a fistfight with Saint Janusil's butler on account of Janusil refusing to give Charloss a maid he found attractive. About five minutes into it, Charloss got bored and crippled all three of the servants involved when he tried and failed to shoot them in their heads. And then he billed Janusil for the bullets, the cleaning of the blood from his suit, which he then had burned, and wasting his precious time."

"…charming."

"Nevertheless, he's still Roswald's son. With any luck, he's had some iota of common sense crammed through his skull."

"Now then, your lordshipness, how should we start this interview… oh, I know! Most divine one, so many have heard of the splendors of Mariejois, seat of—swear to Chaos I'm gonna hurl—the most… divine individuals on the planet, but so little is truly known! If it wouldn't be too much of a bother…?"

"Not at all, not at all! I'm all too eager to let the world bask in our radiance! Every aspect of the capital of the world is truly a testament to the glorious might of the World Government our ancestors so generously created! Why, even our walkways, the travelators, are marvels of engineering! Imagine it, if you can: floors… that move!"

"That sounds… incredible!" Cross admitted, sounding honestly surprised and impressed. Well, until a tinge of suspicion entered his expression. "Shot in the dark, but would you know how they work?"

"Ah, unfortunately yes, I found out one grim day when I found a path to be unbearably slow. Made me a whole minute late to an appointment, so I had to discipline the workers. You see—!"

THWACK!

"GAH! Alright, I asked for that…" the mustachioed Elder grumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"No, you think?" the kimono-wearer grumbled as he polished the fresh blemish off his sheath.

-o-

"—my valuable time riding past row after row after groaning row of slaves to reach the responsible turnstile, and—"

Less than five minutes had elapsed since the broadcast began, and Saint Charloss's words were already having tremendous effects worldwide.

While the actual reactions would be days, even weeks in the making, the foundations for those reactions were being set in stone by the… 'man', let's go with 'man's' words. Cross had said from day one that the immaculate surface of the Government obscured abhorrent ugliness right below, and in the first five minutes of this interview, this 'man' proved that it was true in a literal sense. The resulting emotions for most of the world were predictable:

Disgust. Horror. Fear. And above all else, good faith dying on a global scale. While no revolutions were outright triggered by the speech, hearts and minds were set, and people began to prepare for whenever and however the next Darkest Day might come about.

But in the midst of all these grim tidings and horrified disillusionment, the most important aspect of all, that cannot be forgotten, at any cost, are the tears being shed.

And while many an individual was weeping, be it out of sympathy, horror, or even relief for the evils finally being exposed, one man's tears surpassed all others in importance.

For you see, for the first time since his infancy, the Warlord Donquixote Doflamingo, infamously renowned as the Heavenly Yaksha… was crying.

In this moment in history, he was perhaps the only sapient being alive who could be said to be in hysterics.

Or, well…

"FUFFUFFUFFUFFUFFU! FUUUUFFUFFUFFUFFUUU~!"

One specific kind of hysterics, at any rate.

-o-

"—and as a result, that walkway was the fastest in all of Mariejois for a straight week! Well, until they all died from exhaustion." The snail gave the usual 'shrugging' motion. "Mortals, what can you do."

"…My utmost apologies, my lord, I find now that I haven't properly prepared myself for the words you say; they're beyond anything I've ever heard before," Cross dragged out, his expression thoroughly wooden. "I beg your pardon, can I take a few moments to ready myself?"

"Mmmm…" Charloss tilted his head to the side, a half-smirk from the flattery on his face. "Fine, just hurry up."

The sound of Cross calmly leaving came over the connection, followed by a short walk and the opening of a door.

"For the record," Cross snarled, honest anger seeping into his tone for the first time. "The fat bastard actually expects me to walk back in there, so don't try and be clever, got it?" The only response he got was an aggravated grumble, and Cross nodded and started to turn away before glancing back with a cocked brow. "Actually, while I have you, might as well ask: How in the hell do you bastards keep straight faces around him 24/7 and not shoot him in his ugly mug?"

A muted grumble came over the connection, as though debating whether or not to answer…

"Can you see my face beneath this helmet?" he asked. "Whether we're fanatics or not, guards are meant to be unseen and unheard until they're needed. Besides, you of all people should know that humans can adapt to most anything. That story isn't even in the top ten this week. If we're not dead or irrevocably insane by our third week on the job, we're usually set."

"…lovely," Cross drawled. "Well, if you'll excuse me…"

Then the sound of a door closing came across and the Voices of Anarchy proceeded to empty their guts. Soundbite didn't even bother censoring the noise; it was downright pretty compared to the bile that had come out of Charloss's mouth. After a full minute or so of vomiting, Cross was left panting and heaving.

"One Q&A… just the FIRST topic brought me to this point. And I doubt that I'm the only one," Cross groaned miserably, the raw tone of his voice likely having nothing to do with the gastric hell he'd just undergone. "Logically, I should just walk away, right now, because I'm not stupid enough to willingly walk into another torture session with a self-proclaimed god who could and most likely will shoot me on a whim. Surely, I've done enough for this revolution already."

For another several seconds, Cross's expression changed form many times as he visibly debated himself. Then he raised his eyes, glaring bloody murder through snails across the world, but aimed at one person.

"Monkey. D. Dragon."

Much of the world held its breath as Cross directly called out his only clear superior in revolution.

"Just putting this out there, but you are going to be so deep in debt to me for doing this that you won't have a chance of repaying me before Merry has liver spots."

Baltigo's command center was motionless as Dragon eyed the screen. Then, after a moment, he glanced down at the nearest snail, who immediately began concentrating.

"Dot do—KA-LICK!"

"I acknowledge it, Jeremiah Cross," Dragon intoned.

There was a brief pause as Cross blinked in honest surprise at his snail before grimacing. "…well, that's my bluff called… fuuuuck, and I really hoped I could just blow out the wall and run for it, too. Eurgh, whatever, I'm already in the shit, let's dig deeper." There was a resounding clap and the slam of a door being kicked open. "Okay, bring me back to the spawn of evil. Round two!"

-o-

With an almighty CLACK, the kimono-clad Elder Star snapped his katana back into its sheath.

"That," he intoned grimly. "Is the final straw. Jeremiah Cross now has, if not outright authority, at least significant enough influence over the entire Revolutionary Army to force them to take action if he chooses to exercise it. We cannot afford to wait any longer; it is time that we put an end to this farce once and for all."

The others graced him with a skeptical mien, and he folded his arms and scowled in surly defiance.

"Our resources are not ideal to wage the war, true. But the number of ways that things could become any worse for us at this point is inconsequential." He stabbed a bony finger at the snail in the room. "If we allow the Straw Hats any more momentum, the odds will never be in our favor. Better to play a less than ideal hand than outright guarantee our downfall."

"Tch, perhaps you're right," the youngest said, scratching at his goatee. "The Straw Hats have won thus far by putting their all on the line and gambling everything at once. If we have to do the same to stamp them out… then so be it."

"Alea iacta est," the tallest sighed despondently.

A sentiment to which the mustache-wearer only snorted in disgust. "As though things weren't already set in stone from the moment that whelp opened his mouth…"

The hat-wearer had nothing to add, and instead settled for halting their snail's broadcast so he could dial a number they were far more familiar with. "Commander-in-Chief Kong. Muster all six Warlords, and send notice to the Typhon Laboratories that we require an update on the status of all projects."

"I've been bracing myself for this for months… by your command, sirs. I should have a report in—wait…" Kong trailed off, his mind catching up with his orders. "Wait, did you just say six—?" He then clamped his jaws shut just as fast. "Ah, right away, sirs, Kong over and out."

Once the Commander-in-Chief hung up, the Elder dialled another number, who they were all certain would be… less cordial. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku, we are initiating our contingency plan. Gather your forces for war."

"Huh?" the snail blinked at the Elder in shock, before bulging irately. "ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?!"

"Fleet Admiral," the youngest elder cut in sternly. "You forget yourself. Know that we do not decide on this lightly, but that recent events have forced our hand. At this rate, if we wait until we can secure absolute victory, Fire Fist will perish of natural causes first, and any windows of opportunity we may have will close. You cannot deny this."

"…No, I can't," Sengoku ground out, his long-familiar grimace in place.

"Then you have your orders. Inform Admiral Kuzan; we will deal with Borsalino and Sakazuki."

"I… yes, sirs. Acknowledged. KA-LICK!"

Another dial, and scowls adorned all five faces as the snail adopted an aggravatingly lackadaisical countenance.

"Yeees?"

"Depart for Sabaody Archipelago immediately, and stand by upon arrival. In absence of any further orders, you will mobilize against the Straw Hat Pirates as soon as they attack one of the World Nobles. You know what needs to be done."

"…Uhh… how do you guys know—?"

"Because it's the Straw Hats, and Jeremiah Cross is giving one of them a live interview. Leave now."

"Alright, alright, I'm going. KA-LICK!"

A fourth dial, and the snail put on a scowl that, for once, they welcomed properly.

"Yes?" Akainu said, his tone clearly conveying that his tone would only remain civil if the callers were the Elder Stars.

"We are assigning you new orders, Admiral. Assemble your forces and report to Mariejois, immediately. You will receive your briefing upon arrival."

"…Understood, sirs. We'll be there in four days, if the weather cooperates. KA-LICK!"

A final dial, and the snail became rather smug, composed… and overall toxic to the core.

"Yeeeees?"

"Initiate Operation Ascalon," the mustached Elder intoned.

"Right away, sirs," the snail chuckled, before grinning cheekily. "Though, while I have you, would you mind if I took a little something-something with me for the trip? Just a light contingency, you understand."

"So long as it is short of a Buster Call fleet, we could care less provided you succeed in your mission," the tall one declared.

The snail briefly looked thoughtful before shrugging. "Eh, I suppose it's just shy, from what I've been hearing. Very well, I'll be off. Shouldn't take me longer than a week. Toodles~!"

Once the snail hung up, the Elder Stars sat in uncomfortable silence until the cane-holder glanced around. "So, shall we tune back in to Cross? We might as well see how deep a hole we've to climb out of."

Thankfully for four of their blood pressures, the snail rang first, and when they picked it up, it adopted a stern expression.

"Sentomaru reporting, my lords," the snail reported in a formal voice. "The Typhon Laboratories report that all projects are proceeding at a decent pace and will be ready for deployment within the month. However, they also say that the subjects are quite volatile at the moment, and that they could accelerate the timetable if they could acquire data from some field-testing."

The Elders' immediate response was a round of negative grumbling.

"Remind the inmates that under no circumstances are the subjects to enter the public eye without our approval!" the mustache-bearer declared. "And that if there is a breach in security, they will face severe—!"

"Actually…"

Everyone fell silent, and turned their attention to the youngest of the five.

The youngest, who was actually wearing a small, thoughtful grin.

"I might… have an avenue we can pursue."

-o-

Even after emptying my stomach, I still felt nauseous at the stream of miasma coming out of Charloss's mouth, but for the sake of royally screwing over the World Government, I endured. Because in the end, this was gonna hurt him a whole lot more than it hurt me. In the process, however, I learned about many of the… less than palatable habits of the Drifting Newts. And when I say 'less than palatable,' keep in mind that I say that with full cognizance of everything the mob said when they were attacking the Donquixotes. Because trust me, that… that was just a drop in the bucket. That was nothing.

-o-

"Why, just the other day, Saint Batham wouldn't give up even one copy of Negev Magazine! The best for looking at potential brides! And then Saint Jerona swiped it while we were fighting!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Wait, fighting…?"

"My servants were winning! And then this brat barely into puberty steals it from right under our noses! Five servants dead for nothing!"

"Right. Servants. Obviously. What else could you have possibly meant." I shook my head in an effort to keep from sinking too far into my mental morass. "But, ah, wait, Negev is a—ergh—mortal fashion magazine. If you were looking for… wives, why would she want it?"

"Why, to find out who to have killed, of course," Charloss declared, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I was frozen, stunned… for all of ten seconds before I pieced things together. "Because… they're mortals who dare to attempt to match the radiance of the World Nobles?"

"Naturally, of course!"

"Naturally, naturally…" I grit out through my grin, slamming my hand to my face the second he looked away. "Aaaaand I just killed the modeling industry stone dead, faaaan-fucking-tastic."

"Well, that or drove it underground, IF IT HELPS."

"It. Doesn't."

"Buuuut anyway—"

And then there's this guy who's still not done!

"Still though! I got her back well enough, I managed to get my hands on every copy of Brickson Monthly, and I made sure to have her favorite selected as the next target. I do believe delivering his head to her porch should work nicely!"

"Gooood for you, your lordshipfulness!" I got out through my grit teeth before lowering my breath. "Everyone who's been in that magazine for the past month, make your way to a Revolutionary island immediately." I then gave the wingless lizard-skin across from me a perfectly fake winning smile. "So, while we're on the topic of your… love lives—"

-o-

"It's better being grown up, but I liked being a child while it lasted. But I remember one of the first times I learned what being an adult meant, when father gave me a slave to beat for the first time!"

"I'm going to regret this, I am going to—How old were you?"

"Hm? Oh, twelve. Why?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment before grabbing up my cup and slurping down a long, long drink before something could surge back up. "I really, really wish I had something stronger than Cola right now…" I scowled into my mug before lowering it and grinning. "Guuuuuheheheh, continue…"

"So to start things off, Father presented me with a goodly variety of instruments. Me being the sophisticated man I am, I naturally chose the fire poker!"

"Naturally…"

-o-

"Honestly, it gets so boring sometimes. So you can imagine how delighted I was when Saint Ancel came up with something new!"

"This is either going to be totally inane and wasteful or utterly inhuman, there is no in-between with these bastards…" Cross grumbled to himself.

"Oh, it's easy! You just need some slaves you don't need that you can starve almost to death, and then you present them with a table full of kitchen scraps. The poor beasts gorge themselves to death! They can't help themselves! It's endlessly amusing to watch."

The snail's eye twitched viciously. "Oh, this one's both, that's a pleasant change of pace…" Cross wheezed to himself before raising his voice. "F-For the sake of those back home… I'm assuming the food served at the royal tables makes the cuisine of even mortal nobles seem bland?"

"Well, I've never actually tasted mortal food, but I have it on good authority that that is the case! Though Ancel is an odd one. He keeps changing the scraps on his tables, almost as if he's trying to find something that won't kill the slaves." Charloss chuckled, an ugly, wheezing, phlegmy sound. "Ah, he was always an experimenter. When we were younger, he used to stab his slaves in different places to see how long it would take them to bleed to death."

There was the faintest sound of a distant explosion over the line, and Charloss's face perked up in curiosity. "Huh? What was that?"

"Probably nothing," Cross hastily answered. "You know how it is with mortals and celebrations. Just… fireworks or something like that." He then lowered his voice into a panicked hiss. "Zoro, Boss, knock him the fuck out before he kills us all!"

"Definitely Sanji, then," Patty grunted as he—and the entire Baratie kitchen staff—strained to hold back their berserk head chef and the knife he intended to use to decapitate their Transponder Snail.

"Still fighting the good fight, then," Carne added as Zeff managed to eke out another few inches. "Argh! Dammit, Cross, move on to the next subject already, before our next escargot dish tastes like crap!"

"ESCARGOT NOTHING, NOT EVEN I WOULD SERVE THAT ROTTEN THING TO ONE OF THOSE BASTARDS! I'M USING IT AS FUCKING FERTILIZER!" Zeff roared at the top of his lungs, bashing the handle of his knife into Patty's head and making a lunge for the snail—a maneuver that only missed by an inch thanks to Carne narrowly grabbing his pegleg.

"Right, this shitshow's gone on long enough and I think the world's gotten the point, SO YOUR HOLINESS!" Cross transitioned from a whisper to a proclamation mid-sentence. "Not that this hasn't been… truly transcendental and beyond all… and I do mean all possible words, I am afraid that, ah… ah, I can only run my transceiver for so long! Yes, that sounds perfectly believable. So unless there's anything else, I think I'm going to—?"

"Oh, wait wait wait, there's one last thing!"

"OH FOR FUCKS' SAKES, HAVEN'T WE SUFFERED ENOUGH!?" Carne howled. A statement that the pegleg that rammed into his face promptly emphasized. "AGH, LITERALLY!"

-o-

I regarded the Tone Dial in Charloss's hands like it was a live bomb, which really wasn't outside the realm of possibilities when you're sitting across from the man who habitually has slaves play hot potato with a live grenade.

"W-Well…" I hedged, before stiffening up as I heard a gun cock behind my head. "O-Of course, as you say! Though, uh… your holi…est…ness… may I know what's on that device?"

"Ech..." Charloss's already-ugly mug twisted into an even uglier grimace as he waved the Dial around. "Merely some lesson or other on philosophy my uncle had me memorize. I'll admit, I don't understand one word of it, but perhaps it will impart the tiniest iota of culture to the unwashed masses!"

I could feel my eye twitch. This had 'clusterfuck' written all over it, but there really wasn't any way to get the hell out of here that didn't involve going through that Dial, and the gun pressing against my skull was getting mighty uncomfortable, so…

"Fuck it, we're going in blind," I hissed. "Viewers, hang onto your butts and get a trash can ready."

I was braced for anything when that Tone Dial played. It still managed to exceed all my expectations, in all the worst ways.

-o-

"You must understand: what we do—the expansion of the empire, the conquest of the world to form a true World Government—we do for moral reasons. If humanity is shaped so that it can act with a coherent will together, then it no less forms an organism than the cells of the human body do. These cells perform particular functions, but they all do so not to serve the will of odd groups or individual cells, but for the body's purpose as a whole, and by doing so they create a conscious being. This superorganism has rights, and its rights matter far more than the rights of its cells.

Its right to exist coherently is firstmost in our world. As it is now, by allowing plurality, and by failing to unify and shape humans what we have is a schizophrenic and weak superorganism—though you could barely call it that at all. Truly, this 'democracy' notion is like allowing a retarded baby to be born.

If human society has a variety of different sectors desiring different individualistic things, then the superorganism has no clear conscious drive. Totalism is the moral and religious goal to give it a coherent drive by putting every unit to a purpose that adds up to a singular drive to expand and maintain the superorganism with a maximally clear consciousness.

Well, at first you need strong leaders to collectivize society. You need to collectivize the economy, and collectivize the people. Getting rid of dissident elements, and not allowing any further weak generations to be born.

Through development you can eventually reach the stage where society is composed of people who are perfectly subservient to the plan, and there is a collective agreement on where we must go. We can begin to upgrade people and transform ourselves into human 2.0, all the while purging any plurality.

At that point, the technocrats are simply instruction nodes in the system, and everything will run a lot smoother because all dissent has been gotten rid of. What was first a dream of a party which had to be impressed upon the rest of the people is now the dream of the whole of the people. A unified consciousness is born.

What determines what this consciousness will want is the conditions of survival. By unifying society towards this goal the initial party are essentially crafting the genome of this new organism. Its purpose foremost will be that of all life; to survive. That alone is good. To survive and expand. Its purpose is to grow itself.

The superorganism will—assuming that lightning-empowered heathen had some iota of sense in his heretical brain—one day spread out into space to consume everything. With us at the head of it all."

-o-

I stared blankly at the Dial, my eye twitching like it was on crack. "Aaaand I just felt myself die a little on the inside. Wonderful."

"What was that?"

"I just said that that was wonderful, sir," I blandly reiterated, not even bothering with faking enthusiasm because at this point, a bullet to the frontal lobe would be a kindness for me. "Anyway, if that's all…?"

"Yes yes, go right ahead, I'm starting to get sick of looking at you." Charloss dismissed me with a wave of his hand. He then did the first truly impressive thing I'd seen him do all day by managing to haul his fat ass out of his seat on his own. "And I do suppose I should be meeting up with Father and my sister soon anyway." He glanced up and scrunched his face up in intense thought. "Though, now that I think about it, I do believe I'm forgetting something…"

"Ah yes," one of his aides coughed. "Your holiness, you wished us to remind you—"

"—To leave a sizable tip for the owners of this fine establishment in thanks for their fine service, yes, how could we forget Saint Charloss's divine charity," I cut in, casting a sidelong glare at the agent in question.

"I did?" Charloss blinked before bursting out into jowly laughter. "Mufufufun! I mean, of course I did! Yes, how could I possibly enjoy such a delicious—if pedestrian—meal and not leave a pittance?" He then waved his hand dismissively as he made for the door. "Just leave something nice on the counter, a hundred million should do."

While I pumped my fist at my victory, however petty, the agent was left sputtering incredulously. "W-Wha—your divinity! You wished us to remind you to burn this hovel down to the foundation!"

"WHAT!?" Charloss snarled, wheeling around and jabbing his gun in the suddenly very frozen agent's face. "After the fantastic service I was just provided!? You insolent vermin! Consider yourself lucky that you're carrying my wallet today, lest I have you set yourself on fire instead!"

"Yes, Saint Charloss, I understand, Saint Charloss, mercy, Saint Charloss!" the suit-wearing fink-rat whimpered pathetically.

"Hrrrmph!" he harrumphed, turning away. Several of his guards took that opportunity to look at me, unsubtly drawing their weapons. I felt like I actually was gargling acid with what I said next, but damn it, if they had any inclination to send CP-0 after me—and after what I just did, no way in hell any of them didn't—I needed to buy enough time for Kuma to put us out of harm's way.

"If I could impose one more request upon you, your divinity?" I gagged out. "Just in case any of your fellows want to try attacking me out of… jealousy of you?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah, that could be bad," Charloss grunted irritably, addressing me and my mic with a mucus-y clearing of his throat. "Ahem! People of the world, know that for as long as Jeremiah Cross and his crew stay on the Sabaody Archipelago, anyone who tries attacking them will get killed by an Admiral. Slowly." His eyes then lit up with sadistic (or as I'd come to know it, his usual) glee. "Oh, actually that could be fun, would you like me to call one—?"

"Hey look at that we're all out of time, wonderful to have had you here, be sure to call again sometime, bye!" I yelped out before ramming the mic back into its cradle. Three times over, for good measure.

"Oh poo…" Charloss sagged in defeat, before perking up. "Ah well, I'll just have to call again some other time, then. I'm fairly certain I have the number written somewhere…unless Shalria stole it again or—" And with that degeneration into unintelligible grumbling, the bastard finally, finally did me the inestimable favor of getting the holy hell away from me, and taking the majority of his entourage with him.

Majority, mind you, because the agent he'd threatened—ah, the agent he'd threatened to set on fire… OK, the agent he'd threatened to set on fire in the last ten minutes was where he'd left him, still coming down from his panicked adrenaline surge. Which, actually, worked out pretty well for me.

"You know you're a dead man walking, right?" I asked without preamble, causing the agent to whip his head towards me with an incredulous sputter.

"Bitch please, walking IS ENTIRELY TOO GENEROUS A TERM FOR HOW DEAD HE IS," Soundbite snorted. "OR AT LEAST… FOR HOW DEAD HE AND EVERYONE HE WORKS WITH WILL BE ONCE THE REST OF THE WINGLESS LIZARD-SHITS GET THEIR HANDS ON THEM FOR WHAT THEY JUST LET HAPPEN!"

"W-What?!" the agent veritably shrieked, boggling at me in naked terror. "B-B-But that wasn't our fault, that was—!"

"I-I'm sorry, but what interview were you LISTENING TO JUST NOW?" Soundbite deadpanned.

"What the snail said," I nodded in bored agreement. "Because really, think about what you're arguing and who you're arguing it to: You would have died if you tried to stop what I just did? Now, remind me… isn't giving your life for the 'greater good' exactly what you signed up for?"

The suit-wearing prat stared for a bit more before something in his brain broke and he sank to his knees with a pitiful and poignant whimper of "Fuck…"

"Yeah, that pretty much summarizes your situation," I nodded casually, more occupied with examining my glove's fingertips. "I'd say you have… less than six hours to grab the rest of your guys, steal whatever's not nailed down on that smug prick's yacht, and book a ticket on the first boat headed to the ass-end of nowhere. If you're lucky. Oh!" I snapped my fingers and snapped a glare down at the worthless worm. "And don't forget to spring as many slaves on your way out as you can, too. Because if you don't, I will find out. Got me?"

Regrettably, the answer to my question seemed to be on the negative side, due to the dope's expression still reflecting a broken brain.

Soundbite, however, fixed that with one sentence: "Unless you want to join Saint Caulia's collection?"

The agent immediately snapped back to very alert panic.

"She has been looking for a good arm, remember?" I idly mused.

"AND HER DRAPES DO NEED FRESHENING UP, and lo and behold look who's got quality ink on their ass." Soundbite tilted his eyestalks to cast a dismissive glance at the agent's rear. "A running tally of your killcount. CLASSY, JUST CLASSY."

"…how the hell do you two even do this?" the agent gurgled, swaying heavily on his feet.

"LIFE GAVE ME A PLATTER OF SUFFERING with a serving of Devil Fruit on the side."

"And I just really hate you and everything you…well…" I waved airily at his currently useless legs. "You get the gist. Aaaanyway…" I threw a carefree wave over my shoulder as I walked off. "Good luck staying alive. Or not, I don't care anymore…"

Once I was a good meter away from him, I started massaging my face as the everything of what felt like the past eternity hit me at once.

"I really… really do not care anymore…"

-o-

"Robin, where is Cross? If that was comparable to what Eneru did to him, there is no way he's OK right now!"

"I am on my way to him as we speak, Conis. But have a little more faith, won't you?"

"Faith nothing! If there's nothing to be worried about, then why did I have to use Pinky to call you?"

Robin paused. Then, shaking her head, she continued. "Alright, you have a point. Trust me, though, I'll ensure that if he needs comfort and assurance, he'll have it."

It was at that point that Cross came into view, and a frown marred her face. "…and he very clearly does need it. I'll call you back."

Nico Robin was herself struggling a fair amount to bury the suffering that the World Government was responsible under the knowledge that its publicization had just secured a noose with rusted spikes around its neck. But 20 years of exposure to the evils of humanity had numbed her a great deal; she was able to cope with it far better than the young man and his snail she saw now, the two of them sitting on an overturned crate and staring ahead at absolutely nothing.

Without a word, she stowed Brain away and sat beside him, two hands sprouting from the ground and spreading their palms to provide a makeshift stool while her left hand touched Cross's unoccupied shoulder.

They sat in solemn silence for what felt like an age, with neither the human nor snail even acknowledging her presence, and it was with great reluctance that Robin decided to engage him first.

"Is there any way I can help?" she asked.

An eye twitch wasn't much of a reaction, but at least it was one. "…three soft pretzels… some ranch dressing… a stiff drink… a hug… and a gun to shoot myself," he dragged out, as though every word were a reel of barbed wire.

"MAKE IT A DOUBLE." Soundbite croaked in agreement.

Robin contemplated that request—and its eerie similarity to some thoughts she'd had back when she was his age—before responding. "Well, I can help with one of those."

"Scotch on the rocks, leave the bottle."

"Heh," Robin snorted in amusement. "Just shut up and relax." And with that she slung her arm around his shoulders, drawing Cross into a one-sided hug while patiently laying her… well, a hand on Soundbite's shell. It wasn't much, but at least the both of them finally let their bodies unclench, so that was definitely progress right there.

They spent a fair amount of time in silence, just sitting there and watching the bubbles waft through the air, the sunlight streaming and filtering through the naturally produced film.

Ultimately, it was Robin who spoke first again. "You did a good thing, Cross."

Cross gave a more substantial response this time, if a groan and rubbing his eyes with exhaustion could count as 'substantial.' "The 'good thing' just put my soul through a thresher. Which is only different from the last few times I've done a good thing in that right now I feel dead on the inside instead of the outside."

The archaeologist tensed up, her encyclopedic brain fumbling for an answer. "Ah, C-Cross—?"

The Anarchist replied by grimacing—his first proper display of emotion—and waving his hand. "I-I'm not giving up or anything, don't worry about that. This one just… the other instances where I got my ass kicked sucked, but that's just a matter of pain tolerance, I can deal with that. This one… it's a lot harder to cope with getting drained like that. You would know, right?"

"Mmm," she responded with a nod. "But the difference is that you have companions that you can fall back on for support. A bit of rest and company, possibly some physical therapy from Popora, and you should—"

"Puru puru puru puru! Ggh, is this REALLY THE—huh?"

"I believe I can handle one call from this side of things while you recover," Robin said, gently but firmly as she secured Cross's headphones around her own head. "This is Nico Robin… he's indisposed, but I'm sure that I can…"

Robin trailed off and her expression fell into dull resignation. Removing the headphones, she held them out to Cross. "It's for you."

Groaning in exasperation, Cross resecured his headphones. "Unless somebody is dying or an entire Grove is on fire, hang up now or so help me… ech, I'm too tired to even think of a good threat. What do you—?"

Robin winced as Cross and Soundbite both snapped up straight, suddenly looking utterly wired. She'd expected that to happen, and slowly, she backed away from the coming explosion.

"Huh?" Cross blinked dumbly, tapping at his headphones. "…wait, what? No, I'm sorry, say that again, it almost sounds like you said—?" He nodded slowly. "…that's what I thought you said. In that case, question…"

-o-

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 'KEIMI'S BEEN KIDNAPPED'!?"

The fishmen all winced as Cross's outraged voice cracked down over them like an iron rod, but at least two of their tempers remained piqued.

"Jeremiah Cross, I have wanted to say this for the last two weeks and now I can't even enjoy it: you cannot be as angry about this as we are," Kuroobi growled, voice pained.

"A group of thugs came after Keimi. We didn't hold back… and they still beat us. Left us lying on the ground within an inch of our lives and made us watch as they dragged her off," Hachi explained.

"And this was about ten minutes ago, because everyone was too glued to your horror show for us to get any help," Chew spat, puffing himself up. "If this is anyone's fault, it's—!"

Any composure in any of the three evaporated when a blast straight out of a howitzer shattered the air and did its level best to blow out their eardrums, even going so far as to crack every piece of glass within ten feet of them.

"I just spent the last HOUR sitting across from that waste of flesh, doing my best to keep myself from punching his lights out and killing us all AT MINIMUM. DO. NOT. TEST ME!"

While all three of the fishmen were definitely cowed by Cross's explicit promise of harsh, violent action, Hachi managed to get his wits about him long enough to give the snail a pleading look. "Cross, you're angry and you have every right to be, we all are, but please, calm down! You're the only one who can save her!" Two of the octopus's hands then snapped out and slammed his 'friends' in their throats before either of them could get a word out.

The snail kept snorting and throbbing malevolently, the air rippling around it, until finally it exhaled a massive, massively aggravated breath. Though while some measure of sanity returned to its eyes, the throbbing veins didn't abate. "From. The top. A group of thugs got Keimi: how in the fuck?"

"Nyuuu, that's a question we'd all like answered, Cross…" Hachi groaned. "One second we were trying to avoid your broadcast, the next we were surrounded by a bunch of no-name nobodies who were dead-set on Keimi. We tried to fight back, gave them everything we had, and we're stronger than we were back on Cocoyashi, you can be sure of that, but!…but…" Hachi deflated, quite literally, his breath trumpeting out of his mouth. "Nothing we did actually did anything. They shrugged it all off, they were too fast, too strong, it was like… like we were fighting you guys all over again. They beat all three of us within an inch of our lives, took Keimi, and left us broken and defeated."

Slowly, the rage on the snail that they were facing abated, though the frown didn't shrink one bit.

"… run that last part by me again. They took Keimi and left… after they had you three dead to rights?"

"They just wanted us to su—" Hachi stopped speaking, and all three pairs of eyes widened as the precise implications sunk in.

"They took Keimi… and completely ignored three more fishmen," Chew said in disbelief. "But… why?"

"I have a pretty good idea, and it's not one that anyone on our side is going to like." Cross shook his head. "Look, I'll rally the troops and prepare to bring down hell. You three get after those bastards and try to cut them off before they can reach Grove 1."

"How do you—!?" Kuroobi started.

"The Auction House is the only hellhole on this island we haven't turned inside out and that has the rep and security to sell the mermaid, it's not that hard of a guess. Now move, and if you get there too late, do not go in without us. And don't worry about waiting…"

Cross's expression darkened immensely.

"We won't be far behind."

-o-

While Soundbite hung up the call and started redialing, I scowled as I rummaged through my coat. "Sonnuva-sonnuva-sonnuva, where the hell is it—?"

"Ahem?" Robin coughed politely, a dozen or so hands sprouting from my… everywhere, holding everything I had on me. "Is any of this what you're looking for?"

I quickly scanned the remote arms, before snatching out what I needed. Specifically, the piece of paper that I needed. And while I scanned the paper and Robin returned my stuff, Soundbite tuned back in with several hanger-ons in tow.

"Cross, no offense, but what the hell!?" Nami demanded without preamble. "Why aren't you cutting a bloody swath to Grove 1 already? Besides the Nobles, I mean, we can worry about them when we get there!"

"Because right now, I'm more concerned with figuring out why we even need to rescue her in the first place," I retorted, scowling at the sheet in my hand as things started clicking together in my head. "And I'm holding a big clue to that picture in my hands right now, and it reeks."

"What are you—?" Merry began.

"The flyer that Charloss gave me," I explained. "It's printed on high-quality cardstock, features raised lettering, a veneer of goldleaf that I suspect is actual, literal gold, and very elegant wording and presentation."

"And this matters to us because…?" Zoro prompted.

"It matters," Robin cut in, giving the flyer a glare of her own now that she was looking at it properly. "Because the establishment this rag advertises—the one it led Charloss to and that Shuraiyah and Bepo were cornered in—reeks of human waste and toilet wine and hasn't known the business end of a mop or broom since Gold Roger died."

A moment of stunned silence followed, which meant everyone got what we were saying.

"That flyer's a fake," Vivi breathed, her voice numb. "Somebody baited a World Noble into falling right on top of us."

"Who the hell has the balls to do that!?" our navigator demanded. "For Aeolus's sake, we don't have the balls to do that!"

"They didn't just bait a Noble… or at least, THEY DIDN'T DO IT WITHOUT REASON…"

"Soundbite?" I gave my snail a questioning look, but he ignored me in favor of our archaeologist.

"ROBIN, DO YOU HAVE A MAP ON YOU?"

Robin immediately snapped out a map and unfurled. "What are you thinking?"

"THE THREE TENETS OF A GOOD BUSINESS," he muttered to himself as he eyeballed the honeycomb of groves. "LOCATION, LOCATION, BRIBE THE HEALTH INSPECT—SON OF A SEA-SLUG, I KNEW IT! LOOK!" He jabbed his eyestalk at the south-eastern portion of the map. "Look at where that store was, Grove 53. NOW COMPARE IT WITH WHERE Keimi and co. were, in the amusement park…" His other eyestalk snapped to the north-west. "UP HERE!"

"They're damn near on opposite sides of the archipelago, they isolated that entire half of the archipelago from us!" I swore, eliciting curses and gasps from the rest of my adjutants. "And when you combine that with the most damning information of all-"

"What information is that?" Zoro grit out through his already-grinding teeth.

"The fact that the people who did this didn't just hit and run, they had all four of our semi-aquatic acquaintances right where they wanted them, but they only took Keimi," I replied. While Zoro and Merry were confused, Nami and Vivi gasped in shock.

"But- But that doesn't make sense!" the princess exclaimed.

"Mermaids might be worth ten times their weight in gold around here, but fishmen are valuable too, especially ones as… above average as those three," Nami simultaneously explained and thought out loud. "There isn't a slaver or kidnapper alive who'd pass up the chance to make even one beri more—"

"Unless this wasn't about slavery in the first place."

All attention shifted to Soundbite, whose eyes were shifting about in intense thought.

"None of this was done for shits and giggles, this was all planned," he declared. "The farthest possible location from the target, the biggest fire they could possibly set, and we walked into it beautifully. Somebody engineered a bonafide Buster Call-level situation in order to cover up Keimi's kidnapping. A kidnapping that wasn't financially motivated."

"Then why take her?" Merry demanded. "Out of everyone on this once-and-probably-still-godforsaken archipelago, why her!? What, apart from the tail and gills, makes her different?!"

Robin, Soundbite and I all grimaced as the answer hit us, but it was Vivi who voiced the grim truth of things.

"Us." She let the truth of things hang for a moment before elaborating. "We're the only ones on this archipelago worth risking the ire of a World Noble to trick. The only ones who could warrant that. Which in itself raises a whole host of questions…"

"Such as how they knew to strike the most vulnerable and at-risk person associated with us in the first place," Nami concurred. "Keimi hasn't been on the SBS, she hasn't been near any of us in the public eye! The only way anyone could know about her was if they were on Skelter Bite or in Grove 77, and neither of those options are anywhere close to feasible!"

"Who could be doing this, anyway?" Merry added. "An Emperor? The Marines? The World Nobles or Aegis-0 already?!"

"Or any other Tom, Dick or Harry with connections, we did just put a lot of very evil, very powerful people out of business all at once…" Vivi reluctantly admitted.

"Whoever it is, consider the fact that there shouldn't be any kidnapping gangs left on this island that are strong enough to curb-stomp even one fishman on dry land, much less all three of Saw-Tooth Arlong's ex-Sun Pirate lieutenants at once, much less when they're a band of feckless, nameless mooks," I grimly pointed out. "These guys weren't local muscle, and I don't just mean this archipelago, I mean this ocean. There's only one way I can think of for any human to be that casually strong…"

"…and that's if they come from the New World," Zoro deduced in just as grim a voice.

Another long, heavy pause. And then…

"Tell Grove 77 to batten down all hatches and shore up their defences, and then call in the rest of the Supernovas to surround Grove 1, but under no circumstances are they to enter the Auction House," I told Soundbite in a frigid tone. "This is a trap meant for us from someone who has a total disregard for intelligent life, I don't want to find out what they'll do if we don't play along. Best case scenario, we go in, we get Keimi, we get out, and then we mulch whoever did this another day, when nobody's lives but ours are on the line. Agreed?"

"Agreed," was the general rumble, and so the deed was done. But before everyone could disconnect, one last question was asked.

"Cross," Merry whispered, sounding almost as though she were afraid to speak. "What… What are we walking into?"

I considered the question, and I tried, I tried to think of a better answer, but in the end, all I had was the truth.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly, both to her and to myself. "I don't know… but one way or another, we're going to find out."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"As you expected, Young Master. The Straw Hats are convening on the Auction House."

The words echoed through Disco's office, heavy as a death knell and just as certain. The room had been host to many an evil before, but somehow… somehow this one final conversation trumped them all.

"We're all set up to enjoy the main event, Young Master. But are you certain that you wouldn't like to deal with them personally?"

"Fuffuffuffu… I may have considered it at the start of this, but after the last hour? No, there's no chance in hell that I'm not leaving them a chance of surviving this. Whether they live or die is up to them, be it by the skin of their teeth or not at all. If they die, then the world falls to pieces and I laugh, and if they live, then they'll rip the world to pieces, clawing at the dark in a pitiful attempt to get to me. I don't have a clue what'll happen, but either way, I do know this. Whoever wins or loses…"

And for a final time, EVIL smiled in that room.

"IT'S GONNA BE ONE HELL OF A SHOW!"