"Fuller, Vetica: second year assistant track; high marks in writing ability and drive; low marks in listening; daughter of the late, Fuller, Marlon..." Opera looked up at from the paper she was holding, before letting Her gaze drift over to the boy standing next to her. "Rider, Lucas: second year assistant track; also high marks in writing and listening... Your teachers say you aren't very social, though. Already in your second year and barely any friends."
Vetica wrung her hands as she stood next to her friend in the woman's office. She could feel Rider's tension swell as he straightened up.
"I'm just more concerned with my studies, Ma'am," he said.
Opera cocked an eyebrow at the pasty looking boy then glanced back down at the paper. "I see... I suppose your technical skills do reflect as much."
Then she looked up at Vetica. "What about you?."
She simply nodded in response.
"So why did I find two otherwise upstanding assistant track students messing around in talent track classrooms?"
The girl gulped, brushing her fluffy hair behind her ear. Her eyes searched the floor for an answer. She looked up into the woman's dark eyes.
"I wanted to know what it felt like," She said. "I didn't come here to be someone's assistant, I came here to be a reporter."
She felt Rider give her a quick smack with his elbow. She winced and rubbed her arm.
Opera leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Her eyes carefully studying the pair. A small smile graced her lips.
"I appreciate the honesty in that statement; I'm sure you picked up that trait from your father," she mused. "But if you really want to be a reporter, you're going to have to learn to be more discerning with who you choose share that honesty."
Vetica pulled her lips tight together and nodded. "Sorry. Yes, Ma'am."
Opera placed the papers on her desk. "Good, Take that to heart. Especially since I called you here because I would like to move you two to the talent track."
The girl's eyes grew wide as she could feel her pulse speeding up. "Seriously? You mean it? You really mean it?"
Opera let out a small snort.
"Of course, both of your writing samples have shown a lot of promise, and cleaned up you both look decent enough. Though I never want to hear of your breaking the rules again, it takes guts to chase for what you want and it takes guts to be a reporter."
Vetica turned excitedly to Rider to hug him but was stopped by the pensive expression on his face. Clearly Opera had noticed it to as she leaned on her desk.
"There seems to be something weighing on your mind Mister Rider," she said. The girl could see Rider rubbing his index finger and thumb together as if he was trying to work up that courage to speak. She had never seen him that nervous about anything. "Please, you can share your thoughts here."
"Thank you for the offer, but I don't want to switch tracks," he said.
"Oh?"
Vetica watched Rider take a deep breath before he continued. "I don't really want to be in the spotlight, especially if it means I'd have to compromise on my morals."
There was a clear look of disappointment on Opera's face and she sunk back in the chair. The girl couldn't lie she was also disappointed. Rider had been her only friend since she had joined the academy, it was going to be weird not having any workshops with him or being able to ask him for advice. The older boy looked at her.
"Besides," He said, giving her a smile. "Vetica's going to need an assistant in the future. If I can help her reach her goals, that's fine by me."
"You are that confident in her?" Opera challenged.
Rider nodded. His brown eyes seemed to twinkle with passion. "Yes, Ma'am. I think the most important thing for an Assistant and Reporter team is the ability to work honestly towards their goals as a unit. Vetica's ambitious and is going to need someone who shares her beliefs. If we're a team I don't see why we couldn't be unstoppable."
A feeling of warmth unlike anything Vetica had ever felt before, swelled in her chest. No one had ever spoken with such confidence in her, since her father died. Her eyes began to sting as she stared at his warm brown gaze.
Opera chuckled, "Very well. Starting today I'm expecting big things from you two... You're dismissed."
Vetica scrambled to her feet as Gambia brought in her evening, or at least what she assumed was evening, meal. The door opening had streamed bright orange sunlight into her eyes. She placed her hands on the bars of her cage, drawing herself close to where the man knelt with the tray of bread.
"Were you able to give Barty my message?" She asked.
Gambia grumbled a little bit as he fiddled with the lock of the wooden cage. "Yeah, I did."
"And?" She said, backing away just enough to let the gate open.
The man pushed the tray into the cell and began to turn his attention towards the first aid kit. Vetica covered the bandage around her head defensively.
"He said he'll see you when he gets time."
"And how soon will that be?" A surge of annoyance passed through Vetica's body, causing her head injury to throb. "He does understand that every minute I'm away makes it harder for me to explain where I was, right?"
She could tell Gambia shared her same annoyance, as the man avoided her gaze.
"Not our problem," he huffed, opening a vat of some mysterious goopy substance. "Should've thought of that before you left in the first place."
Vetica let out a sigh, and looked away. She couldn't really argue with that logic. She already felt guilt over the fact she had already put herself behind on breaking what was quite possibly a story that could potentially change the world. And there was also the fact that she had probably left Rider in a difficult position. Although her old friend was extremely reliable in a pinch, dealing with marine questioning could be really rough and his crush on Twill probably made that even worse. She would have to give him a large apology later.
"Let me check your head," Gambia ordered.
She glared at him momentarily, but obliged.
"He could still at least try to be a little bit more specific," she muttered, wincing as Gambia placed the ointment on the back of her head. "What is that stuff? It's so greasy."
Gambia smiled for a moment.
"Secret recipe from Granny."
Vetica snorted. "Granny really does have a trick for everything."
"You bet."
Vetica swallowed, rebandaging her head. She could feel her stomach begin to twist into a knot as Gambia silently began putting away his supplies. She watched his as he locked the cage and began to stand.
"Gambia... uh," she stammered. He stopped and looked down at her. She cleared her throat and looked away. "Thank you... Honestly. For helping me... at all."
Gambia sighed. He stretched, resting his free hand on his hip. "You know. There was once a time where I thought you'd have made a pretty sweet crewmate."
She let out a short laugh. "I can't imagine myself being a pirate."
Gambia eyebrows shot up from behind his glasses. "You? The girl who killed six men-"
The door to the brig slammed open filling the room with sunlight, the silhouette of Bartolomeo serving as the only thing keeping Vetica from momentary blindness. She shielded her eyes.
"Barto-aniki!" Gambia breathed.
"I'm here-dabe," Bartolomeo said, simply, looking at Gambia. " Could you..."
"I'm leavin' right now," the second mate said, pressing past the hulking man. She barely caught him mouth "don't back out" before he shut the door.
As Bartolomeo slowly walked into the room, Vetica could feel something different about him. There wasn't the usual perkiness or command to his step. And there was something tired about the way his voice sounded. As she looked up into his blood-red eyes, the bars between them seemed to disappear, and she realized she was alone with the man that she had only ever seen directed at others. He was a ruthless that could take on a full pirate crew on his own, that survived the first round of Doflamingo's tournament with casual ruthlessness, and commanded the respect of the Loguetown streets.
He slunk over to a crate and took a seat, his hands clasped to his chin in thought.
"I'm glad you're alright-dabe," He said, in a voice so soft Vetica almost regretted her fear. "I was worried that you wouldn't wake up-dabe."
Vetica bit her lip, reminding herself of the resolve she had only moments before. "Hello, Barty."
He grimaced at her.
"You say that like we didn't see each other the other night-dabe," he chuckled. His voice was strained and seemed forced.
"You mean the night I found out you stole from me and you tried and then actually managed to hold me captive?" she retorted, feeling her face begin to grow hot with anger.
The smile left his face, hands sinking to rest on his knees. His eyes grew wide as he began to speak. "I didn't-"
"I know," she stated, cutting him off. She pressed her lips together, attempting with every muscle in her body to will away the temptation to shiver, as the realization she had ignored up until that point. "I know. In every logical place I want to know, that you didn't mean to... But when I remember it, I know you did, right? At least for a moment."
His eyes averted away from hers. The same expression she had given Rider over a year ago.
"Your primary goal was to keep me here."
She could see his face had contorted into one of sorrow. Tears had begun streaming down his cheeks, which he attempted to wipe away on his sleeve.
"I'm so sorry-dabe..." He sobbed. "I just like you-dabe..."
He sniffled, wiping his eyes furiously. Vetica drew closer to the bars. She could feel anger begin to boil inside her at how pathetic he looked, at how easily tempted she was to forgive him.
"You stole from me, even when I was knocked unconscious," she spat.
He wiped his face before reaching into his pocket and revealing her prized photo. He tossed it at her, and she scrambled to retrieve it. She held it to her chest.
"At least I didn't use you as a career boost-dabe…"
Vetica's eyes grew wide, and the photo slipped from her grasp, dropping slowly to the ground. Her head throbbed. Her heart pounded. Her stomach flipped so violently she questioned whether or not she was getting sick. She wanted to fervently deny that it was true; that every moment she had spent with him wasn't just some selfish whim on her behalf, that their relationship was deep and meaningful to her, and that she missed him every day. But in that moment her knack for words was totally lost and only one phrase trickled from her lips.
"Who told you that..."
She felt warm tears threaten her eyes, as the silence passed between them.
"Who told you that?"
The man let out a sound that could have easily been mistaken for the start of a laugh. He turned to her, his eyes glistening in the dim light.
"No one-dabe," he said, before jerking his head in a motion as if to correct himself. "Well Gambia a couple times, but he didn't have to..."
The solemnness in his voice told Vetica that he had felt this way for a while. Perhaps even since before Sabaody. She rubbed her left arm gingerly, as if somehow the memories it contained would help her feel better about the situation now. She took a deep breath as she reflected on the moments she and the pirate had spent together. From the day he had showered her in adoration to the minute of silence which hung between them now.
"You aren't completely wrong," she admitted, a surprising calm, or perhaps, shock, settling over her as tears fell from her eyes. "I did try... I did use you. For my own gain."
She could see Bartolomeo begin to grit his fangs again.
"-but I also really enjoyed spending time with you. In Sabaody. On our calls. That night here."
She wiped her own face, looking away, attempting to shut out his reaction, if only in an attempt to get herself through the words she had rehearsed for the several hours she had waited alone in that brig.
"I did. I really did... But I- I told you before; I have my own ambitions. And I don't see us together in them."
There was no audible response from Bartolomeo, and she refused to look at his face, for fear it might sway her resolve.
"If you never want to see me again after you drop me on shore that's fine. I've recognized that most of this is my fault not yours. But, you know, in a way the manipulation was mutual and I guess... what I really mean... I'm sorry. I realized there's something really important I need to do. So please. Please, Barty, let me go."
A gentle and sorrowful laugh escaped Bartolomeo, causing Vetica to look up at him. He was wiping his face with the palm of his had, but his expression was one of what could be mistaken for happiness. It was gentle and endearing, in stark contrast to his devilish appearance, and she watched him in awe and silence.
"Mutual Manipulation-dabe..." He said, standing. With a crack of his neck he began to leave, covering his face. "Just like Vetica-senpai to use fancy words to ask to leave. Just like an article-dabe..."
With a fluid motion he slammed the door open, once again flooding the room with light. "The agreement is off-dabe."
Then he bowed his head before throwing it back violently.
"Gambia!" He bellowed. "Let the reporter out-dabe! Men! We're stopping at the nearest island!"
The crew hollered back enthusiastically to his orders. And as she looked at silhouette in the doorway, she found herself smiling a little at how cool he looked as he strode away across the deck towards his quarters.
After Gambia released her, Vetica stretched in the glow of the setting sun, as she enjoyed the scent of fresh air in a way she never thought she would miss. Bartolomeo had understandably retreated to his room while she was given some time to walk freely on the ship. As she walked she went through a mental checklist of what she needed to do once Gambia brought her the den den mushi. First she would have to call Rider, then deal with the blowback from her kidnapping, which she could at least honestly say was real and violent this time, then after that she would compare the notes from her father's diary to the letter from...
As she thought to herself, she saw a familiar shadow pass through the sky, accompanied by the flapping of wings.
"News Coo!" She exclaimed running to the ship's railing, motioning wildly for the bird to head her way.
"Do you have money?" She demanded of a crewmember, who sheepishly relinquished a large coin from his pocket.
The bird swopped in to drop off a paper, and she tossed it a coin. To make things even better it was the Grand Line Gazette! Even if she was far away, Rider must have sent them to help keep her in the loop! She owed him a HUGE apology later!
Greedily she took in the headline on the front page. "Strawhat Luffy: The Fifth Emperor!"
"Barty, loo-!" She stopped herself, a brief moment of sadness washing over her. She closed her eyes and shook it off. A headline like this meant there would be new wanted posters. That would cheer her and Bartolomeo's spirits a little bit. She reached into the center of the newspaper and pulled them out, before heading towards the crew's quarters. "Gambia! Hey! You need to see this!"
The tall man ducked out of the main cabin door, "Yeah? What is it?"
She held up Luffy's wanted poster for him to see. "Check it out!"
Gambia hopped out door to quickly snatch the stack from her. "No way! Barto-aniki's gonna flip when he sees this!"
Vetica, winced at the mention of his name, but forced herself to focus on the good news at hand. As Gambia excitedly flipped through the new wanted posters, ooing and ahhing, Vetica busied herself reading the article.
"It says that, as originally reported by the World Economics Newspaper, Strawhat Luffy challenged the Emperor Big Mom at the wedding of her of her thirthy-fifth daughter, and though he was forced to flee from the Empress herself he didn't do so before inflicting large casualties on her forces! Can you believe that man? I never imagined he'd be climbing so quickly after just returning..."
That was when she noticed the man had gone silent. "Gambia? What's wrong? This is amazing news..."
The man silently snatched the newspaper and began flipping through it. She gently tugged on the paper's corner, but he was so intense she scared to try too hard to take it from him. Finally, he stopped on a page that Vetica recognized as one of the pages they commonly designated to smaller stories. The man flipped the paper around and handed it back to her.
"You need to read this," he said in a deep gravelly voice.
Vetica took it from him, scoffing, "What? Is there a story about me being kidnapped again?" Then she looked down to see a picture of her face. A very unflattering picture of her face...
Her breath caught and her voice seemed to break as she read the headline out loud.
"Making of a Monster: The lies and crimes Vetica Fuller, creator of "The Cannibal"... Written by Lucas Rider."