Vetica had to admit that they quaint harbor town that they had moored at was not the most ideal place to attempt to go unnoticed. All the locals seemed to all wear extremely modest garments made from bright ginghams and paisleys. Not to mention her tanner skin, attracted the attention of the near ghostly islanders. However, she and the reporter, whose name she had learned was Frederick, eventually found a small eatery with an obscured table in the back corner.
As agreed, the man covered her meal and she provided him with mostly true answers to questions such as how she had met Bartolomeo and how involved she was with his exploits. The only topic she felt like she was constantly having to swerve was her romantic entanglement with the pirate, which had played a large role in Rider's article about her. One second the reporter would be asking the plotting of Bartolomeo burning the port on Vella Bald and the next would be asking about the supposed marriage pact she and Bartolomeo had made at Sabaody.
"But you have to admit that it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume you might have had a tryst with him," Frederick pointed out with a celery stick after her fifth denial. "I mean, even from our small interaction you two seem... close."
Vetica sighed, leaning back in her chair. She was finally starting to get tired of Frederick's incessant pushing. Was this how other people felt when she interviewed them? Sheesh, was it annoying.
"So? What of it?" she challenged. She quickly finished her drink and shoved it toward the man. "People make up crazy stuff for articles all the time. It was just added for drama."
Frederick chuckled and poured her another glass of beer from the large bottle.
"Well I guess you would know a lot about that," he admitted. He then gently topped off his own glass. "It's just I heard a rumor that Lucas Rider originally rejected the opportunity to be a reporter because he didn't like that kind of drama."
"Well, working in the field changes you sometimes," she muttered.
She had witnessed it first hand with herself, and even with Rider a bit. Looking back on their time together she had turned a blind eye how pessimistic he had become. The energetic and practical young man, who had kept her grounded while they were in Alabasta, had become sarcastic and distant, and it was probably her fault.
Maybe with a different reporter he would have become a little jaded, but his morals wouldn't have been as compromised. He wouldn't have had to lie to cover where they were. He wouldn't be potentially implicated in murder or pirating. He would just live a quiet life as a tech before retiring at age fifty surrounded by a loving family and a normal life.
"That's bullshit," She heard Frederick say dismissively. He placed his pencil behind his ear, and Vetica noticed his notebook was no longer on the table. The man then reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. "Sorry, I mean, I'm sure it's not entirely untrue, but you don't actually believe someone with a reputation like his would just make a completely out of character decision like lying about his best friend."
He lit up one for himself before re-stashing the box.
"And don't try to deny that one; everybody in your graduating class talked about how inseparable you two were," he continued. "So, it seems to me, he was either always sketchy or you betrayed him in a way that made him feel like he had to out you."
Vetica watched him silently, as he took a long drag, attempting to keep her face from giving away too many of her emotions. He blew the smoke out towards the bar as his eyes, knowingly looked her over.
"Why do you care so much if what he wrote about Barty and me is true?" She sneered, knowing full well her pleasant front was falling. "I thought you were just interested in my criminal involvement."
Frederick beamed at her eyes gleaming with clear excitement. "Are you kidding? Reporters get small-scale busted for doing sketchy stuff or siding against the government all the time. But a promising reporter blowing up her whole career and becoming a criminal because she couldn't keep her work and personal life separate is a whole other level of cautionary tale! I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if they teach your story in schools once the government catches you."
Vetica's face began to boil, and she clenched her fist until her knuckles turned white. She closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself; causing a scene wouldn't change this man's mind and would just attract unwanted attention.
"You're making it sound like-"
"Like what?" He retorted. "You mean, like you fell head over heels for one of the world's most hated pirates?"
At that moment the fire inside of Vetica began to overwhelm he attempt at patience, and she looked the other reporter directly in the eyes.
"Fine! Let's say for a moment that I did hook up with him once or twice," she snapped, before leaning towards him. "I did! It's true, and I even liked it! But let me make one thing abundantly clear. My career wasn't ended because of pursuing some man; I destroyed it because I foolishly believed that somehow the rules of the world didn't apply to me and I could get away with whatever I wanted if I just said the right things. And for a while that was true. I caused this situation, no one else. Got it?"
She then sat back crossing her arms. "I refuse to let my life be defined by him."
The man sat with the cigarette dangling out of his mouth for a second, before taking a drag and flicking away the ashes. The corners of his lips curved down slightly, and Vetica could see the faint glisten of sweat on his brow as he leaned back in his chair.
"Gah, you're so intense," he groaned. "I take back what I said earlier, you're nothing like the emotionless bitch people told me you were."
A statement which Vetica couldn't help but feel another twinge of irritation towards. She let out a huff.
"Don't take that too harshly," he added, clearly sensing her annoyance. "Being that headstrong isn't necessarily a bad thing… just not very fun."
She sighed and took another drink, looking out to make sure nobody had decided to take interest in them. Aside from the couple that seemed to be gossiping about her outburst in the corner, The lunch crowd didn't seem to even be phased by it.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Vetica looked down at her drink, her aggravation beginning to subside.
"I'll continue to write," she said. She still had to spread the word about the havoc the World Government had wreaked over the past three decades on those who didn't agree with them. Not to mention there was the need to delve deeper and gather materials, gain a reader base and establish connections to get things out there. "Being an outlaw at least has given me the opportunity to focus on finally fulfilling my father's dream, even if it's not necessarily how he might have imagined it."
Frederick seemed to pause for thought before digging in his breast pocket. From it he removed what looked like a business card.
"Well if that's the case, you could probably use this," he said handing the card over to Vetica. "Morgans" was stamped across the top of the card in crisp thin letters. And under it was the contact information for the World Economy News.
"I don't understand," she said, looking it over.
The man smiled.
"It's not something that I'd hand out lightly, but think of this as a gift of good will, from reporter to reporter," he answered. He then tapped the name on the card. "Unlike a lot of people my boss doesn't really care if your wanted or not. Just so long as you're using a different name for publishing purposes. Who knows, maybe he'll be interested in bringing you aboard."
Vetica looked up at him, feeling herself return his smile. "And how should I repay this gift?"
The man looked up as if to feign disinterest, waving his cigarette back and forth like a conductor.
"Eh. I wouldn't mind getting an update about your man's strawhat friend every now and again," he said. "Just contact the number on the back."
"He's not my man... but deal."
After lunch the two parted ways, and Vetica set about gathering new clothes and supplies. Although the town didn't have much to offer in terms of variety, the young woman did manage to find a couple cheap clothing basics for her new life. Skirts were nice, but not very practical on a ship. She also managed to find a couple of pencils and a small notebook, though she wasn't able to afford another transponder snail. She mentally chided at herself for not thinking to keep emergency money in one of her skirt pockets.
Once she had collected her goods, she set back to where the ship had moored earlier in the day. It had taken her a bit longer to get her errands done than anticipated, but she doubted it would matter too much to the crew. Afterall she would expect a rowdy crew like his to spend the day carousing on land, drinking and hollering like they had the night she first stayed with them.
Suddenly there was a thunderous boom from behind her, and Vetica looked back to see a plume of smoke billowing up from the center of town. A crowd began to form in the streets as civilians gasped in shock and horror at the sight, and the young woman began to contemplate whether or not she should bolt for the ship. In the distance there was a large amount of movement, mixed with hoots and screams.
She squinted.
Above the heads in the distance she could see a fountain of tiny round objects rain upon the observers, slowly moving closer and closer to her location. Once the fountain was about fifteen meters away Vetica realized that they were tiny bobble heads like the one Barty had shown her just a few days before. She gulped and began to run away, shoving civilians out of her way with little regard for the angry responses being hurled at her.
As the Going Luffy-Senpai came into view, Vetica could distinctly hear the grating laugh of Bartolomeo the Cannibal gaining on her, along with the angry yells of a steadily growing mob. She looked behind her just in time to see the man's maniacal grin burst through the crowd, a ripped flag flapping wildly over his shoulder. She saw a spark of recognition as his eyes met hers, the number one indicator that he was going to do something impulsive.
"No. No. No. No. Nooo!" She yelped, as a muscular arm scooped her off feet. She clutched her items for dear life as she watched the ground fly beneath her. She scowled up at Bartolomeo who was clearly more focused on running. "What the hell is your problem!"
"I'll show you in a second," he exclaimed, before taking a giant leap. The two of them landed on the ship's deck with a thud, and the captain threw out his other arm, fingers crossed, as if he was preparing to fight. "Cast off!"
There was an affirmative yell from the crew, and a couple of thuds from other pirates who had clearly just made it back.
Vetica struggled out of the man's grip, quickly placing some distance between. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest from the adrenaline of the escape. That was it. She knew that was the only reason, but it still managed to awaken the deeply rooted anger she had towards her weakness when it came to the pirate.
Once she had caught her breath and the ship was beginning to pull away from the dock, she pointed an accusing finger at Bartolomeo. "What exactly was that about?"
He shrugged shifting the torn flag off of his shoulder. "I told you we were going to be leaving in three hours-dabe."
"And what if I hadn't been back?!" she demanded.
Bartolomeo just shrugged again, clearly holding a scrap of paper in his other hand.
"Then why the hell didn't you-"
The man unfurled the flag to reveal a skull with three red slashes through one eye. Vetica could feel the blood drain from her face. The grin on his face was radiant. There was not even the slightest hint of any emotion other than pride.
With a loud groan she fell back onto the deck.
"You stole Shank's flag... there's no denying the disrespect now... You stole an emperor's flag," she sighed.
"Of course-dabe!" He pronounced, holding the torn flag over his heart. "We must reclaim the seas in the name of Luffy-senpai!"
Vetica bolted upright suddenly fueled by frustration. "But he isn't yet! Why do you insist on having a death wish-!"
A large hand clamped over her mouth, and the young woman looked up to see Gambia, firmly frowning down at her. She glanced at Bartolomeo who was staring wide-eyed at her. He cleared his throat and stood. He cleared his throat.
"I uh- should hang this on the altar-dabe." He stuttered, as he began to lumber off.
Gambia slowly released Vetica's from his grip. A twinge of discomfort gnawed at the corner of her heart as she watched her friend walk away. She wanted to call out to him, to stop him, but a part of her knew that now was not a time he wanted to be near her.
There was shove on her shoulder.
"Sheesh, stop looking so obviously disappointed," Gambia grumbled. "You're gonna have to be a lot tougher if you wanna make it as a member of this crew."
She snorted. "So I'm a member now..."
He gave her an affectionate slap on the back, and gap-toothed smile. "Welcome to the Club."