I don't own anything but my ideas.

Crepuscular

Zoro's head felt like someone had deliberately placed it under the front tires of a semi and proceeded to then run it over with every set of tires. And then lead a team of horses to trample over his insides, and monkeys to tear and claw at his skin and ants to eat at his muscles and snakes to slither up inside his bone marrow. His eyeballs were screaming to burst out of his skull and relieve some of the pressure—his sight be damned. He couldn't even work up the effort to groan in pain, and honestly the thought of moving even that much scared him. He didn't know it was possible to be in so much pain.

He fought the dark shiver in the back of his throat, hilariously and pathetically unaccustomed to being so debilitated. Sanji had probably survived a thousand times worse than this and come out only as an asshole; he would be fine.

But still, he could feel pain in muscles hidden under bones that he was pretty sure were atrophied because they were never used. He felt pain in places he didn't know existed. There was a little spot in his brain behind the top of his ear that he had never considered having nerve ending there, and yet that little spot was wailing for some sort of relief. Any sort of relief.

The notion of putting a hammer through that little spot in his skull didn't sound so horrible. Maybe it would relieve the pressure.

Idly he wondered how many times Sanji had contemplated death like this.

Almost as a joke his eyes drifted open so he could find something to bludgeon himself with. Almost a joke. That little spot was in hysterics. With his eyes open, however, his other senses started to kick in now that his brain wasn't being marinated in more pain than he'd ever known.

"No, he—no, I already said, he ran off so I followed him but I only found—yeah, I only found him… No, he had to be going after Zoro… He had to be, he looked so worried."

That was Nami.

"Tell him how injured Sanji looked," Brook murmured into her ear. "There's no way he could have thought he could run off like that and get far."

"I mean, I guess he could have been running, but I found Zoro in the same direction. He would have stopped, there's no way he would have been able to run by… Two minutes! He couldn't have been longer than that, and I know he runs fast, but I didn't see blood on the ground, footprints, scuffs in the dirt, nothing."

The whir of the wheels against the road was unmistakable, he could tell they were in some sort of vehicle heading home; it was the lack of other sound that threw him off. If it weren't for Chopper's tiny form—that he could now see—hovering over his body, he would have thought Kuma lied and he was hallucinating and they weren't driving home at all—

Kuma.

"WHERE'S LUFFY?!" Zoro roared, a pathetic attempt at launching himself up off of the cot foiled when a herd of stinging nettles traversed up his spine the second he moved, and then tangoed their way out all of his limbs and he screamed, head dropping back. It felt like hours later when the exploding light bulbs in his head died down enough that he could hear Chopper's frantic screaming, trying to keep him from moving again.

No worries, Chopper, definitely not doing that again any time soon.

"Luffy's ok! He's fine, he's ok! Kuma didn't touch him—I don't even know why, but Luffy's fine, I promise! You have to stop moving!"

"Better do as the doc says, Bro," Franky spoke up from the front, not taking his eyes off the road to say this. "Luffy's been out since we got him in the truck, he's going to be in a lot of pain and we'd rather not wake him before we get home to Law; Chopper only has so much morphine and you're going to need some of that."

Zoro's head rolled over as Franky said this, Zoro gritting his teeth through the wrenching of every muscle, tendon, skin fiber—everything in his neck—and his eyes settled on Luffy. Luffy's young, innocent, wounded face. But his expression was calm. Luffy's expression was never hurt, no matter how hurt the rest of his body was. It made Zoro's heart rate slow enough that he would have even been able to go back to sleep.

—No, wait.

Zoro rolled his head back over carefully, eyes surveying the truck and everyone in it. Immediately his mind started counting. Seven. Minus Robin. They were missing one.

"Where's Sanji?"

And there was the silence in the cab again.

He didn't realize how much he'd gotten used to not having the silence.

He hated it.

Sanji's consciousness snapped back like someone had thrown a light switch. He didn't even have to open his eyes for everything he needed to know about his environment to register in his brain.

Head hurt. No bone fractures. No lasting brain damage. No pain in eyes. No lasting physical damage. Bright lights. Florescent bulbs. Sterile smell. Plastic bed sheets. No covers. Quiet voices. No lingering drowsiness or disorientation. Sedation completely metabolized. Twelve voices. Eight male, four female. Ranging between four and fifteen feet away. Echoing—closed exits. Stale air—no windows. Small steps—not much space to move.

But before he could continue, his fingers twitched involuntarily and feeling shot back up his arm and through the rest of his body, and he was suddenly very aware of something else.

There was an IV in his arm.

Sanji's body spasmed with a shiver so violent that it threw him up off the bed like he'd been raised with demonic possession. He barely registered the startled screams around him as he let out his own howl, scrambling back away from the IV and tearing frantically at the needle in his arm, ripping deep gouges into his skin. Sanji screamed frantically, finally hooking his nails under the tape holding the needle into his arm. Every millimeter of steel as cold as liquid nitrogen was like an eel sliding out of his body, and his hand wailed to throw the IV as far away as he could while his muscles stayed paralyzed, unable to let go of the needle, and Sanji was left staring in horror at the clear liquid dripping from the tip—God knows what had been going into his system.

The flap of a white coat out of the corner of his eye ripped another scream from his throat and his ears came back online, registering the screams of the doctors, calling for different doses of all different medications, what seemed like dozens of people running at him, all holding needles in their hands. Sanji's body reacted instantly. He threw the IV as hard as he could at the doctors, and the cord caught the IV bag and took the whole stand with it, flying over his shoulder and crashing into the three closest to him and knocking them back harshly to the floor. Sanji's one good eye, glowing a blinding iridescent blue under the florescent lights, followed the syringes as they spun out of the doctors' hands and across the floor, spurting liquid as they went.

Sanji's leg shot up, snapping the head of the doctor that had gotten close back and sending him flying, and then ten sets of hands landed on him, trying to pin him back to the bed. Sanji's eye bled black, his fangs extending in a fraction of a section as he lunged for the arm closest to his face, making the doctor scream and yank her hand back, just barely out of the way.

Sanji's eye snapped open, going from black back to blue in a instant as he felt the stiff steel invading his body again as someone jabbed a needle into his upper arm, and then the sickeningly warm liquid as it flooded into his muscles and up into his chest, fogging up his lungs.

He couldn't remember what happened next. His body didn't need any commands from his brain to know to protect him. When he came to again, maybe seconds, maybe minutes later, he was face down in a desolated room as his arms and legs fought to get him back into an upright position against the sedation. Broken glass sliced into his palms and knees from the smashed hospital equipment, the bed was overturned, all of the stands and drawers had been thrown clear of their original location and punched holes in the walls so deep he'd reached cement several inches of plaster under. All of the doctors that were still conscious, many of them bleeding profusely, many holding broken limbs to their sides, were cowering up against the walls, as far away from Sanji as they could be in the tiny room.

Sanji shivered again, falling over onto his side and scrabbling pathetically at the cold tiles to get himself back up. He could feel the sedative wearing off as his body metabolized it. But it wasn't wearing off fast enough.

One of the doctors took a step towards him and Sanji let out a sound somewhere between a snarl and a shriek, fighting to get him as far away from them as he could. He only needed another minute and then he'd be fine—just another minute—

"Sanji. Sanji Blackleg," the doctor said, so gingerly that Sanji stopped, confused by the lack of aggression or hurry in his voice.

"Sanji, stop, we're not going to hurt you. I'm sorry we sedated you; you wouldn't have listened otherwise. Stop, please, no one here wants to hurt you."

His forehead was still pressed against the floor, a fifth point of stability along with his hands and knees, and as he lifted it to try and look more clearly at the doctor he lost his balance, hands slipping out from under him and his head cracked back against the floor. A couple doctor's looked like they wanted to reach out and help him, but ultimately thought better of it and stayed where they were. Only the doctor that had spoken to Sanji was brave enough to keep coming forward. Sanji fought the rising bile and the violent shivers in his spine as the white coat advanced, forcing himself to hear him out.

"We don't want to hurt you. You're not hungry, right? You've been out for a long time and you were bleeding a lot when they brought you in, but we gave you an IV, so you should be fine. Tell us if you want more, we have plenty in store."

Hungry? He wasn't hungry. But he should have been, after Absalom and Kuma.

And Zoro.

Sanji reached under him where his knees were still holding his hips off of the ground, fingering his side tenderly where his shattered ribs were putting themselves back into place. They still hurt. Damn, the fucker hit hard when he wanted to.

Sanji swallowed heavily, not even fighting the liquid collecting in his eyes as it overflowed and dripped onto the floor under him.

"Sanji, do you remember anything?"

He didn't think his voice would have worked to answer even if he wanted to.

"Some of Doflamingo's men saw you get kidnapped and followed the truck. We traced the license plate back to a government official, so they broke you out and brought you here. Do you remember the people that attacked you?"

Blood oozed from it seemed Zoro's every pore, thick bruises and slices and stab wounds and brunt traumas and every single injury that wouldn't reach deep enough to hit the swordsman's bones marred his skin and flesh.

"We figured you were an NSPH because they sent CP9 after you—please," he cut in as Sanji flinched again, fingers curling into fists at the mention of his NSPH status, "We're not here to hurt you. Doflamingo has been working with rescued NSPH for years, trying to develop a cure for the virus. Three months ago you were kidnapped by the same team of mercenaries and Marshall Teach intercepted the truck. He was bringing you to Doflamingo's research facility, which masquerades as a slave house so any investigations won't be looking for medical facilities, for safe keeping until the drugs in your system wore off and you healed. Shanks' team got ahold of you at some point, and after we tracked down your location and saw that you were in no danger, so we stayed back because the less attention we drew to you, the more likely it was that you wouldn't be found. Unfortunately, CP9 is very good at their jobs. Doflamingo has been working on proposing a collaboration with Shanks, we just recently discovered that Law and Kid's son is an NSPH as well, and with the hospital here, we think they could do a lot of good together."

…Marshall Teach? Sanji couldn't remember if that name had ever been mentioned before. Zeff had talked about Doflamingo before, a little, the two had never liked each other but Sanji didn't remember any real issues, but Teach wasn't a name he recognized. CP9 was new too.

"CP9 is a group of hired hands to track down just such people as you," another doctor spoke up, finally getting her nerve to stand back up, even though she was still holding her arm tenderly at her side. Inwardly, Sanji winced that he'd been the one to cause that damage, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on it. "We weren't fast enough to stop them from attacking you, but we did manage to stop the truck before—as far as we can tell—they got a message out that they had you again, so no one governmental should be looking for you at this point. And then you were brought straight here."

"Doflamingo is on his way now, but…" That was the first doctor again, "we've been instructed to tell you that you are under no obligation to stay."

Sanji sucked in a shaky breath, unaware that he'd been holding it for the past minute, more tears falling from his eyes as he curled in on himself slowly, bringing his shins to the ground so that he could push himself into a kneeling position, still holding his twinging side gently. The doctors were silent around him, waiting for him to speak.

"…Where am I?" he murmured finally.

Do you have something to write it down?

"Yup," Nami nodded, placing her pen back in her pocket and lifting up the piece of paper so the passing car headlights illuminated the phone number intermittently. Shank's direct number was almost always a no-no, sort of for respect, sort of to keep from bothering him with lackey bullshit, mostly because he hated his phone, but no one had stopped Nami from dialing him the second they were out of range of any satellite dishes Moriah might have set up. "Who is it?"

…She goes by Miss All Sunday.

"Goes by?" Brook spoke up, leaning into the phone. Name put her hand on his forehead and shoved to try and push him away.

Yes, and you can only call her that. For safety concerns. But you'll recognize her voice, I promise.

Nami sighed, running a hand over her eyes, not really ready to put up with roundabout underground mannerisms just for the hell of it. "All right. Fine."

They were pulled off to the side of the highway in order to get Shanks' opinion on their current missing person. Shanks had given them a number to call, which belonged to some brilliant hacker friend of his that was the most likely person to be able to help them find Sanji. God knows how, though.

Shanks didn't think Sanji had run (and even though Zoro knew he wouldn't, it was still a huge relief to hear him actually say it. One word from Shanks and if Zoro didn't want to have to follow orders and hunt him down, he'd have to defect and get the fuck away to even have a hope of staying alive for longer than a couple of days), especially after Zoro had to tell him that Sanji tried to reveal his NSPH status to Kuma to keep the rest of them safe. And for whatever reason, Shanks believed that Kuma kept his promises, which meant he wouldn't have touched anyone else from the crew. Apparently he'd known Kuma pretty well before he'd become a government dog.

Zoro hadn't told any of them what Kuma had done to him. He was going to tell Shanks later, but he didn't want to have that conversation right now with him incapacitated in bed and Nami holding out the phone for him. Chopper had asked, but Zoro had told him that he fought Kuma so Luffy wouldn't have to and that was a good enough response to not merit any other questions, so it hadn't been brought up again.

Are you all set?

"Yeah," Nami said dejectedly. "I'll call you if this… Miss All Sunday doesn't pick up."

She will. That's the phone I use to contact her, she always has it on her.

"Thanks," Nami murmured before hanging up and flipping the phone shut. She held the device up to her lips for a moment, her eyes closed and her breathing still. Zoro's insides twitched, and he was about to scream at her to hurry the fuck up because for all they knew Sanji's brains were stewing in sedatives while he was being trucked to some slave house or research facility miles out of the area, but she flipped the phone back open and dialed, her fingers a blur, before holding the receiver up to her ear. A tiny ring echoed out from the phone and Nami pulled it away from her ear and pressed the speakerphone button so the static-y sound rang out into the truck.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then a small click on the end of the line.

Nami blinked, looking up around at everyone in confusion as no one answered. Had they hung up?

"…Hello?" she tried unsurely.

Nothing.

Zoro's teeth clenched. Shanks had no other ideas aside from this woman. If she couldn't help them…

"…Miss All Sunday?" Nami tried again.

…Yes?

Zoro's heart rate took off like a rocket, Chopper and Brook clapping their hands over their mouths to keep from squealing in happiness. Nami's head dropped into her hands in relief and Franky let out a bark of laughter, followed by Usopp clapping him happily on his shoulder. Zoro's head dropped back onto the bed and he took a second to breath to himself, smiling into the darkness of the cab.

It was so good to hear Robin's voice.

"R—Miss All Sunday," Nami breathed into the phone, a grin splitting her face. "It's—"

I know who it is, Robin cut her off, keeping her from saying any names out loud. How… How did you get this number?

"Um," Nami paused, not exactly sure how to answer the question. "Uh… Riding hood gave it to me."

Red riding hood. For Shanks.

I see. It must be bad then.

"Don't worry, I'm going to destroy the phone after."

I know. I'm not worried.

Zoro could hear the sad smile in her voice and it made his heart twist. All he wanted was one of her uncomfortable hugs. They both sucked so much at it.

It had been months since anyone aside from Shanks had talked to Robin, ever since she'd gone into hiding. None of them knew anything about her situation except for the fact that the number they had for her before had been disconnected and she'd left no forwarding address. Most of the relief, Zoro suspected, came from the proof of knowing she was alive. None of them had been very sure of that for a long time. Even when Robin was running for a year outside Shanks' territory to learn more about computer software and programming, she'd always had a cellphone that she changed every couple of weeks. They'd always been able to call her in an emergency. Now, even that was too dangerous. And it seemed only she and Shanks knew why, and it seemed like only Shanks would know if she ended up dead.

Why did he give you this number?

Nami relayed what had happened, all the way from the start of the fight to where they were at that moment sitting on the side of the road, the only light coming from the cars speeding by. Robin listened silently, not asking any questions, not needing clarification on anything, even when Nami missed some small details that would have thrown off the timeline in Zoro's mind. He guessed that the exact timeline wasn't one of Robin's main concerns. Sanji was missing. Only those moments were important; that was how Robin's brain worked.

Did you see any security cameras around?

"…Uh…" Nami looked up blankly to everyone else, who all shrugged in turn. That had been the last thing on their mind.

"I mean… I would assume so, right?" Franky said idly, running a hand through his hair. "It's Moriah. He's all sorts of paranoid. If he didn't have security cameras outside it would have probably meant he had guards stationed everywhere so he would know every step that everyone made in his area."

Tapping echoed up from over the phone and they all waited silently.

…I think I may have found something, Robin said quietly, like she'd leaned away from the phone. I see Marimo—

A sharp intake of breath crackled through the speaker and Zoro froze, realizing with a start that Robin was watching him with Kuma. She was watching Kuma give him every ounce of pain that Luffy had felt, and was watching him fall—nearly dead—afterwards. Chopper hadn't said anything about his state when he'd been found, so that meant that it was bad.

"What?!" Nami barked when Robin stayed silent, her fingers twitching with a painful need to do something, but there was nothing they could do. At this point, every single thing had been taken out of their hands. They could literally do nothing but sit in their bubble of anticipation and anxiety.

I… Robin said finally, her voice strained. Zoro swallowed heavily, closing his eyes and praying for her not to say anything. I, uh, I found it… I'm sending you the video portion. There's no audio.

Zoro's head snapped up and he winced at the painful crack in his neck, just glad that Chopper was staring too intently at Nami's phone where its pathetically tiny screen was trying to load the video. He froze, waiting for the white circle to stop spinning, but when the video finally started, he was already lying on the ground soaked in blood. Kuma was nowhere to be seen. His heart relaxed unconsciously and he dropped back to the seat, breathing heavily, surprised and angry at how much energy the reaction had taken out of him.

"What… why are you so far from where we were?" Usopp asked timidly, looking back at him, but Zoro just shook his head and nodded back at the video, waiting until Usopp turned back to the phone.

They could see a little moving blur at the bottom of the screen counting the time, but the pixels were too unfocused to read what it actually was. It was playing faster than real time though, because when Sanji came racing into the picture—even with his speed—he was moving entirely too fast.

They watched him all drop to his knees over Zoro's body, frantically searching for something he could do before he suddenly stood up and tried to run back the way he came, only to have someone drop down from the roof in front of him and attack him. And then another, and another. One dropped landed on the ground inches from Zoro's head and tried to nudge him with his foot, making the hair on the back of Zoro's neck stand up. He'd been in such a vulnerable situation.

Sanji was like a viper, lunging forward so fast the camera almost couldn't keep up with him. He'd been inches from the man's throat when another had appeared out of nowhere and kicked him so hard he'd smashed back into the wall of the building behind him, fragments of the wall raining down around him.

They were relentless, barely giving Sanji enough time to hit the ground before they were at his side. The man's foot smashed down into Sanji's spine and Zoro's insides curdled as he watched the man, as Sanji was still spitting up blood from the last hit, heave him up by his collar and kick him straight across the face so his head smashed back into the wall, and then again into Sanji's side, exactly where Zoro had hit him. Zoro's lips pinched together and he bit down on his tongue.

He'd done that. That man had just exacerbated what he'd done.

Sanji lashed out in a desperate attempt, his form far from his normal caliber and the man jumped back easily as Sanji stumbled. Sanji was so exhausted from everything that had happened before. Zoro hadn't even seen Sanji wincing in pain from his body healing him, which probably had meant that he wasn't healing at all. Without consuming blood, his body had no fuel to run off of.

The woman landed in front of him again and threw some sort of powder in his eyes, making him fall back against the wall behind him in an attempt to get away as he scrubbed at his face, and the one with stupidly long hair landed next to him and yanked a burlap sack over him in the same moment. Sanji kicked out again, missing horribly, and the one with long hair grabbed the stick on his back and cracked Sanji across the head and he dropped, Zoro laying no more than three feet away from him.

The whole thing had taken less than two minutes.

They milled about for a couple seconds, almost as if waiting for Sanji to change his mind and pop back up to attack them, before the woman suddenly looked up at the roof and they all scattered, the long-haired one throwing Sanji over his shoulder before the took off into the shadows, and Nami raced on screen, hovering frantically over Zoro just like Sanji had done before she sprinted back off screen, no doubt for Chopper.

"Can… can you follow them on more cameras?" Nami asked stiffly, her hand still tight over her mouth.

I'm trying, you should be getting the next few clips now.

These ones were shorter because they were running. Zoro had lost track long ago of where they were in the location sense, but he was sure it made sense to someone in the truck with them. Robin sent them four videos of them running before they finally reached a car and a truck parked off in a tiny alley. Some jumped into the car while the one carrying Sanji jammed a huge needle into his neck before tossing him in the back of their truck, and then both vehicles took off.

I'm tracking the license plate, Robin said before any of them could ask. I couldn't find it in any records, so they've never been pulled over or investigated, but both vehicles are registered to someone named Spandam, who works in the government if the firewalls and other security fighting me say anything.

A chill ran through the truck, Chopper and Usopp swallowing heavily and moving to hold each other. Zoro clenched his eyes shut, images of Sanji's broken expression as he told Zoro about Zeff's leg and how they'd both almost starved to death in that room, not to mention the experimenting they'd done on Sanji before Zeff had gotten there. They'd had to uproot their lives entirely after breaking out, and had been on the run and in hiding for years after leaving, and after all that it still meant nothing. They had Sanji again.

"I got used to hiding out at home, I'll get used to it here. …This is better than any facility. I'll die before I go back."

They'd failed him.

Zoro's eyes burned and tears soaked up into his vision, making the world blur over before the searing liquid spilled over. He was so glad everyone was looking at the phone.

And on the phone the video clip of the car and the truck speeding off was playing on repeat, taunting them with their uselessness as they waited for Robin to find something else.

Zoro could feel the anger boiling up inside of him. The poisonous hate. His fists clenched under the bandages and he could feel the dangerous pull on his stiches. If he'd just been stronger. If he'd just kept from passing out. If he'd just realized what Moriah was planning. If he'd just been stronger—!

I'm really sorry, their security system is quite good, Robin broke the silence. The newer programs always take longer to get through, but his files are all under top security. They must be working with a lot of NSPH in order to get this much security clearance. I'm going to try looking up some more casual things. I saw a cabin in the woods registered to his name when I was searching the license plates.

"Ok," Nami whispered, her voice sad and weak. It made the painful anger boil more ferociously in Zoro's chest. He'd never actually blame her, but the logical part of his brain wouldn't stop screaming that if she and Usopp hadn't run off for the trucks they would have had two more people to fight Kuma—

No. It wasn't their fault. He knew that. And Sanji was already gone, there was no changing that. Now there was only fixing it.

I found a couple of things, Robin said suddenly, and everyone's heads popped back up from where they'd all been swept up in their own thoughts. Zoro had a feeling much of it was along the same lines of what was going through his head.

There isn't much, only a couple articles in newspapers from five years ago until now, all recounting various promotions, so he's in a pretty high position now. More articles on his achievements, "protecting" the citizens of certain cities, although they don't really list the names of the security threats that he neutralized.

No one had to ask what that meant. NSPH accidents or escapes.

There's also an old factory under his care that used to be used for weapons manufacturing but was shut down when production got to be too big for the facility and they moved manufacturing. He still owns the factory. I'm sending you the picture now.

Nami placed the phone on the front seat and everyone craned in to get a good look at it once it loaded, but no one looked for more than a second once it had come in, all pulling back to share a nervous look, preparing themselves for what they knew was coming.

The photo was an old black and white picture with water stains and tears around the edges where someone had cut it sloppily out of a newspaper. Someone must have uploaded it at some point. The factory in the picture was situated on the side of a river, a large waterwheel connected to its closest wall. The foundation was crumbling away against the ground, ruined by the onslaught of water over the years. The rest of the building wasn't fairing much better. Only a few windows survived, the rest were smashed in or boarded over. Panels of the walls and roof shingles had come loose, leaving gaping holes in the structure where stray vines had wormed their way into the building and back out of the roof when they stretched back up for the sun. The fence surrounding the premises had given way long ago, some parts of it rotten, some torn in by various trespassers over the years.

It couldn't have looked more like an old abandoned hospital or mental ward unless there was a sign littered with vines and peeling paint that read "keep away."

Zoro had an eel as cold as an ice pick working its way further and further up from his stomach and into his heart. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, shrugging away Chopper's nervous hand that came to rest on his shoulder. The fact that Chopper didn't press him meant that he wasn't doing a good job at all of hiding how nauseous he felt and goose bumps prickled across his skin at the thought. He leaned forward and breathed evenly for a moment, counting his breaths and willing his nerves to stop sending signals to his brain. He couldn't be in pain right now.

Franky was the first to regain some composure, and ran a hand slowly over his eyes before saying, "So what do we do? We can't just rush into this."

Zoro's response was like a snake, lashing out before he could even think about what he was saying. "Well we can't just sit here with our heads up our asses." It made Chopper jump slightly next to him, but he couldn't give less of a shit at the moment if he tried. "We have to hurry before they ship him off somewhere else, because they're not going to wait for us to come find him."

Franky eyed him carefully, not exactly sure how to answer. Zoro must have looked like a demon to get the older man to keep from saying anything. Normally he was fine to quell anyone.

"We have no idea if they've actually taken him there," Zoro continued, his voice thick and venomous. His grip tightened on the seat under him, making the springs creak. "And we can't waste the time waiting before we go. If we don't find him then we have to keep looking and we'll need all the time we have for that."

Nami's face looked queasy, and her fingers were twitching every couple of seconds as she fought to keep from wringing them. "…We really need Miss All Sunday," she murmured after a moment towards the phone, and a sigh rose up from the speaker after another second.

Someone come and get me. Her voice was tired, like she'd been up for the last couple of days with a colicky baby.

"Give me an address," Franky said immediately, cranking the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

"No!" Chopper jumped, like he'd suddenly remembered what his job was. "Luf—err, Rubberman has to be brought back! He needed serious medical attention, like, four hours ago! I can't do anything else for him here but keep him asleep, and I can't even do that for much longer! When he wakes up he's going to be in more pain than he's ever been in!"

"…Alright, we'll have to split up," Franky said decidedly, his expression set in one of someone who was about to go to war. "We'll drive back to that car rental place we passed a couple miles back. Skeleton can rent another car and take Rubberman and, uh, Raccoon back. I'll do the same and go get Miss All Sunday."

"Am I "raccoon"?!" Chopper shrieked, horrified. "Why?!"

"Understood," Brook nodded, his voice resolute.

"What about me?!" Usopp shrieked, realizing with a start that that meant he would be the one driving the truck to the hospital. "I—I just remembered that I have severe carpal tunnel in my wrist—or I didn't just remember, it's acting up now from the fight back there! I—I—I can't turn the wheel enough, we could get into—"

"Longnose!" Nami screamed, making him yelp and cower back in his seat. She sighed, her voice suddenly much calmer when she spoke again. "…San… Cook really needs us right now. All of us. Um, Robot has to go get Miss All Sunday because he can get there the fastest, and, uh, Skeleton knows the back roads around here because he originally came from Moriah's territory and can get Rubberman home the fastest, but that means that we need the most courageous one of us to drive the truck. …I have to go inside with Marimo and help him find Cook—because like hell we're letting him get lost in that place, so we need you to take the wheel and stay with the truck. Please?"

Usopp was quiet for a moment, and then suddenly stood (with a slight crick in his neck in order to accommodate the low ceiling of the truck) and puffed out his chest. "Alright," he breathed, "You can count on me."

I will call Riding Hood, Robin cut in suddenly. So he knows what's going on and isn't surprised when we all turn up dead. You all need to concentrate on this. He can tell the legal system to get the hospital set up.

"I…" Chopper spoke up and everyone looked back to him. He shifted between his feet nervously. "I… I think, Skeleton, you should take Rubberman back by yourself. He's stable now and… I need to be there if we find Cook. And for Marimo—I'm still not ok with you charging into this in your state, but we can't really do anything about that. But you have to be aware that you're really injured!" he barked suddenly, rounding on Zoro. "You can't charge into a fight and hurt yourself more, because most likely any more injuries will just knock you unconscious! Your body is already running on adrenaline, and once that wears off, you are going to be in serious pain!"

Oh good. The pain was going to get worse.

Swell. He nodded anyways.

"Ok," Nami nodded, collecting all of the information in her head. "Franky, let's go,"—he nodded as she said this and revved the engine, pulling the truck back onto the road—"Skeleton will rent a car and take Rubberman home. Robot will go get Miss All Sunday in another rental. Longnose is driving the rest of us to the factory, and once Robot has… his cargo, you both will come meet us there."

Everyone nodded and Nami said her goodbyes to Robin, slipping the phone into her pocket after she was done. She turned after a moment and gave Zoro an unsure look, but he turned away, refusing to meet her eyes, and she eventually faced the road again, the muscles in her back tight and nervous.

"…This is a hospital not far outside Moriah's territory," the first doctor spoke up again, "that's why we could get to you so quickly, and thank god, or you'd be in the hands of the government right now."

A wash of nauseating cold swept over Sanji like a slap across the face from a Rhino's horn and he tipped forward, emptying the already depleted contents of his stomach onto the ground in front of him.

He was in captivity for 357 years being passed from government to government, but we have no way of knowing how long before that he was born.

The doctors around him waited patiently, not saying anything while he coughed, his stomach lurching violently long past when he had nothing left to throw up.

"…Sanji," the first doctor started again once he'd finished, "Doflamingo's scientist have been working with, not on, NSPH for decades, keeping them hidden and safe, trying to find cures, inventing synthetic blood so you don't have to attack anyone to eat… ultimately we're working towards a cure, but honestly, that looks like it is still far off in the future. At this point we're focusing on the healing properties of the virus, trying to isolate it for the general population. Imagine a world with no worries about freak accidents because your body will heal, a world with no major illnesses, no lasting or crippling pain… And the people infected with this version of the virus wouldn't have to drink blood because it doesn't attack the red blood cells."

It didn't… not make sense. And they weren't attacking him, or trying to sedate him again. And he wasn't already locked up or tied down or chained. The sedation was entirely out of his system at this point. If he wanted, he could have killed them all and bolted on the spot. But something, maybe the tone of the doctor's voice, was holding him there in the center of the room. His stomach lurched again involuntarily and a third doctor stood, picking up a plastic cup and a closed pitcher of water that hadn't been destroyed in Sanji's blind panic. He stayed there unsurely for a minute before pouring a glass of water and stepping slowly over to Sanji's side.

Sanji's eye flicked up as the doctor kneeled, offering the glass out to him, but Sanji had known too many manipulative doctors to trust that there wasn't anything in the water—until the doctor seemed to realize this and took a large and obvious gulp of the water himself before offering it back to Sanji.

"He can still have water," Chopper insisted, pouring Sanji a glass from the plastic pitcher on the counter. Law sighed, relenting and letting Chopper dote over his patient before they continued; it wasn't like they were in a hurry or anything. Chopper clambered back up onto the bed, trying but not really succeeding at keeping all of the water in the glass. He offered the glass to Sanji, who's lip curled back uncomfortably and Chopper suddenly realized that he probably thought the water was spiked. He brought the glass to his lips, taking a long and obvious sip before offering the glass back to Sanji. Sanji eyed in again for a moment, but finally decided that it wasn't worth the dehydration and reached out carefully, taking the glass without ever touching Chopper's fingers, and drained it slowly.

Sanji's bottom lip quivered, eyes filling up again and spilling over as he reached out and took the glass, sipping at the cold liquid slowly and shivering as it rushed into his overheating body and still-lurching stomach. His lungs spasmed and he hiccupped pathetically, offering the glass back as he reached up with his free hand and swiped across his eyes. He doctor poured him another glass and Sanji finished that one faster, setting the glass at his side when he was done. He could see the doctor's fascination in his eyes, looking Sanji up and down over and over like an obsessive fan, eternally grateful to be as close as he was to such a dangerous creature. Offering Sanji water and having him accept it must have felt like touching the back of a cobra's head.

"…I want to leave."

The doctors passed a look around the room again, obviously disappointed but not about to go against their orders.

"…We'd really suggest that you stay. We're not going to force you, but you're still injured and it would be much better if you gave yourself even a couple of days to heal—"

"I want to leave," Sanji said again, no change in tone in his voice.

Zoro was out there. Sanji gritted his teeth behind his lips. If the motherfucker had let Bartholomew Kuma kill him Sanji was going to dig him up and grind his bones up like a crazy person.

"…We can arrange transport for you," the first doctor spoke up again, his voice quieter now, relenting. "Back to Shanks' territory or to a common meeting point if you'd like. We can get you a telephone so you can get in contact with people. …Will you eat at least before you go? So you're not starving as well as injured. Any extra blood in your system will help you heal faster."

Sanji nodded slowly and moved to stand, allowing the doctor that poured him the glass of water to lead him back over to the bed so he could sit. The doctors began milling around, some collecting dropped papers before they left the room, some leaving right away, others lingering around for as long as they could to watch the specimen in action.

"You have free reign of the hospital," the second doctor said on her way out, her hand on the door. "We'll leave the door open so you can leave whenever you'd like, but please don't feel like you have to be out as fast as you can be." And then she vanished through the doorway.

The doctor that had given him a glass of water was searching through the overturned drawers spread across the room and finally came up with a bag of blood, crossing the room to join the other remaining doctor. He held the bag out and Sanji reached up slowly, feeling the thick, cold liquid sifting around in the bag and across his fingers as it moved. His arms lowered and the plastic came to rest on his legs, where his eyes zeroed in on blood that had stained his pants and dyed the knee caps almost solid red, even through the blue of the cloth.

Zoro's blood.

He had to go.

"Thank you," he murmured, and then brought the bag up to his lips, resting his fangs carefully against the thin bubble before pressing down slightly, and he cut through the plastic, blood rushing out into his mouth. He waited for a second before swallowing as his taste buds sifted through the cells floating around in his mouth, and then, not tasting or smelling anything out of the ordinary, he began to drink. The two doctors nodded, one of them turning for the door, but the other still looked like he had something he wanted to say.

"…Doflamingo can really help you," the doctor said finally. "You don't have to stay, but we would like to contact you in the future for our research."

Sanji said nothing. The only sound after that was the quiet slurping as the blood drained slowly from the bag like depleting water levels out of a sponge. Sanji's eye hadn't left the red on his knees. The doctor nodded finally before following the other one out of the room. Sanji's gaze snapped up as they reached the door, his muscles tightening, ready to lunge if it started to close, but they left it open just like they said they would, so he turned back to his meal.

Marshall Teach, huh? Had he heard the name before?

The blood was washing throughout his system already, cleansing out the cold from the needles that was still prickling up and down his arms, dulling the chilled water sitting stagnantly in his stomach and weighing him down. He pulled back from the plastic with a deep intake of air after he'd finished and placed it on the bedside next to him, resting his hands on the bed for a moment as he waited for the blood to circulate all the way out through the tiniest capillaries in his fingers and toes. He tipped his head back, breathing in and out slowly, listening for sounds outside the room but getting nothing, so he allowed himself to relax. It would be better if his heart wasn't accelerated with fresh blood in his system, before his veins and arteries stretched a bit to accommodate the new volume.

He stomach lurched again and Sanji grunted, leaning in on himself, brows furrowing in confusion at the sudden and strong tightness all throughout his gut. He reached up with one hand and massaged his middle gently, trying to get his stomach to settle. He shouldn't have drunk so fast, but the tightness was subsiding already; he would be able to go in a minute.

His eyes kept drifting back to the blood stains on his knees, and no matter how many times he looked away he was unable to keep his mind on anything other than the sight of Zoro lying there in the street, face down in a pool of blood that couldn't have been anyone else's but his own. The thought pushed him to his feet even though his stomach clenched painfully again, and he gritted his teeth, holding onto the bedframe for a second until his muscles relaxed.

He took a slow breath, straightening up and pushing away from the bed and stumbled slightly, blinking in confusion as his peripheral vision swam. He held his arms out to steady himself but his stomach locked again and he lurched forward, falling into the bed before he crashed awkwardly on the floor.

"Shit," he snarled, reaching up for the bed to pull himself back up. "Son of—"

Something sliced through his bottom lip and Sanji yelped, hand snapping down to his mouth where he instantly punctured his index finger on an extended fang. His extended fang.

"…Wha…?" Sanji started, eyeing the thick drop of blood running down his finger as the cut healed in lightning fast speed in front of him, his entire field of vision blurring dangerously to the point of blackness before it came back again. Sanji reached in carefully, running his fingers over the piercing sharpness of all four of his fangs, for some reason extended, his gums twinging as the tender skin stretched.

Sanji grunted again, grabbing onto his middle as wrenching hunger tore through him, a feral growl rolling off of his tongue without his authorization.

What the fuck was happening?

"H-Hey…" Sanji called out, turning back to the open door. Someone would hear him down the hall; they were all too fascinated, they couldn't have gone far. "Hey—ahh!"

He doubled over, a strained groan drowned out by the ferocious rumbling in his stomach. Ravenous hunger was working its way through his body and Sanji's chest heaved, tongue lolling out as his mouth went dry, lips cracking and only making them more susceptible to being cut by his fangs.

His head felt like lead, and the next time his vision swam, his equilibrium was so off that he dropped like a stone, his right cheek connecting with the ground first. Sanji snarled, shoving himself back up as his eyes continued to blur over, entirely unaware that his nails had grown into claws that were digging scratches into the tiles under him, bruise fading like it could be washed from his body with water.

"Hey!" he screamed at the door, everything in front of him flashing between black and blurry and making his head explode in searing pain. His lungs were heavy and the fire in his stomach was eating him alive. It was the closest thing he'd felt to starvation since Zeff had rescued him, and the thought was making him panic. He'd just had a pint of blood!

"Help!" he yelled, his voice overcome with snarls that he didn't understand why he was making. There was nothing wrong! "Hey! Help!"

The world tipped in front of him, and Sanji found himself back on the ground before he felt his muscles give up on him, his hand reaching for the door even though he didn't remember telling it to do so. Flames raced up and down his limbs, soaking through his veins and he gasped for breath, smothered under the heat his skin was giving off. His vision was steadily getting darker and darker.

"H-help… he… help…"

Outside the door, the first doctor poked his head around the doorframe, notating what he was seeing quietly on the clipboard against his hip. He nodded to the second doctor and she pulled a small phone from her pocket, flipping it open and pressing the "1" button before she held it up to her ear.

Did you give it to him?

"Yes," she whispered. The serum was probably affecting him enough that he wouldn't hear her at this point, but it was better to be quiet than sorry. If Sanji Blackleg thought that the doctors did this to him, the second part of this plan would never work. "It's repressing his immune system just as tested. He is NSPH major, so it's taking longer than with the minor subjects, but the virus should overtake his body in just another minute or so. With the elevated viral levels, his superior status should last about twenty minutes before he begins to heal and his body metabolizes the serum. After that, it'll be another five to ten minutes before his immune system kicks back in completely and the virus returns to major levels."

Good. They've just hacked into the system now, so with driving time, you should expect them in about ten minutes.

The second doctor looked back into the hospital room before ducking back out into the hallway. "He's unconscious now. When he wakes up, his viral levels will be superior level."

All the doors are set and locked?

"Yes, it'll lead him straight to the lab. Same for them."

All right, why don't you get yourself out of harm's way? Make sure none of them will see you, I don't want to have to come down there early and fix this myself.

"Yes sir," she nodded and flipped the phone shut, nodding to the other doctors, who put away their pens and notepads and trotted off after her down the hall. At the sound of all the footsteps echoing off of the long walls, Sanji twitched, a low growl rising up from his throat as he stirred.

The smell of their blood was as clear as if they had slashed their own throats in front of him.

He was so hungry.