A/N: Happy 2019! This update took a while for all the classic reasons (work, life, broken laptop, had to restart, etc.) it's long so I won't bore you with it. Here's the first part of chapter 23. I split the reactions into two parts because it's tedious to read and edit the original length (which was lost anyway), this chapter features reactions from Marineford to Whiskey Peak.
Hope you all had a lovely holiday season and thank you for your support and kind messages!
Chapter XXIII: Chain Reaction I
"Maybe no great man is virtuous. Or good. Perhaps a man rich in those qualities by definition is barred from greatness."
-Colleen McCullough, Fortune's Favourites, Masters of Rome Series
Some say that when Marineford was built, the World Government's powerful enemies put all their nefarious activities on hold, lesser ones—wept at the prospect of losing easy booty and influence in Paradise; while the ordinary citizens rejoiced naively. Whether that is true or false, no one can say for certain, apart from the fact it was built to last. A structural manifestation of the Marines' might, justice and the promise of peace which only they could 'enforce.'
While Marineford's exterior represented the aforementioned virtues, on this day its interior did anything but that.
On what was supposed to be a productive morning a certain Fleet Admiral was incensed beyond words.
"UNBELIEVABLE!" Sengoku roared smashing his teacup against his desk, the porcelain shards flew in all directions, splashing the contents along with them.
"How does HE always get away with everything?!" He shook a fresh copy of the News Coo in his hand oblivious to the hot tea now trickling off his desk, soaking whatever lay in its path. Sengoku's pet goat tentatively distanced itself from the danger zone.
"I am surprised that he still manages to surprise you," Tsuru said philosophically while brushing off a sharp remnant of the teacup from her lavender shirt. She got to her superior's office as soon as she read the day's headline:
AN UNPARALLELED MATCH
The King of Dressrosa, Shichibukai Donquixote Doflamingo and the Future Queen of Alabasta, Princess Nefertari Vivi were married in a grand ceremony at the Royal Palace in Alubarna!
"If this has been published so openly we can all agree that Doflamingo has the backing of the Gorosei," Sengoku concluded with a judicial certainty.
"Perhaps..." Tsuru stared pensively at the soggy newspaper.
Few details and people- except for Doflamingo himself-have ever managed to escape her scrupulous attention. She may have been named after a crane, but her perception was that of a hawk.
There was something about the large photograph splashed across the page that puzzled her. Doflamingo was pictured toasting with a fawning crowd gathered around him, his hand possessively wrapped around the waist of a striking, young woman with turquoise hair who stared directly into the camera lens. Her smile never reached her eyes. But that was not what Tsuru zoned in on.
It was odd that the photographer could get such a clear, organised and intimate shot at an event that allegedly had thousands of guests if one were to believe the article.
The angle at which the photo was taken was unusual too, there were no shadows, or signs of any other objects beyond the crowd around the pair as though the photographer wanted to create an illusion of a much larger gathering.
After pursuing the Donquixote Family for over a decade, Tsuru was well aware of what the Heavenly Demon-a nickname that suited him a little too well in her opinion-was capable of doing.
"What do you think?" Sengoku asked while taking out a new cup from a cabinet near the window. "I must wonder what sort of machinations Doflamingo had to execute to get King Cobra to agree to this." He took his voice down a notch as he walked back to his office chair. Visibly calmer now he was open to a more a logical discussion.
"Once again, Doflamingo got what he wanted. First, the Princess goes missing, only to reappear four years later under mysterious circumstances. We were looking for her as you know, but nothing came up. He might have something to do with that especially if he has King Cobra's approval. That man is renowned for his integrity, Doflamingo must have done something right there." Tsuru unfolded the newspaper to look at the rest of the photos.
"Meanwhile Crocodile creates an elaborate operation to take over the entire Kingdom of Alabasta only to be taken down by our 'hero' here," Tsuru pointed at Doflamingo's photo, "and the Princess falls for him and they marry. Everything seems a little too convenient, if the higher-ups gave their 'blessing' for this union then there is nothing we can do about it. Your theory is most likely true." Tsuru seemed to agree with Sengoku's earlier observation.
He even threatened Crocodile at the last Shichibukai meeting. He must have laid out his plan long ago. Tsk, these games of his need to stop.
Her face reflected stoic disapproval, the kind she reserved solely for Doflamingo.
"We should have nipped this in the bud back when we had the chance in North Blue. Now he is out of control. I am sorry about that." Tsuru gave Sengoku a concerned look.
The Fleet Admiral cleared his throat and nodded in agreement.
"What's done is done, you did everything you could back then so don't blame yourself over this," he reassured her.
"Thanks. Neither should you." Tsuru noticed the sudden shift in Sengoku's demeanour, he always seemed a bit distant whenever she brought up the events on Swallow Island.
Tsuru folded the newspaper and left it on a coffee table.
"I will have my girls look into this too. Knowing Doflamingo, there is a lot more to this story. Try to calm down, and don't let this get to you. I will talk to you later." she excused herself feeling the palpable shift in the room.
"Thank you. See you later," Sengoku replied in a tight voice.
He turned away as soon as he heard the door shut, his fingers rested on a brass handle of his desk drawer.
I wonder how Rocinante is going to take this...he sighed wistfully thinking of the man he brought up. They haven't spoken in years. This triggering thought brought about a slew of memories that he'd rather not revisit.
He gently pulled out the drawer and picked up an old Marine file, the one with Rocinante's Marine identification photo in it. More recently Sengoku added a few newspaper and magazine clippings that mentioned him.
He stared at the serious face he sorely missed.
Back then Sengoku assumed the worst possible scenario—that his son in all but name—was dead. Rocinante's body was never recovered, save for a bloodied coat, while a witness confirmed (by way of a photograph) that he was the man Doflamingo shot multiple times.
Then there was the whole debacle with the Ope Ope no Mi, Sengoku blamed himself for sending Rocinante on that mission in the first place.
It was hard to forget that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that signified his loss. Sengoku struggled to remember what he did or thought in those years of anguish and despair that followed.
Uncharacteristically, he let the magnitude of his grief weaken his steadfast principles of "reigning justice," as though it were an enemy storming an ancient citadel that held his old beliefs.
Sengoku personally ordered Vergo's execution without a trial, something he would not have done before Rocinante's alleged death.
"We need to make an example out of him to send a clear message to anyone wanting to toy with justice," he said then.
Justice. That's what he would repeat over and over to convince himself that this was the reason, but in Vergo's case Sengoku's "justice" was a crumbling facade for a more barbaric principle—vengeance.
The firing squad made sure he got it.
Since then Sengoku adopted a hard-line policy when it came to other pirates and criminals believing that nothing would change that "scum of the sea." Penal labour flourished, and the courts overflowed with the never-ending conveyor belt of criminal cases.
This was Sengoku's way of drawing a line between supreme and absolute justice that some of his subordinates adhered to. He still believed in the necessity of a trial despite his or perhaps because of the way he dealt with Vergo.
Years later, Sengoku would learn through his spy network that it was Garp's son who saved Rocinante on that fateful day.
Oh the irony, if Garp finds out, he will never let me live this down.
This discovery brought him paramount relief which opened up a new perspective.
He's alive! He could almost relax just a little.
Sengoku understood why Rocinante never reached out to him. He was ashamed. In his view, he must have thought that he had betrayed the man who raised him.
On his side, Sengoku still struggled to accept this new reality despite his relief that the little boy he took under his wing could finally live his life out of his brother's shadow.
The Revolutionaries had saved him, and he was now holding a respectful office in Water 7. Sengoku was no fool and knew the implications of that. Rocinante was working for them.
So you are an undercover agent once again. This must be fate huh?
Adding that to the list of reasons why he couldn't reach out to him just yet-it would endanger them both. Sengoku was not a coward, in his view he lived out his life anyway but Rocinante—had not. It wouldn't be fair to him.
He knew perfectly well that the World Government wouldn't hesitate to take action against him. Sengoku's own name wouldn't serve much of protection especially when people like Akainu were looking for any breach in the current Fleet Admiral's policy to implement his own hardline absolute justice.
At least his current position and the Revolutionaries protect him from that monster Doflamingo. Thanks to Sengoku's own questionable efforts the Marines haven't kept any tabs on Rocinante either.
He always wondered what happened between the two brothers on that night in North Blue. It was clear to Sengoku that Doflamingo still carried a grudge, especially after Vergo's execution.
But for now, they were on the opposite sides in the shrinking justice arena. And yet, Sengoku never divulged this fact, he even went so far as to destroy his marine file risking his position and reputation while doing precisely what Doflamingo accused him of at the last Shichibukai meeting. It was against the protocol, but in Sengoku's opinion, the boy deserved another chance to start afresh. He understood why Garp put up with his family's antics now.
I criticise Garp for letting his crazy family off the hook while I cover for Rocinante and let that runt he picked up run loose without telling anyone how he got his devil fruit in the first place...hah I am getting too old for this!
Perhaps I could visit him when I retire. A comforting thought, which ensured neither one of them would have to compromise on their principles and safety.
Whatever that insane brother of yours cooked up this time, I hope you stay out of it...Rocinante!
The elderly man raised his teacup in a symbolic toast towards his son's photo.
Heavy footsteps and an all-familiar sound of loud chewing ended Sengoku's reminiscence.
He sighed before carefully stowing away Rocinante's file back into his drawer.
Here he comes.
The Oakwood door to his office opened with a loud bang, presumably kicked open by his "courteous" visitor.
"Learn to knock Garp!" Sengoku barked.
The statuesque grey haired man ignored his words.
His eyes drifted to the paper and the cup in Sengoku's hand.
"Oh! Looks like I came at just the right time, give me a cup. I brought snacks." Garp was unfazed by Sengoku's annoyance handing him an open pack of senbei.
"There's barely any left..."
"Yeah, I ate it on my way here haha!" Garp scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"What a surprise, thankfully I am in no mood for snacks anyway. Have you seen the news?" Sengoku tilted his chin towards the newspaper.
"Of course. Why are you so mad about it?" In Garp's view, a man's personal life should be exactly that—private and beyond scrutiny. The incident with Roger and Rouge reinforced this view.
"So you see no problem with an underground broker and a notorious shichibukai marrying the only heir to Alabasta's throne?" Sengoku asked him incredulously.
"No." he shrugged.
"Of course you wouldn't, given the mess-"
"Oh come on, what is he going to do? Alabasta is a member of the World Government, right on the Grand Line. You're overcomplicating everything as usual HA" Garp terminated Sengoku's tirade before choking on a piece of senbei.
He heaved and coughed loudly.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, imbecile!" Sengoku barked passing a glass of water to his wheezing friend.
Garp finished the cup in one gulp.
"AH! Much better!" he smiled widely.
"So how am I 'overcomplicating' it this time?" Sengoku asked in a clipped tone.
"You're still harping on about that? Come on, the flamingo guy's having a midlife crisis, you know how crazy he is. He saw a pretty, young thing, and a chance to play the hero and that's that." Garp voiced his 'analysis.'
"I can always trust you to simplify everything to the point that it becomes irrelevant Garp!" Sengoku rolled his eyes.
"Oh come on, you can't deny that Doflamingo's ego saved our time and resources in dealing with Crocodile's mess." Garp countered before biting on another rice cracker.
"Behhh." Sengoku's goat stepped out of his hiding place.
"Haha! See? Even your old goat agrees with me!" Garp exclaimed.
Sengoku grit his teeth, despite all his jokes the eccentric Vice-Admiral made a valid point. Only time will tell if we made another blunder. I will send more ships to the area.
"Shut up and go deal with your criminal family!" Sengoku boomed.
"Loosen up you old grouch!" Garp got up.
"It's time for you to leave! Now!" Sengoku folded his arms.
"Whatever, I'll see you at lunch." the other man waved him off.
"Tsk. The nerve..." Sengoku muttered under his breath once Garp left.
Hearing the wall clock tick behind his back, the Fleet Admiral reached out for the transponder snail on his desk.
I need to speak with the Gorosei about this.
He paused glancing at his pet goat.
"This is going to be a long day huh? Come, help me deal with this." he let the little caprine chew up the long-suffering newspaper. Sengoku took a deep breath in preparation for the rest of his hectic day.
Somewhere in the Open Seas
Sir Crocodile was no stranger to defeat and humiliation, having experienced a life-altering confrontation as a young man in the New World.
Back then one could say it was a blunder of youth and the overreaching arrogance that came with it.
What set his most recent defeat apart from the one that took place in his reckless past was the calibre of his enemy.
It was one thing to lose to a legendary Yonko like Whitebeard, had Crocodile's pride been a notch or two lower, losing to the Strongest Man in the world might have been a badge of foolhardy honour. Few pirates were brave enough to stand up to Roger's rival after all, let alone challenge him.
Losing to another Shichibukai was an entirely different story.
It was an epitome of embarrassment in this proud pirate's view. And to further rub the proverbial salt into the wound-Operation Utopia was meant to be his comeback, Pluton was supposed to be the vehicle that paved the way towards the Pirate King's throne.
He planned meticulously for years, and it all went up in smoke right before his eyes. His bets were off, and his chance disappeared like that of a gambler's winnings at his casino.
The latter was gone too.
I was so close this time. To hell with it all!
Yet there he was with his silent fury, interred in a cell aboard a heavily guarded marine ship and slapped with a life sentence no less!
Was he humiliated?
Yes.
But oddly enough once the first wave of realisation ebbed away, he was left with a stoic acceptance of sorts.
Perhaps this was his ineluctable destiny, this ex-Shichibukai was no stranger to bad luck and defeat. What he was a stranger to, however, was the idea of a fixed destiny, in Crocodile's view, one should forge his or her life regardless of who and what lay along the way.
Growing up he dreamt of power, as he got older he lived and breathed it. People came and went through his life, his circumstances evolved over time, and yet that desire for power was the one constant thing about him.
Long ago he heard one of his victims say that there are as many paths to power as there are people in this world.
Being a temperamental young man, Crocodile scoffed at these words thinking that was just the weak man's way for pleading for mercy. Yet now he was beginning to see the meaning behind them.
This could be the start of something new...I better make another plan during my downtime.
"Kuahaha!" He laughed out loud at the thought and his twisted optimism.
The sound alerted someone outside the door to the lower deck where Crocodile was imprisoned.
A stench of lower-tier brand cigars that Crocodile abhorred wafted through the iron grill on the door—instantly identifying the approaching "visitor." Heavy footsteps came closer and closer before a clink of metal and pair of combat boots appeared in the fallen Shichibukai's line of vision.
"The hell are you laughing at?" a gruff voice barked at him.
"None of your damn business Smoker, I'd put out that cheap crap you smoke if I were you. Can't you afford proper cigars?" Crocodile gave as good as he got, eyeing the numerous backups that Smoker stored in his front pocket.
Quantity over quality...what an insult to real cigar aficionados. Idiot!
"And I would shut up if I were you. Not all of us rob suffering people for showy crap like you." Smoker tapped the cell bars with his kairoseki-tipped staff.
"You only say this because I am in here. The minute those chains are off me—you're finished." Crocodile threatened.
"Keep talking like that and let's see how far it will take you. Which reminds me, I brought you something." Smoker fished out the newspaper he pressed with his forearm.
"How thoughtful." Crocodile remarked indifferently.
Smoker ignored him, unfolding the front page he crouched and held it up so Crocodile could read it.
"Looks like your rival is legitimising his position in your turf. You rotten bastards are really pushing the limits nowadays." Smoker commented nonchalantly.
Crocodile's hazel eyes scanned the text and went back to the photo of Doflamingo and Vivi.
There was a silent pause, during which Smoker observed the man before him. Looking for any signs of a broader conspiracy.
What are they both really up to?
Crocodile wasn't at all surprised by this having seen and heard his "ex-colleague" pander to the Nefertari brat in Alabasta.
A peculiar sound escaped his lips, unusual for Crocodile, but the rest of the people typically refer to it as a "snort".
Smoker inhaled sharply, his lungs were so accustomed to smoke that he didn't even cough. He wasn't expecting Crocodile to react this way.
He really did it, and that stupid girl...oh imbeciles what did you get yourselves into?!
"KUAHAHAHAHAHA!" He rolled his head to the side in a fit of manic laughter.
"You think this is funny?! Are you in on this together with Doflamingo?" Smoker interjected.
But Crocodile laughed even harder.
"You sick bastard, at this rate you will be laughing all the way to Impel Down. Shut up!" the newly appointed Marine Commodore demanded.
This dampened the brunet's mirth.
"Remember this you loser, I don't work for or with anyone. People work for me. Not the other way around," Crocodile replied imperiously.
He looked back at Doflamingo's smug face in the photo.
"That being said you can't deny that the Flamingo freak has really lost it. This may not be his best move, that's for sure. That Nefertari brat is a conniving snake in the making much like her Father and Flamingo himself."
They never gave away Pluton's location after all. Perhaps that is what Doflamingo is after...
"I find it hard to believe, you are just bitter about your defeat. I read the reports. You lost consciousness largely because the Nefertari girl ordered the guards to drench you in water after Doflamingo sent you flying into a wall." Smoker replied.
"You are as rude as you look." Crocodile countered.
"That doesn't change the facts." Smoker shot back.
"We'll see about that."
I'd keep an eye on that Princess if I were a Marine, Crocodile wanted to add but stopped.
The more problems they all create for themselves, the better.
I will have my chance.
Smoker would never admit it, but Crocodile's reaction and the pensive silence that followed unnerved him.
These Shichibukais should have never been trusted in the first place!
"Anyway, that's something for you to think about on your way to Impel Down." Smoker remarked coolly as he left for the upper deck leaving a cloud of smoke behind him.
"Trust me, I have better things to think about."
Having mentally closed his Alabasta chapter, Crocodile honestly thought so, a new plan crept into his mind.
A time as good as any to prepare for the New World...
Cactus Island, Whiskey Peak...
For the inhabitants of the infamous isle of bounty hunters, mornings would never be the same after the collapse of Baroque Works and the public downfall of its leader.
Most of the residents abandoned Whiskey Peak in droves either in fear of a World Government retribution or simply in search of a better life.
Even bounty hunters need to eat after all.
Which is exactly what a pair of former agents was doing in one of the washed stone houses in the once rowdy town.
If one were to peak into the open window of the house their eyes would be met with an idyllic scene, their senses tantalised by a rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee fused beautifully with the mouthwatering smell of piping hot buttermilk pancakes—Mr. Nine's latest creation—amplified the warmth and comfort of this new life he built.
As the ginger-haired man busied himself preparing breakfast for himself and Miss Monday (he really wanted to impress her), his love interest leisurely sipped her coffee.
Days like this made her appreciate and see life in entirely new colours. Miss Monday casually leaned over the windowsill admiring the morning stillness of their depopulated town.
Heh, is this what they call bliss? She wondered sardonically at her own uncharacteristic observation.
I could get used to this, she smiled turning to her companion whose strange stillness took her by surprise.
"What's wrong?" she asked worried about the possibility of a new threat to their fragile peace.
But Mr Nine opted out of an answer as his gaze was fixed on something laying on the countertop.
He wordlessly motioned for Miss Monday to come up to him.
"What is it?" she seemed agitated.
"Look," he began finally turning to her, "It's Miss Wednesday!" he shrieked stamping his index finger on a neatly folded copy of the day's newspaper and its buzzing headline.
Miss Monday leaned over him to take a closer look.
"It sure is, she has come a long way hasn't she?" Miss Monday smiled fondly remembering Vivi's earlier days at Baroque Works.
She was so determined to learn all the ropes of being a frontier agent.
"I can't believe it! And now she's married? To Donquixote Doflamingo!" Mr.9 paused letting the sentence sink in as his mind processed the news.
Well after what happened on Jaya...
"You said he killed Mr.5 and Miss Valentine and helped you both in Jaya. Frankly, their marriage doesn't shock me as much is it should." Miss Monday noted.
There's probably a lot more to this story, she furrowed her brow pensively.
"Yes you are right, he protected her, so it must be true love!" Mr.9 blurted out going from one extreme to another.
"No that's not what I meant." Miss Monday rolled her eyes, "you are talking about a notorious Shichibukai and an underground broker here, something tells me that 'love' is not going to be on a list of priorities for a man like him."
"Well a little while ago some would have said the same thing about two certain retired, cold-blooded bounty hunters," he winked at her "but look at us and what we have together." he gestured at the comfortable space around them.
You are such a simpleton sometimes, but I love that about you. Miss Monday smiled warmly at his counterargument.
"Well whatever it is, I hope everything works out for Miss Wednesday, she deserves to be happy after all that she has been through."
"Exactly and if anything goes wrong, she can always stay here with us." Mr Nine beat his chest in a display of bravery.
"She is more than welcome here." Miss Monday agreed, "I doubt we can protect her from someone as powerful as Doflamingo...but you never know!" the strongwoman laughed, "I still have some iron left in these," she patted her protruding biceps.
"You underestimate yourself, dear," Mr Nine cooed.
The couple spent the rest of the morning discussing what gift they should send Vivi as a token of their friendship and for her wedding, a complete contrast to the reception the news of this "union" would receive elsewhere on the Grandline.
A/N: The next part will feature reactions from Water 7, Dressrosa and a bit of Alabasta and will be longer than this part. Robin's role with Revos will be explained a bit better too. On a side note, more fic art has been added to the celestialbonds tumblr recently;) a big thanks to the artists who worked on them.