AN: We're now just entering the nitty gritty of the mystery behind the 'artifact', and, y'know, things...about it. I'll let you surmise, but this chapter flings it in your face, basically. Next chapter introduces more insight. Strangely enough, you'll start seeing more maniacal Brook and happy Brook-but if you truly understand his character, maybe that's not strange at all. Glad you're all enjoying this; I'm doing my best to make every crew member an important piece of the story. Sanji-lovers will very much enjoy a few chapters coming up.

I digress. Let's all make train noises and run all over the living room furniture!

Chapter Five: The Price

"The basis of optimism is sheer terror."
- Oscar Wilde

Brook's hand grasped the bow and drew the first note from the violin in soulful rhapsody, but that was the end. His throat closed, his body froze, and he

Forgot the words.

He had been shot before, even stabbed, had his skull nearly smashed in—none of that had felt this soul-shatteringly terrible.

His hand trembled as his mind broke down into small pieces, scattering like the wind. In reaction, his arm began to shake and his face shrunk into a grimace when the overwhelming fear took over. He couldn't play. He just didn't know how anymore. The part of him that made up all of him was broken—no, no, missing. Gone.

The strings of the old violin wailed; a grotesque and mutated violation of what was simple and beautiful choked the air. After the first few measures, he stopped. The entire room was silent.

Nami and Usopp-san's faces were filled with shock, as if their musician had turned into a dragon and spat molasses.

"What is wrong with you?" snapped the princess, her shrill voice a terrible encore to the travesty he'd committed. "Is this some sort of jest? Are you a jester, old man? Because I hate jesters!"

"O-Oi, Brook," Usopp-san started, brimming with self-assurance. "This isn't the time for a joke, right? I-I know, you should play Bink's Sake! You know that really...well..."

Brook willed the bow to touch the strings again, willed to believe that this was just a mistake, but an invisible force stayed his hand. The truth was, he could not remember how to play. Even the words stuck in his throat, like a lead ball in a cannon that would never fire again.

"I...cannot," he admitted.

"Brook," Nami-san said with a tremolo in her voice. Her accusing tone stung so harshly—she did not mean it, surely, but what a terrible sensation it rose. "Brook, what are you doing? Our lives are at stake! This isn't a good plan!"

"Beautiful princess," Brook said, not in response, but in defeat. He lowered the instrument with aching arms, and touched the center of his tinted glasses briefly. "Please forgive my deceit. I only request that my comrades be treated with mercy. It would be to your benefit as well, for our captain has a very good heart, and may react less harshly if you spare us this goodwill."

The sound of the princess' fingers tightening on the throne was audible. Just as he had feared. "You dare threaten me?" she nearly howled, and stood up. "No, you will be spared no mercy! Pirates have no place here in El Lo Misca, especially dirty, lying ones who act under the pretence of civility! Guards, take these two to the Pool, and have them executed within the hour!"

At the young girl's proclamation, there was a cold ripple of shock from her many servants. For the first time, a soldier showed hesitation in obeying the order, and spoke up timidly. "B-But, your beautiful Highness, these others...there's been no trial-"

"They're pirates!" she screeched. There was a groaning sound that emanated from every stone in the grand hall, and a crackling that followed suit. It felt as though the entire castle were shifting. "This one tried to make a fool of me! His companions will die, and he shall be sent to prison!"

At the shrill mention of 'die', Brook snapped out of his daze and looked frantically for his nakama, who were being hauled towards another exit, without him. "W-Wait!" he sputtered, tugging in vain on the grip of his captors. "That's not reasonable at all! They have done nothing wrong!"

"We're innocent!" cried Usopp, choked with a blind panic for which he couldn't be blamed. "If you don't let us go, you'll suffer a fate worse than one thousand paper cuts! You'll be sorry!"

"Guards, execute the annoying one first," Princess Kana said with an air of disgruntled boredom. Brook's heart beat would surely break his ribs, because his ears refused to lie to him.

Such vanity! Vain. Vain. Vain. The men suddenly took his cane before he could complain, which was quite profane. They pulled back on him again and again. His thoughts seethed and clouded the room, like heavy rain, filled with pain. All that kept him sane had begun to wane, the music that was his soul, the darkened fog's bane!

He was insane.

His flesh was nothing; his blood was silent. What kind of trade was this? He had no purpose on board his captain's ship, if he lost his ability to fight, to sing and raise spirits. Now his nakama—this could not be happening again!

Blackness filled his eyes, and he slipped into a void.

When he was inside a dark place that yearned for sunlight and fresh air, Brook regained his senses. It was like waking from a dream, inside the fog, of which he'd almost forgotten the bitter taste.

That was true—he'd left the fog behind two years ago, yes, but it had never left him. He had never been this scared. Had his soul been damaged? Did he have a soul any longer? With no soul, he was no king—not even 'just bones', but a man without purpose.

The smell of moss, dirt and stale, rotting air surrounded him. His head throbbed sharply, and his hand rubbed the spot where it must have struck the wall. When he raised his hand, the weight of the chain attached to it almost toppled him over.

"Oi, be careful, old man," whispered a girl's voice. "They were pretty rough with you, y'know."

His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim lighting of the prison cell, with no help at all from the dark tint of his glasses. Just as he'd ascertained, the voice belonged to the young flutist from the streets. Her expression, shadowed as it was, was very unfeminine. And a tad bit scary.

"You're a Devil Fruit user, aren't you?"

"Eh...?" croaked the musician,

"Because you were glowing just a few minutes ago. That's weird. And who's 'Luffy-san'? You look kind of like a pervert. That's not a girl's name, is it?"

Before he knew it, the girl was reaching out to touch his glasses. On wild instinct, Brook shielded his face with his free hand. "Not the glasses!" he yelped. A moment later, a heavy sigh shook his body. "Where am I?"

"The 'beautiful' princess's favourite dungeon, of course. Not the first time I've been here, and it won't be my last. Got that? Now get up, I need your help to escape."

Brook stared intently at the back of his hand. He imagined the blood coursing through his veins, the billions of live nerves and muscles that were meant to be his greatest salvation. A hand that could not play anymore, and thus was useless.

This was not the time to dwell, when he was in hell. He must escape, so that his crew did not endanger themselves on his account. For all it was worth, he would not fail them again.

"Yohoho," he laughed with forced mirth, and rose to his feet. "At the very least, I can be of use to you, young miss...er..."

"You can call me Mince. Now shut up, and reach up to the window up there and tug on the right-most bar. Got all that, sponge-head?"

"Excuse me, my name is Brook," he insisted with a slight whine, aggravated that anyone would dare compare his hair to cleaning ware. "'Humming' Brook."

"Okay, Humming Bird, just do it already! Guards on patrol will be back any minute."

"Ah, yes ma'am!" Brook stepped lightly over to the wall with the barred window. Even for him, the window was above eye level. Deftly, he tried to pull on the right-most window bar, but it would not budge an inch. He tried again, even harder—it was solid. Curiously, he glanced down at the black-haired girl's expectant face, "Are you certain that this is it?"

Mince responded by burying her face in her hands and moaning.

"What's wrong?" he asked, in rising alarm. Had he missed something? "Are you sick?"

"No, old man, I'm not sick. Isn't it obvious? They found out it was broken and replaced the window! Our only chance of escaping here alive. Is. Gone!"

The budding warmth in his chest didn't fade, however. It was fueled by thoughts of his nakama who would never abandon him in this place. Unlike this interesting young girl, Brook had experience with all that was hopeless, and he could lend his patience to a fellow bleeding soul if need be. A smile formed on his lips—she recoiled slightly, apparently not expecting this to be his response.

"If we are together, Mince-san, then our opportunity is endless," he promised. Then, somewhat brightened at the thought, he added, "Ah, just like my afro! I only just realized now that it will begin growing again! Lucky!"

Mince-san stared at him in disbelief. Brook, however, was looking at their cell door. This was a paltry prison. This was nothing. He would not let madness take him, for he was not useless as long as he lived. Living was such a wonderful thing.

"That reminds me, Mince-san," he continued, and bent over low, so that he did not tower nearly thrice her height. He inhaled shortly and asked in all sincerity, "Would you mind lending me some money?"

Zoro knew something bad was about to happen long before the music began.

It was an imperialistic march, a really tacky fanfare that made his stomach turn. The song suddenly flared up over a series of invisible mouthpieces around the city. Wherever the sound came from, the voice that followed boomed so loudly, it was impossible to not cringe.

"Citizens of El Lo Misca! Heed the decree of your beautiful princess!"

Zoro stood next to his captain in the midst of a busy street. But the moment the voice roared overhead, everyone stopped. There was no hesitation. Not one soul was brazen enough to move for fear of...well, whatever happened when they disobeyed.

"Pirates have come to our hallowed shores! The Miscan Imperial Elite have captured two sea-faring criminals. Summarily, there will be held a public execution at the Pool of Justice at the peak of midday! Attend and witness the divine justice of the beautiful Princess Kana!"

A pop, a hiss, and a whine ended the message. Slowly, life returned to the people in the streets. No one seemed particularly surprised or excited, as though this were a daily chore they had to complete.

The hair on Zoro's neck stood up like needles. He tried to think over his racing heartbeat—sure, the announcement that two of his crewmates were about to be chopped upset him, but this was definitely a trap. They knew the other Straw Hats were here; the only reason they weren't all caught by now was the fact they had anonymity—bounty posters were non-existent here. These people didn't care what pirates they dealt with. It was an island kept in the dark, away from the World Government's grip. Any pirate was just as guilty as the last, and the moment the soldiers associated any one of them with the Thousand Sunny, they would be swarmed.

Tch, what a mess. He shouldn't have let Brook go with Usopp and Nami. If he'd gone himself, he would have cut down every last one of the soldiers and dragged the trio's asses back to the ship. They would be surrounded by ocean right now, halfway to the next island. Instead, they were surrounded by a hostile kingdom halfway to a full-scale war.

First things first. He and Luffy had to-

Zoro's blood ran cold. Oh, shit.

"Luffy!" he yelled, and spun around to belatedly stop his captain from taking off. But the future Pirate King had also heard the decree loud and clear, and was long, long gone.

"Shit!" Zoro swore again through clenched teeth, fingers digging into his scalp. "I'm supposed to be looking after him!" He had to get to wherever the execution was taking place, before the idiot had a chance to go announcing his identity and getting them all into trouble.

"You there!" he barked at a kid across the street. The boy, who was fixing a sign, stopped in mid hammer swing to look at him, wide-eyed. "Where is the execution taking place?"

He got a weird look, and the kid replied tartly, "Geez, you must live under a rock. It's at the Pool of Justice, just inside the palace gate."

"Wise ass," muttered the swordsman, and said louder, "How do I get to the palace from here?"

"Go up this street, turn right and follow the main waterway until you get to the bridge. Turn left, then right at Delou's café and you'll hit the main street. From there it's s straight shoot to the palace gate. Weirdo."

Zoro smirked. Simple enough. "Thanks, kid," he said begrudgingly, and took off at a run to the end of the side street.

"Oi!" the boy shouted back, just as he turned the corner. "I said right, not left! Hopeless idiot!"

Bristling with anger, Zoro turned one-eighty degrees and ran in the opposite direction through the intersection. Their original plan to cause a diversion was useless now—the people in charge here had set a trap, and wouldn't be dumb enough to fall for something like that. Still in mid-sprint, he took out the baby transponder snail from inside his overcoat and called Robin's group.

"Robin-" he started.

"I know," said the snail, in Robin's calm, collected voice. "Franky returned to the harbour in the event they attack the ship. Sanji, Chopper and I are going on ahead to the execution. I do hope our comrades have not been decapitated already."

Zoro omitted that last part from memory, far too used to the older woman's morbid sense of humour to care. "Yeah, I'm headed there, too," he said between breaths. People were giving him wary glances as they quickly parted around him, since he showed no signs of slowing down through the busy streets. "Luffy's already gone. We could be dealing with a big problem if we don't catch up."

"Understood. There is something else I'm worried about."

"Eh?"

"The announcer mentioned only two of our comrades. For what reason, I imagine?"

Zoro stayed silent for a dozen breaths; only the urgency spurned by Luffy's recklessness kept him from slowing down. He then bluntly asked, "You think one of them might be dead already?"

"Be prepared for anything. Do you understand?"

Yeah, he understood. The way she questioned him suggested he should understand, because the unspoken part of this conversation was going somewhere dark. If they'd killed Nami, Usopp or Brook—if they were even a little bit responsible, Zoro wouldn't stop Luffy. He'd make sure Luffy did enough damage to make them regret their nakama's death, and if their captain got tired of it, Zoro would finish the job. Damage control only meant something if it meant they left the island alive, and together. There were no such rules when it came to punishing a comrade's killer.

Don't dwell, just run, he ordered himself. To Robin, he grunted affirmatively. Words couldn't handle that certain fear they all shared.

Zoro refused to believe anything until he saw the situation with his own eyes. He knew there was a good chance that Shusui, Wado Ichimonji, and Sandai Kitetsu would get a full meal of blood today. Don't be dead, the thought slipped in, in spite of his focus.

"Good luck, Zoro."

"You too," he growled, and ended the call. To be the extractor, or the executioner. Find Luffy, and stop a war. Or find Luffy, to help him finish one.

TBC