Disclaimer: One Piece is the property of Eiichiro Oda. Many of the characters in this story are property of me. Do not use this story or its characters without my permission. Thank you.


"That was embarrassing" Rez mocked. He stood triumphant with his arms crossed and sword shoved in the ground amidst the wide-spread destruction he had caused just moments earlier. Unconscious, bleeding bodies of mind-warped criminals were strewn about like so many dead bodies in a warzone, although they were not dead but dying. "Hey Zan! Come on, we need to move too!" Zan's face suddenly came twisting from the high stone wall above.

"Just a moment" Zan shouted. "There seems to be another legion coming our way!"

"What's this 'our'!?" Rez shouted back. "I did all the damn fighting!"

"Untrue" Zan noted. "I had to hold back a bit, but I was able to incapacitate most of them that were sneaking up behind you."

"LIAR!" Rez accused. "You were hiding the whole time! Either that, or you're not really hurt!"

"I'm not using my legs in the walls" Zan said. "Moving through solid objects like this is akin to swimming, which makes me a kind of glittering exception to the rule that no Devil Fruit user can swim, but my arms are more than powerful enough to pull me along."

"Those strings!?" Rez mocked. "HA! I doubt that!"

"There they be!" a guard shouted. A whole troop of spear-armed men came from above and prepared to descend with ropes rather than take the stairs. "Stop them! By any means, we must protect the royal life of the Great King Rupert!"

"UUAAAHHH!!!" the rest of the troop shouted.

"Dammit!" Rez cursed. "Zan, swim faster! We need to catch up with Drake!"

"We're nicknaming him now?" Zan asked quietly. Rez had taken his sword from out of the ground and was already off and running. Zan phased back inside the wall and began crawling blindly through the thick gray stone, unable to breath as he swam in solid rock. This is getting out of hand. We need to regroup as soon as possible and strategize, not run around fighting like madmen. Then again, I'm sure Bard is doing just that with unending enthusiasm.

"Crap!" Rez shouted. "He's a fast runner!" Rez came upon a new room, an widened hallway where at least three others met and converged to separate into five more rooms. Rez was following an obvious path of destruction where even the stone workings of the door frames were scratched and damaged from Reginald's rampage. "This guy can handle himself easily, that's for sure, but what's weird is there aren't any bodies around. Was he just flailing his weapons like an idiot and scared them away?"

A twinge set off in Rez's mind. He looked up and drew out both his gunblades and blocked an incoming downward stab from a man dressed in all red. The doors behind that man were instantly slammed shut and the guards were impeded from proceeding.

"Damnation!" a guard cursed. "That fiend has locked us out!"

"Come men!" another announced. "We can cut him off by passing through the armory and kitchen!"

"HORAAHHH!!!" The troop shouted. Little did they know the true fiend was setting himself up against their real enemy on the other side of the door. Rez managed to jump away and his keen duelist eyes picked up on every detail of his new enemy like an instant photograph. He was a smaller man, shorter than Rez by only an inch or so, and wore an intricate and flowing dress of red with a sharp, stout dagger in hand. His cape and mantle formed around a mask of brass-color with six holes, three in two rows, at the mouth and two reflective golden plates at his eyes. His hooded cape came up in a short spike and went down to his black-booted feet. His pants were tight and red, coming up to a black belt below what Rez saw as thick, leathery red armor on his chest.

"Who the hell are you?" Rez asked.

"Who the hell cares?" the mysterious man hissed. "What's more important right now is you."

"Well" Rez said, "you ain't one of them."

"Correct" he answered, waving his short dagger around with his gloved fingers. Rez noticed some golden studs on the knuckles of the gloves, suggesting to him a degree of hand-to-hand combat training. "What you may like to know is that I am a member of the secretive assassins sect on this island that prevents people like you, who are unpermitted to have such confidential information, from leaving alive."

"I never wanted to know this crap" Rez defended. "Some stupid, busty chick told me!"

"That would be Corporal Kevorkia" the man said. "She warned us a short while ago of you trespassers. Rez 'The Duelist' and an unknown man referred to as 'Zan'. Along with you both Commander-at-Arms Reginald Drakengard has regained his memories and is after the 'King' of the 'kingdom'."

"That's the gist of it" Rez said. He twirled his gunblades around and gripped the handles tightly, preparing to wield them as swords. He took a stance, with one blade out in front turned sideways with the sharp edged facing his opponent and the other drawn back vertically at head level. He took his right leg and turned it away from his opponent so his sideways blade-side was forward and his high-stance blade-side was farther away. "I've got no intention of dying, dude. You're going to have to really try if you want me dead."

"And I will" the man said. He dashed in with his dagger and stabbed. Rez made a step forward and sliced down powerfully with his head-level blade, forcing the attacker's hand almost to the ground. Then, with his other gunblade, he merely had to turn his shoulder out and shot the man in the chest. It was all so fluid that the clash of metal-on-metal and the bang of his gun were almost simultaneous. "...that is...I will kill you...once I get reinforcements..."

The man pushed away, clutched his aching chest where Rez could see no blood, and leaped far up the wall. Rez raised his guns and aimed, but once the man reached the high-vaulted ceiling he was gone, disappearing into the shadows.

"Crap" Rez noted. "Now we got assassins after us. What the hell is next?"


"I didn't anticipate this" Reginald said in astonishment. He had somehow, by arcane miracles of the castle design, gotten lost and was at a dead end, facing down a door that led nowhere. "I guess I never got to go very far on my own in this place. They always carted me around in a cage." Reginald set the dented candle-bearing poled on the ground beside him, giving him a sort of gilded frame from behind.

Behind is just where someone happened to be. Silently, a figure in all deep red came up. This crimson assassin held not two daggers but two marvelously sharp and smooth long swords. They weren't normal swords or fencing swords but flat and shining with gold-colored cross hand guard. His one's mask looked much more ferocious with three horizontal slits at the mouth and two angled, angry reflective plates of light blue at the eyes. His hood branched off into two points that resembled horns.

"I suppose I could break through the walls" Reginald mused "but then what could I do beyond that?" The senses of danger in Reginald's mind had dulled so harshly from years of cold and dark isolation that it almost didn't register the threat that crept up behind him. As a sword was raised up the singing of its metal against the air echoed into Reginald's ear and he finally felt the same sharp spark of danger that he had ages before. He rolled out of the way, grabbing one of his brass poles as he dodged, and stopped himself to face his enemy.

"You dodged" the man hissed lowly. "I didn't expect you to dodge...That's a demerit..."

"Crimson Killers" Reginald said. "I employed you to keep the prisoners and test subjects in check should they riot. That was some twenty-odd years ago. I had thought you all left already."

"We've been waiting" the man said "with high hopes. It is against our code of conduct to leave without working a bit. Doing so could be...a demerit."

"Code of conduct" Reginald smirked. He laughed at the notion as he stood up and tapped the candle pole on his shoulder like a sword. "That's a funny thing for a mercenary to be talking about."

"That is correct" the man said, pointing with one of his long, thin swords. "I am indeed a mercenary. A point of merit for you. That gives you one against my current fifteen points. I used to have 231...but so many mistakes later I have been reduced to this low number. I can only blame myself for that..."

"I don't care" Reginald said with a grimace. "I need to get out of here!"

"You are riotous" the man exclaimed very quietly. He took his swords up and made a V with them, meeting their pommel ends together at his waist. He spread his legs, the perfectly smooth uniform of blood red draping itself over his legs and down to the ground. His chest armor was covered by a red banner bearing a hidden emblem for the entire brigade and came down in a long cloth that ran over his groin area and down to the carpeted floor. That and his double-spiked cowl signified him as an elite among the ranks of assassins within the guild. "I must stop you! I can earn more merit that way!"

"You're nuts" Reginald said. He took his candelabra post in two hands and began to charge in. He made a powerful swing down, clashing it between the blades that his opponent had crossed to guard himself. The brass pole was barely inches from the man's head.

"Strong" the man said. He slowly started turning his wrists and brought the blades of his swords together, pushing the smooth pole that Reginald had brought down up and out of his defense. "I anticipated strength, judging from you past and your current physique. A point of merit for me."

"Good for you" Reginald said. "Could you anticipate this!?" Reginald let the grip and strength he channeled into the weapon release and it went flying up. Both of the man's swords were now wide out and his wrists were twisted at their maximum. Reginald brought one of his powerful arms down from high and gave a stern punch to the soft-padded chest of his enemy. The attack forced the swordsman to lean back at his waist but it didn't throw him off. Instead he was ready to continue attacking with his swords and started to bring them around.

"KI-YAAAHHH!!!" Reginald roared. He gave his most powerful, flat kick to the man's gut and sent his head unintentionally reeling forward until it smashed into Reginald's knee. It was more painful for Reginald to have a metal mask hit him on a fragile point, but the experience jarred the assassin out of his ready position and made him stumble backwards while he raised his head up.

"We wear the most sophisticated armor in the mercenary world" the man declared with a tired sense of pride. "The only thing that can actually harm us is a sword, and while I do not doubt you have the necessary force to push a sword all the way through my armor, I know well that you do not have one to use."

"So it's a padding kind of armor" Reginald noted. "Synthetics and complex fabrics made to cushion the force of a bullet and stop cannon fire on ships. That kind of stuff? Tell me, is it the prototype or did Vegapunk get off his ass long enough to perfect it?"

"There is another type of this armor?" the man asked.

"That's the UberSkin Padding"Reginald explained. "I helped design it. I know it's main flaw!" Reginald caught his brass weapon on its way down and used his insanely mighty hands to pull the candle-holders off and squeeze the rest of the metal at the tip into a fine point. A good spear for stabbing, made in an instant by a remarkably powerful man. "What's your codename? I demand to know it!"

"I will tell you" the man said "out of good merit. I am known as Ricky the Render, and these are my two swords 'Agony' and 'Charlene'."

"...Charlene...?" Reginald repeated curiously.

"Yes" Ricky affirmed. "The one in my right hand is 'Agony' and the left is 'Charlene'." He waved Charlene around a few times just to make sure Reginald saw it properly. Reginald looked somewhat disgusted and almost lost the grip of his spear. The stupidity of the situation had just skyrocketed for him.


Dammit Reginald cursed internally. I'm a scientist, a researcher in the field of human minds and endless potential drives! Why am I fighting the crazy one!?!?!?The crowd outside waited on bated breath for their king to march his way through the gates once more and face down his enemy. Ramone stood with his coat recovered, blowing in the winds as it was draped on his shoulders. His curled and uncurled his fingers many times out of impatient habit and growled softly. Gretta was half-hiding in her chair with her hands raised up to her blushing face like a woman on her wedding night. Seeing the man himself, in the flesh, brought odd redness to her otherwise bone-white cheeks.

"I am fearful" Emily admitted to no one in particular. "What may happen if this cruel Demon King does decide to kill us all? Who could stop him?"

"Oh my" a man said after hearing the girl. "Now I am worried as well!"

'What can we do?' 'Who can protect us?' 'Maybe we should leave!' The mixed reactions continued on until Ramone looked over at the audience and growled.

"Ggggg...." he lowed. Silence spread instantly. The only sound after that rose above the wind was the occasional gulping. Ramone decided, as one ruggedly-bearded man gulped, to make an example and let his demonic centipede out to intimidate the crowd. It whipped over to the gulping man's face and forced him to faint. "You are all maggots. There is no one who could save you if I so choose to kill you all. You came to see a demon fight and, well, demons don't always have a good regard for human life."

The audience was getting visually fearful now. Every body was shaking and tense from his threats.

"Face it" Ramone said with great finality, "if I want to berserk, you're all screwed..."

"Don't be so certain!" a girl shouted out crudely. Everyone turned with soft gasps to see Araly, standing firm with cards in her hand and a scarf around her neck, glaring down the demonic Ramone. "We may be against the same people, but I'm definitely not on your side! If you make any stupid moves for the audience I'll make sure you lose your fight!"

"Gggg...." Ramone growled. He was about to let Mi-Go run rampant and kill several people just to jerk a response out of the girl, but seeing the fierceness in her eyes he sighed and let his anger go. "Understood" he said. "Now shut up and take a seat." Araly sighed with great relief and sat down on the wooden bleachers. The people moved away from her, but not out of horror. They wanted her to be alone out of their unseen respect.

"Thank you" someone whispered almost totally silently. Araly sat with pride, hands folded on her lap, and nodded to reply. Colleen was still out cold under the treatment of Araly's moisture-implanting cloth so her system would rehydrate faster, and was lied down in the shade of the garden's closest tree. Now that Bard had left Araly was alone, the only pirate present without totally malicious intent. She had to make a stand for herself and her motives, for her crew and her captain...

...or else evil would ultimately triumph in the eyes of these people.