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.
The ending result had finally come. The ten strongest men of the Buster crew were revealed at the end of the long-drawn tournament. Barbell Jacques, a loud and wide-jawed man burly man wearing sea-blue overalls and a dark-blue jacket embroidered with the crew's emblem in black, stood out as the strongest. Behind him were nine of the Paladins, all posing in their tunics and armor-plated pants with fierce beards and tied-back flowing manes, forming the team of the strongest crewmen decided via unarmed free-for-all combat.
"Alright, lads!" Jacques shouted. "This is it! Do or die time! We're going down to that ship, and by God, we're not leaving until we've sunken it! Even if we have to raze all hell with out BARE HANDS!"
"UUUOOOOOHHHH!" roared the crew in reply. Just as Jacques hopped onto the rail to slide down the rope of descent, Gretta arrived and hopped back onto the deck.
"Oh, Gretta's back!" Jacques shouted. "What's the news?" She turned and saw his wide, eager grin over his jutting, manly jaw and turned it away.
"Tell them they're not going" she said.
"Eh?" Jacques grunted.
"We only need the nurses to tend to the wounded" Gretta said. "Nobody else goes until Bard gives the word."
"EEEEHHHH?" bellowed the rest of the crew, most of whom were leaning on crutches and were already bandaged up around their swollen, beaten faces from the fighting. The nurses were called upon and departed immediately, led down one at a time onto the deck of the ship and instructed in detail by Gretta where to go. Once Gretta saw all the nurses on their way she turned to the crew, all of whom had sullenly returned to sob at their posts.
"All that fighting for nothing" a man moaned.
"Just sound and fury" another prosed "without any righteous end!"
"Oh, the woe!" a Paladin bemoaned. Gretta sighed and left the deck to walk to the helm where Rez was steering.
"I'm here to dismiss you" Gretta said. Rez glanced at her then turned right back to his fixed horizon. "Captain's orders. You're needed down on the ship."
"What's he done?" Rez asked. "Did he seriously get captured?"
"No" Gretta said. She gave a silent pause of shame. "There was never a fight. I, however, injured every unarmed and non-hostile crew member that was within my sight and reach at the time of my arrival, thinking that Bard had been captured. There are peaceful negotiations underway currently, and Bard has called upon you to act as a second-opinion in regard to the crew as a whole." Rez gave a stern moment of thought, then pulled Gretta to the wheel.
"Keep it straight" he said. "Find a point on the horizon straight ahead and don't let it move. We're going as slow as we can to keep up with the ship, so don't decide to speed off or weigh anchor right away."
"Right" Gretta said. She took the wheel and locked it in place with her arms. She started straight ahead, into the cloudy sky and endlessly round expanse of the world beyond, keeping her sight locked on the tip of the bowsprit. Rez charged away, down the deck and to the rope. He spun it around his ankle and under his armpit so the rope didn't harshly brush onto his bare skin. Once he was on the ship he followed a nurse to the main bridge where Bard was apparently waiting. He awed at the ship as he ran, taking in every detail of the amazing metal craft, stomping echoing steps across its flat deck.
Meanwhile, within the metal hull, Zan continued his own inspection without knowing the situation up top. He inspected a myriad of blind corners and hallways, all so thickly strewn with pipes that hissed and conducted unnatural heat, memorizing each turn as if it were to become a battlefield in some early future. Such was an assassin's habit. Zan took no time to marvel at the machinery and its amazing complexities. He only took to notice how hard or easy it was for his arm to pass through at any given point.
I understand a bit Zan thought. His hand was melded halfway into a metal box when it hit a solid object, one which he couldn't pass through. These pipes pump saltwater gathered from the ocean. I bet if I followed them I could find the engine. I wonder what such a thing would look like... Zan made his way through more halls, all nearly identical, and found his way into an open area with a heavy-looking machine folded up like a bird's wing. Zan moved closer to inspect it in the darkness. As he approached it he felt a strange sense of danger in the air that was quick to circle about him. He felt some unseen enemy observing him from the shadows, but just as he began to hone in on it the presence vanished. Am I getting paranoid? No. As an assassin, one can never be too paranoid. If anything, I need to be extremely cautious to the point of scaring myself... Zan's second-nature habit forced him to pull out a cigarette to ease his nerves, though his overpowering logic prevented him from getting his lighter as well. I work too hard he thought.
"The boss wants us to raise the crane" a voice instructed from the shadows. Zan's body reacted instantaneously. He slipped through the metal frame of the machine's folded arm, sped across the floor in quick, silent steps and jumped up into a dark corner still kept hidden by shadows after a bright light flashed from an electric lamp. Two workers, one holding the lamp, came from a hallway. They were wearing Strange clothing, jumpsuits made of thick cotton and padded at all joints and broader parts with leather that was studded in with metal rivets. They wore metal helmets with lights affixed to the front, though the man with the lantern's light was broken.
"What for?" asked the man with the lamp.
"Looks like we have visitors" the other man said with slacked jaw. "It's probably the Marines or something."
"Not every day we get to use this thing, too" the lamp-man said. "It was pretty damn exciting seeing this thing work the first time." The slack-jawed man noticed something on the ground. Zan then realized, by some bizarre strock of misfortune, he had forgotten something critical. In his haste, his cigarette did not fuse through the metal with him and fell out of his mouth! Zan started to tense up as the man took the cigarette up.
"This yours?" he asked to his cohort.
"I don't smoke" the lamp-man said. "Am I going to have to do this by myself?" The slack-jawed man, giving the cigarette's presence no more concern, shrugged and put it in his mouth.
"Alright" he said with a clap of his hands, "let's open this sucker!" The lamp-man stood at a strange metal box that rose up from the floor and flipped a large handlebar lever. The roof overhead started to open up, as if a fissure on the metal deck above had cleaved a perfect slice through the ship, and the floor was being slowly lifted up in two wide pieces. With another pull of another lever the surrounding floor of the folded crane arm started to rise up, lifted by a loud hissing of steam-powered hydraulics. The slack-jawed man got behind another set of controls and started lifting levers and pushing buttons. Two rods stuck out from the center of the panel, and the last thing Zan saw before the platform had been risen above his sight was that of the crane arm unfolding and rising.
Incredible Zan thought. That such a ship can exist on this ocean...I'm glad I got to see such a thing. The life of an adventurer isn't so bad after all... Zan, however, only knew so much. As he melded his way back up to the top of the deck, he again sensed a strange presence in the echoing hallways of the cavernous ship's belly. Still, I have a feeling this won't be the only interesting thing I see today. Zan didn't know how right he was, unfortunately. The day had barely begun...
The crane was raised up from below the deck and extended up in full. Taking the orders of their superiors from the bridge, the two workers started moving the crane with tandem and precise mechanical controls to lift up a weighted box from the deck and stack it onto a larger pile. The boxes had notches located on their undersides so that they would lock in place when stacked on top of each other and not be at risk to sliding around haphazardly during a storm. From the bridge the captain watched along with his guests, the captain and first-mate of their imposing ship.
"That's all kinds of awesome and cool" Bard said in a low, awed voice. "It's so cool. So coooool. My voice-box shut itself down because I want to scream at how cool that is."
"For once your body is useful, then" Rez said with a snap. He pushed away from the window and took a seat, screeching a metal chair across the floor to sit in. "I guess that has an interesting purpose, but I can't see it. Unless that thing can pick up and aim a cannon."
"We're working on that" said Captain Nepals. After returning from Gretta's attack, he had taken off his arms and was no more a danger to Bard than any civilian man would be. He was a young man as well, just a few years older than Bard, and sported a thin strip of beard from his lip to the tip of his chin while wearing the rest of his brown hair pressed and slicked back over his head. He was dressed to lead in a traditional, shoulder-corded blue Navy suit and on his belt he wore a buckle of the Marine symbol. "So, Captain Bard, where is your second-hand man that you said was nearby?"
"Who knows?" Bard said with a shrug. "He could be anywhere at anytime, killing anybody."
"No!" the captain exclaimed. "Hasn't there been enough violence already?" Rez leaned back and looked up at the ceiling of the command room. There was a bulge distending down from above that slowly formed itself into the shape of a man pushing through a thin membrane of fleshy coating. Rez fell back from his chair and scurried away in fear as Zan fell down from above. The captain of the ship looked up at the swell of metal and widened his eyes while sucking in his lips. Zan landed on a table with his hands in his pockets and nodded his head coolly.
"Good day" he greeted. Bard turned around and grinned. He stepped over and took Zan's shoulder in a brotherly tug.
"Captain" Bard began, "this is Zan Edwards, the Assassin!" The captain, with hardly the sense to stay sitting still, simply sputtered out his lips and slowly rose his nervous, shaking hand up with a wave. "Zan, this is Alan Nepals, Captain of this ship!"
"Interesting" Zan said. He hopped down from the table, jumping past Alan and slapping his held-up hand as he went. His chair was tilted back from the high-five and his near-unconscious body added the weight to the back that made it start to tip. Zan caught him and stopped him from falling, prompting Alan to awaken and scramble out of his seat in great alarm. He crawled onto the table but was stopped from a screaming retreat by Bard. "You seem to know about me, or are you just scared of the word 'assassin'?" Alan looked up at Bard and saw him smile.
"He hasn't killed anyone since he joined my crew" Bard said. "I think he's trying to reform himself."
"Uh..." Zan spoke, not being heard. He looked around at the interior of the bridge and all its strange consoles and stands, much like the ones that were down below which operated the crane. Then, out the window, Zan saw the crane moving and working on the deck. "Well, well. This is quite the mystery ship, isn't it? How does it all work?"
"Oh, I'm glad you asked" Alan said, straightening himself up. He moved beside Zan, apparently unafraid, and smiled as he looked out the window. "This ship is, in a sense, my birthright. I was born into a genius family, which is more of a simple standard where I come from, and ever since I was a child I had dreamed of designing the most efficient and well-built transport ship that would ever sail."
"An island of geniuses?" Zan said. "Possibly, are you from Karakuri Island, Captain Nepals?"
"How did you know?" Alan exclaimed.
"I used to be a Revolutionary" Zan said "and I worked with many outstanding men of incredible variation in profession. A shipwright I knew hailed from Karakuri, the land of the world's most powerful force of intellect."
"Indeed" Nepals said "and his reputation seems to precede that of every other citizen of the island. It's a constant race to inherit his will, some say, but I fail to see such a thin competition over something as minute as fame to be the reason for doing good, hard work. This ship of mine is meant to benefit all mankind, Marine or Pirate or anything in-between. That is my dream."
"So that's why there are so many pipes below the deck" Zan said with a smirk. Alan looked up at him, no sign of fear at all but a sense of conflict and protest in his eyes. He smirked it off and turned back to the deck of his ship and the infinite waters ahead.
"This ship," he began, "the Naughtilus, was designed from the ground up in my youth. It is powered by generating steam from a massive boiler located at the aft of the ship, below several hulls of metal under this bridge. That heat and power is directed to the four propellers and dual-rudder system which pushes the ship forward, wind or not, in any measure of thrashing sea. No wave can toss the great weight of this ship. Its metal hull is nigh-invincible to cannon-fire at any angle. The boxes in which we fit our supplies can only be lifted by the crane on deck! This ship is virtually impervious to all forms of attack or disability. Once I present it to the World Government, a commission to create an armada of 'Naughtili' will surely come through and my name shall be made equal to his, bringing the pride of succession to my family and my island at last." Bard was sleeping. Too long of a monologue to stay awake through. Rez, however, managed to hone in on the keener details that Alan seemed to cross.
"If you want this ship available to everyone" Rez began "then why are you presenting it to the World Government?"
"Corruption runs eternally deep in this world" Alan said. "If a ship or two would slip into the hands of Pirates one way or another, what could I do to stop it?" There was a hint of nefarious intention to Alan's face, but Rez saw past it. He saw the raw determination that made such a distant glare, the same kind of fearsome, battle-ready glare that his fool of a captain often gave when he faced the horizon. To that, Rez grinned.
"That is a good dream" he said. "Seems sort of dangerous, in any sense, to go across this ocean alone all the way to Marineford, though. There are much worse men than us roaming the open waters, you know."
"Yeeaaaahhh" Alan said. "I guess that was just a stroke of luck. Incidentally, would you men mind escorting my ship to the nearest Marine-settled island?"
"We're pirates" Rez said, bluntly and as a pure statement of fact. After a short silence he brushed his nose and sniffed at some nasal discomfort.
"It might be a poor idea" Zan said "for us to sail into a Marine-controlled harbor. Not that we wouldn't do it, but I doubt it'd end well for us."
"Well, that's true, of course" Alan said. Bard's foot swung up and hit the table. He was only half-awake but his eyes were open enough to be conscious and aware of the situation.
"Our ship" Bard said "would get noticed a while ahead of yours. However, if you had some faithful defenders on deck with you, we could disappear from sight entirely and let you pull into whatever port it is. Then, while we dock at an unseen end of the island, my crew can disembark and gather up the guards we lent you before the Marines manage to ask any questions with the word 'pirates' in them."
"Not a bad idea, Bard" Zan said. "Depending on where we're going, that sounds like an ideal course of action."
"I'm impressed" Rez said. "We'd have to take a lot into consideration, of course, but it's perfect as a draft." Bard gave a wide grin and chuckled arrogantly.
"I always get good ideas coming out of naps!" Bard said. "Most of the time, though, it relates to training and stuff." Bard's carefree grin resonated with Alan's and they both started to laugh together. Rez and Zan grinned at their joviality as well. Bard kicked himself up with a stomp to the metal floor and rolled his shoulders back to stick out his chest. "We'll do it! However, I have some conditions that I want to address!"
"Well, hopefully they won't be unreasonable" Alan said. Rez sighed and Zan laughed his head to the side.
"First" Bard began, holding up a finger, "I want to try and flip your ship!"
"NO!" Rez shouted.
"Okay then" Bard said, not even allowing Alan to make the decision on his own. "Second, in addition to the proper guard to keep your ship safe, I want some minor compensation in the form of supplies." He then turned to Rez. "What are we low on?"
"You don't even know?" Rez growled. He sat up and went over his most recent list of inventory in his head. "We've eaten nothing but fish for a while and our last barrel of good pressed flour just got infested with bugs. Most of the men want more substantial meat, even if it's still fish."
"We have plenty of meat to spare" Alan said. "That will be no problem at all."
"Also" Bard said "I want one of those boxes for my own, but I want it cut in half with a huge metal bar so I can bench-press it." Rez kicked him from his seat.
"Uh, I don't think that's possible" Alan said. Zan sighed with amusement and leaned his back against the window.
"You asked for it, Sir Nepals" Zan said. "Prepare to bear witness to the staggering mind that is our Captain."
"How about a grand tour?" Bard asked.
"Oh, that'd be perfectly good of me to do" Alan said "as payment or not."
"Also, can you make my ship metal too?"
"Uh, no, that'd be fairly impossible to do."
"Make metal sails?"
"Also impossible."
"Build a man made of metal that can shoot BEAMS from his chest and breathe winds that can liquify his enemies!"
"That's just all kinds of impossible!" Such exchange continued for a while. Rez eased into it and let his rage subdue him into a lull of rest. Zan, however, kept his back to the window to measure its chill. The window itself wasn't cold as the sun was still warming the air even with the Naughtilus covered by the Imperial Dragon's shadow. Those chills were of his own keen awareness, a sense of danger sparking off intermittently as if an enemy was close by, constantly moving, and constantly watching...
Gazing straight out into the stretching horizon, not letting her vision stray by any measure at all, Gretta continued to hold the ship steadily sailing ahead. The Naughtilus beside it continued to push along, just barely touching the hull of the Dragon as Gretta kept it optimally steady. Even in her deep concentration, however, her guilt seemed to soak through and invaded her thoughts.
How could I have been so brash? She thought. Those men were unarmed when I challenged them. Is it even noble to fight those with no intention of fighting? Regardless of whether they had armed themselves or not, I victimized them thoroughly in fighting them. I suppose such a thing happens all too often in the life of a pirate, but can we as a crew accept such a thing? Bard's innocence, while annoying, resonates with a deep and noble sense of pride. He doesn't sully his hands with unwant violence at a whim. He has reason for his foolish actions, and he never thinks about death unless it is a consequence to himself. Even when he killed my father, he did so not out of any emotional commitment but to protect all others at the expense of his own health and well-being. Am I good enough to do that? When I see an enemy that can no longer fight me, will I be able to make the right decision regarding his life? What will I do...?
The rest of the crew continued to work as per normal. They had gotten over their depression, mostly, and were keeping track of their speed and the conditions on the opposite ship. The deck was abuzz with the regular sounds of work, yet no one managed to notice the subtle silence in the background that was often otherwise filled by something they had all come to know so well. They could hear waves crashing and birds calling and even the wind as it swept across the fine, tough wood of the deck. However, they could only hear all of that by not hearing a louder and much more obnoxious sound.
Gretta heard someone walking behind her but she kept her eyes forward. The person moved into a chair and leaned against it with a creak of its wooden frame.
"It's a nice sight, isn't it?" spoke the man in a deep, full voice. "It's such a great smell, too. The smell of the sea."
"I've gotten too used to it already" Gretta said, engaging without turning her head or eyes. "The sea seems to intrude on every aspect of life when you live on it. All our food, water and air comes from the sea somehow. It's harder to smell things other than the sea most of the time."
"But still" said the man "you can't deny that it's nice. Being able to experience something as grand as the ocean, for all of its miracles and catastrophes, makes life worth living." Gretta kept herself sealed off. She let the man enjoy himself in his basking on he Upper Deck without questioning why he wasn't working. Gretta stayed focused on the horizon where the blues met with speckled white, ignoring her company for the most part. "I wish I were alive enough to experience all of this with you guys. But then, a dead man can't take too much joy out of the world since he never opens his eyes." Gretta became stunned. She steeled her nerves to keep her head from turning but she still managed to know who was talking to her. With dark, greasy strands of hair, like thick tentacles, billowing in the tie behind his head, 'Graveshift' Maxwell the eternal sleeper leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the rail that surrounded the wheel of the ship.
"I have a question" Gretta began. "Just who...are you?" Maxwell smirked with his stubble-covered mouth and tilted his head back.
"An old man" Maxwell replied "who just sleeps all day long. That's who I've become..." Gretta felt tempted to turn her head and look. She had never seen him awake and was infinitely curious of so many things. She wanted to see his eyes and his grin and whatever other features she lacked seeing which produced such a handsome voice, but she forced herself to stay diligent and constant in her task to sail ahead. Instead of turning she simply grinned as she heard a deep breathing begin from Maxwell's position.
"Thank you" she said. "I'll try to appreciate this a little more because of yo-" And thus the snoring resumed, cutting Gretta off with a monstrously loud snort. She lost all emotion in an instant and glared forward with her eyes half-drawn in lost humor. More men came up to the deck and stopped around Maxwell.
"How'd he get up here?" one wondered, speaking between the loud snores.
"Hey!" Gretta shouted. "Can you put him somewhere less disruptive? Like the brig?"
"Don't be so cold!" Marco exclaimed. "This man is our hero, you know! He's like a second father or older brother to a lot of us!" Maxwell's snoring started to shake the very floor. The vibrations traveled into the wheel which shook in place from Gretta's hands. "Okay, we'll get him out of here" Marco said. He and his fellows picked up his chair and carried him away, his snoring decreasing in volume but still easily heard until he was finally taken into the Under Deck. The girl smirked and started to laugh.
"Idiots" she said, stopping herself from breaking out into full laughter. Still, she kept smiling as she stared ahead at the beautiful horizon. "I guess I couldn't ask for anything better right now..." Suddenly, more stomping came from behind Gretta, heavy and rushed. She was turned around by a gentle pull at her shoulder and saw Bard standing behind her.
"Having fun?" he asked. Gretta snapped back to the wheel and found her center of focus again, desperate to keep the ship straight. "I guess you are...weird. Anyway, if you want to apologize to Napals' crew, you don't have worry about it! The nurses fixed up all the guys you hurt, so there's no problem anymore!"
"..." Gretta remained passive and silent.
"Oh, and those guys also forgave you already" Bard said. "They said they didn't mind the pain and took it as a lesson to be more prepared. You actually helped them, showing them that they needed to be more alert and on guard while on duty!"
"..." Gretta continued to not speak.
"So if you want" Bard continued "you can stop and come onto the ship with me. I'm taking Araly, since its flat and made of metal, so she shouldn't get too seasick from walking around."
"And if she does?" Gretta asked.
"Uh" Bard began, clueless as usual. "Well, then I guess she's just cursed or something. There's got to be a ship out there that she can walk on, though. I don't believe that she can never be able to stand on any ship that sails on the sea!"
"Well, fine then" Gretta said. "I have to steer the ship, though."
"No you don't" Bard said. "We can just lock the wheel in place! Rez said so."
"You ordered me to fill in for Rez, did you not?" Gretta asked. Bard stopped himself and pressed his chin to think.
"Uh, no" he replied. "I asked you to get Rez for me. He put you in charge of steering by himself." Gretta clutched the handles of the wheel hard, though her face remained placid and devoid of expression. Bard hopped to the edge of the Upper Deck and leaned over the rail. "Hey! Someone come up here and steer! Gretta's gotta go to the other ship!"
"I've got it, Captain!" called Jacques Barbel from his position at the port-side Grand Mast. He rushed up to the helm of the deck and politely pushed Gretta aside. His grip was intense and his glare was full of raw battle-ready malevolence.
"Keep it straight" Gretta said "and slow. That's it."
"I'll do my damned best!" he exclaimed. "I'll show you all what I'm capable of! MY STRENGTH-"
"You're slipping" Gretta said, pointing to his hands. He panicked and re-gripped the handles. Bard locked the wheel in place using two rods that folded up from the floor and handed Jacques a chair.
"Just keep it locked, pal" Bard said. "Be at ease, unless something bad happens!"
"Aye aye!" Jacques said. He then sat, somehow intensely, behind the self-steering wheel. Gretta kept her eye on the wheel, even as she moved away from it, and looked off into the horizon. Her vision had tunneled a perfect point that extended from the bow, and now she saw it at an angle. She became amazed by her own focus and concentration and at the same time glad that she had managed to do something so great with such small effort. Then she took a deep breath in and smiled at the scent.
