Off the coast of Rodo-Rodo Island, 10 miles from TerraTerra Town…
A newspaper's pages rustled in the wind of yet another overcast morning on the Grand Line, an engraged glower on the reader's face. If the freckled face on the wanted poster wasn't enough to boil his blood, the increased amount of Beri's underneath the photo brought him close to an aneurism. He angrily took a gulp of rum, the alcohol doing little to bring down his ire.
"Captain, last month's hit on the Navy warship brings your bounty up to 450 Million Beris!" A burly pirate exclaimed. The pair of frenzied eyes peering up from the newspaper quickly made him regret his outburst.
"That's not fucking good enough!" The burly pirate ducked, narrowly avoiding the rum-filled goblet clanging against the galley walls. "That Goddamned Fire Fist Ace. I'm still 100 million short of him!"
The burly pirate slowly lifted his lowered head, his other crewmates trembling with fear. "But Captain Vallo, this'll all change when we bring the best milk on the Grand Line to Big Mom's next tea party." The burly pirate spoke quickly, his voice trembling from fear. "Once we've secured an alliance with the Great Sea Empress that East Blue brat will no longer be a match for us." He hoped his words brownnosed words would be enough to curb his captain's anger.
"You're fucking right about that." Vallo grunted, annoyed at hearing firstmate state the obvious. "Get me some more rum, Smigz."
"Aye Aye! Right away, captain!" Smigz, hobbled away fearfully, moving surprisingly fast for his burly frame.
He leaned back into his captain's chair, his hand clutching the scar on his right cheek. "Fire Fist? Hmph!" He spat in disgust. A few pirates looked at their captain with sympathy. Vallo looked up. "And just what the fuck are you all staring at? Get back to work, or I'll feed you to the SeaKings!"
"Yes sir!"
"Aye Captain Vallo!"
"Sorry, Captain."
At 8 feet tall, 340 pounds with the ripped frame of a Shandorian warrior on steroids, Vallo D. Erzas, captain of the Copy Cat Pirates was quickly gaining notoriety on the Grand Line for his brutality and utter disregard for human life.
Friend or foe. Enemy or crewmate. It made no difference, Vallo saw every person as a tool for his ambition, a rung to be climbed over on the ladder to his goal. The World Government had taken notice, approaching him with an offer of Warlord status. However, after hearing how Fire Fist Ace had turned them down, Vallo, not wanting to be outdone by that East Blue bastard, cut the hands off the emissary sent to bring him the request and burned the letter from the World Government. And if that wasn't enough to raise his bounty, his raids on Navy ships certainly catapulted the beris under his name.
Vallo spat out the tobacco he'd been chewing. "Where's my rum, Smigz?"
"Right here, sir." Vallo gave his firstmate a murderous glance and snatched the goblet from his hands.
"Get out of my sight and tell the men to stay the fuck away from me. I feel like I might kill one of them today."
"Aye." Smigz lowered his eyes as he hobbled away, taking a sudden interest in the intricacies of the Chamille Leona's wood deck.
Vallo watched his annoying firstmate walk away. How could Mother Sea have cursed him with such idiots for crewmembers? Vermin, the whole lot of them. He thought. He took a swig of rum, his anger flaring up yet again as he felt a tap on his shoulders. Who would be stupid enough to disturb him, now of all times? He relaxed after hearing a soft pur. He picked up the Bengal cat from his shoulder and placed him on his lap. "Oh, Simon, it's just you." The cat purred, happy to get a scratch behind the ears. "Simon, you're the only one I can count on. My crewmembers are a bunch of idiots and my firstmate is a fat buffoon." Simon mewed innocently.
Smigz shook his head, watching his captain from the other side of the deck. What happened to you? What turned you against your crew?
Vallo's mouth curled into a perverse smile. Portogas, you cocky son of a bitch. He took gulp from his goblet and leaned back into his seat. You keep on hiding behind Whitebeard. You keep raising your bounty. A fattened prey only means a bigger kill for the lion hunting it."
Vallo laughed, the sound of his drunken guffaws echoed throughout the galley, filling the Chamille Leona's crew with terror. Their captain was not to be disturbed.