A.N.: These next five chapters will get very dark and include more Doflamingo spoilers, violent deaths, beatings, gore, and implied torture.
I want to start getting back to the present, so I'll be posting one chapter a week with a second filler chapter right after. Once I get back to Karmen, I'll go back to posting every two weeks.
This unit also takes place right after the banquet at Baldwin's manor.
Pain. That was the last thing Antwan Geraldo remembered before waking up rocketing over the ocean. It wasn't even a full-body beating pain, even though he did have some handprint bruises forming around the scar-tissue lettering on his chest. The last thing he remembers is that he was sent ahead of Ikaika to Baldwin's manor and had encountered Karmen and her crew as they were departing. She'd stuck him with something. It was a slight prick, like being stung by a bee, and suddenly he'd lost all connections with time, space, and reality. Now, as the ocean races up to meet him, he has to think quickly to keep from drowning. "Ultimate cocoon!" He shoots thousands of strands of silk from his hands, surrounding himself in a light-blocking, air-tight ball. It isn't the best solution, but it's enough to cushion him as he smashes through the water's surface tension, bounces up, and bobs into a float. When he stops moving long enough, he punches his way through, hoping he's not smashing his way into the ocean. He creates a small hole, letting in sunshine, and tears his way out, cursing the whole way. When he can climb out he takes stock of his location. The sun is setting and he can still feel some of the poison lingering in his system. His mind is in a fog and he feels like he's wavering from more than just the ocean. He decides to wait a little while for it to clear out as he comes to his conclusion that he's in the smack dab middle of nowhere, oceanfront vista. Still, something instinctual tells him that if he flies off slightly to his left he'll reach land.
Something inside him had altered since he ate that artificial devil fruit, even more than the white horns on his head would suggest. His instincts were heightened to an animalistic level, his empathy had nearly been extinguished, not that he had much to begin with, he constantly needed sugar, he'd become more nocturnal, and he'd grown an unquenchable longing for the moon. Now as the sun finishes setting on the horizon with a green flash and the last visages of light fade after it, he looks up at the round face, filled with craters and glowing softly in the night sky. Almost unconsciously, he grows a set of four wings and leaps for it, flying in the direction his gut pulls him in.
By the first rays of morning light, he can see Baldwin's Manor sitting on the cliff. When he gets closer, he can make out teams of doctors administering treatment to several nobles with blue tinted skin. "What happened here?" he asks, pulling one of them to a halt.
"All the guests were poisoned but plenty antidote was left, a lot of servants were seen running away, pirates attacked only to leave empty-handed, Willow, Ludovic, and Baldwin are missing but no one thinks they were kidnapped, and we're told Lady Karmen was attacked by assassins and went over the balcony, presumed dead." He speaks as if he's been repeating himself all night. He's tired and worn thin and fully annoying. Geraldo doesn't bother correcting his last statement. He'd report straight to the top about what he'd seen. He releases the doctor to his work and steps out onto the balcony. He looks over the railing at the ocean far, far below. Even for someone who can grow wings, the drop is dizzying. How Karmen had survived that fall is beyond him, but those Straw Hat pirates she'd been traveling with couldn't be underestimated. He'd found that out himself. Even just that swordsman, Roronoa Zoro, had proven a challenge. Some days the name carved on his back still aches. If their captain was stronger than him, then it might be easy to survive a jump like that. In the end, the how doesn't matter. All he needs to know is that it happened, and she'd gotten away once again. The fact that she could fight now surprises him. He must have taken her by surprise before. Still, she'd relied heavily on her crewmembers just to get a chance to hit him. If it had just been the two of them, she'd be cocooned in front of her father right now.
Geraldo is sitting on the balcony railing with one foot dangling into oblivion, still looking at the water below, when the room behind him goes silent. There's only one person who could command a room by just stepping in. He stands and turns around, arm automatically coming up to salute Ikaika. "Sir." He has his black hair combed away from his face and wears a sharp silk suit that probably cost more than Geraldo was paid in a year. He looks angry, but thankfully that anger is not directed at him.
"And what do you have to report?" His words are harsh and strained with annoyance, obviously from hearing one of the doctors give the same report he had, but the fact that he desires Geraldo's take on things fills him with pride. It takes immense self-control to keep the corners of his mouth pulled down.
Geraldo motions towards the cliff with his head. "I don't know how she did it, but I've seen her since. Karmen and her crew destroyed my ships. I had her cornered, but she managed to drug me and I woke up flying through the air." He nods with his forehead to all the recovering nobles in the ballroom. "I believe that was her work too."
"What of my wife and her brother?" he asks, looking a little calmer. "And the groom?"
"If the captain got to them they probably got hit with the same thing I did," Geraldo muses. "The records the marines provided say one of his favorite finishing moves sends people flying for miles."
Ikaika gets a thoughtful expression. "We could use this to our advantage. Which way were the pirates headed?"
"Towards the Red Line," he answers. "I can have men close in on their location in half a day. Just provide me with a ship. I'll get her back and have her begging for mercy at your feet."
"You think like a bounty hunter, boy," Ikaika says, but not harshly. "Still, I believe Willow will have family in the area. We'll make sure Marine presence is heightened." His gaze turns businesslike. "How much money would it take for you to start thinking like a mercenary and take orders from me instead of my wife?"
Geraldo crosses his arms and grins. "I'm sure we can negotiate a salary, boss." They make their way back through the ballroom and he can't help but notice the state of the people around them. "Do you need to compensate the guests somehow?" he asks.
Ikaika gives a flippant, dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll send them all cases of wine. I see the company going in a different direction." Curiosity gnaws at him, but he's a hired gun, not an advisor. He doesn't ask questions. He follows orders.
He considers what he'd just been offered. Willow had been good to him. She'd hired him on at a young age. His parents had abandoned him in the streets and he killed a man, intending to sell the rifle he carried. Instead, he learned to use it and became one of the best sharpshooters on the island. He'd tried to kill Willow once. That's how he'd gotten his job in the first place. A man named Zaytsev had shot his bullet out of the air in a feat of beautiful marksmanship. He'd been beaten black and blue for it, but the sniper had recognized his potential and asked if he could take Geraldo on as an apprentice. Willow gave a dismissive shrug and said, "If he dies, you get to clean up the mess," which was the best anyone could hope for in ways of approval from her back then.
It was hard training and he thought he might actually die and make her words come true, especially walking across the steep rooftops during hurricanes, but he'd made it through. Geraldo worshiped the very ground Zaytsev walked on. Eventually, he earned Willow's favor as well, even getting a position on her personal sniper team. He learned to shoot, to look down on commoners, to kill with reckless abandon.
The years passed and soon Geraldo became the second best sharpshooter in the unit and was fairly decent in hand to hand combat. Zaytsev took him on every mission to chase down an escaped slave or to dispose of a pirate who'd been giving the DavenGallow trade ships trouble and collect the bounty on their heads. Willow usually let them keep that as a bonus to their normal salaries. Being a Dragon and owning her own company, she didn't need it. They would divide it up amongst themselves. Those at the top received bigger cuts, which meant that as he rose through the ranks to second in command, Geraldo started turning a pretty profit. Some nights he'd sit in his room, adding up the numbers on his bank notes. He'd never live on the streets again, so long as he kept his employers happy.
Geraldo had it made. Zaytsev was like a father to him, he had a secure living situation and income, and he got to kill almost anyone he wanted. Almost being the keyword. Willow's daughter Karmen had an affinity for collecting the most untouchable annoyances there are. She always had that brat following her around, glaring at anyone who got close and using a myriad of weapons. He never could pick a single style, but he liked close combat items. He was a gift from her Warlord, apparently street rat turned soldier. Being Karmen's personal guard, he was allowed to live in the main house and was well respected, especially among the government agents. He was a foreign boy with tanned skin who kept his hair in a long ponytail. Rumors said Karmen trimmed it for him every once and a while, but it was more likely that the butler, Godwin, did it. He had a tendency to tear up his clothing and break his weapons on the job, whether it were defending Karmen from kidnappers and assassins or following his lady's orders. The boy was shiftier than his gray eyes. Who had gray eyes? Geraldo would like nothing more than to grind that passive face into the dirt and show him his place, but Karmen was untouchable, which meant he was untouchable, and that made him furious. The biggest obstacle between Peirce's gut and Geraldo's fist was that bible-toting Warlord. The man unsettles him with his silent, inexpressive face. He barely said anything, but Karmen adored him. Every time he showed up, they had to have a cutesy little tea party where she jabbers on in five different languages and he sits there, stone-faced, listening. It was Geraldo's idea of torture, but the bear-man never complained once. In fact, he sat there for hours and did his best to come at least once a month. He spent more time listening to Karmen than he did talking with Ikaika and Willow.
And if that wasn't bad enough, the company he kept was just as unpleasant. On top of him bringing men wearing dresses, fishnet stockings, and tall boots, the Government occasionally sent other Warlords to keep an eye on him. He'd seen Dracule Mihawk several times and Jinbe with him at least once. Karmen fawned over them just as much, recognizing them from the few times she'd been allowed to visit Mariejois with Kuma when he and the Gallowcombs were headed in the same direction. He'd fly ahead with her and take her to Sabaody Archipelago before moving on to make his obligatory meetings. These visits were always pre-arranged and soldiers and agents were stationed ahead of time and kept a very close watch. They'd pick her up from outside the meeting room in a government or marine facility. She didn't seem to like Crocodile and liked Hancock's snake more than the woman herself, not that Kuma would ever let her near either of those three. Gecko Moria was rarely present at the meetings Karmen was brought to, but when he was, the others kept her well away from him and his shadow. Doflamingo's obsession with the girl never made sense to Geraldo. Maybe he liked her manipulative nature and her ability to gather information. He never caught her learning the secrets she knew, but when she revealed one of them it showed that she wielded just as much power as her parents, she just didn't use it often. Her quiet selectiveness added to her powerful presence. Everyone knew to be cautious around her, even her own father. He wonders how much information she has stored away to twist peoples arms until she got her way. The thought was frightening. Between her family, her guard, and her connections, the girl had more protection than the void century.
Luckily Willow kept him busy enough that he didn't often interact with Karmen's guests. Not all could be peacefully hunting and pleasant slaughter all the time. Every now and then one mission would stick with him. He would remember every missed target, every time a mark nearly got the upper hand, every time a slave would rather commit suicide instead of returning to the DavenGallow site where they would have been killed anyway to make an example. Zaytsev always made him clean up after himself to teach him duty and responsibility or something along those lines. Everything he did had to show his loyalty and reverence for the Gallowcomb family.
And then, not too long ago, there came the ultimate test of loyalty. Willow called him down to the courtyard as the sun was setting, painting the sky a blazing red. She stood there with Zaytsev's favorite rifle leaned against one shoulder. Karmen stood beside her, her face void of emotion and her eyes trained forward on the gun's owner. Pierce stood just behind her left shoulder, fist clenched and gray eyes attentive on his charge. Zaytsev himself sat on his knees, hogtied in front of Willow. The story was that his mentor had slipped the wrong information to the wrong person and he would answer for his grave mistake. Willow turned and held the rifle out to Geraldo, barrel momentarily pointed at her own gut. It was time for him to chose his loyalty, she told him.
Geraldo took the gun, hands shaking slightly. For a brief second, he kept it trained on Willow. She stood unblinking and held her hand out towards Zaytsev. Geraldo turned and leveled the rifle at his teacher, his friend. With a deep breath, his hands steadied and his mind cleared. He looked down the barrel at Zaytsev's wide eyes. In that moment he should have remembered the years of training, working, and eating with each other, the camaraderie and the gratitude. He should have, but when he looked into those eyes, all he saw was a fast track to his promotion, wealth, and power. He pulled the trigger and felt no remorse.