Chapter 19: Outsiders Present Perspective! Views From Across the Seas!
While the Straw Hat Pirates continued their journey towards the Kingdom of Alabasta, the rest of the world kept moving forward. The seas were home to many kinds of people, all who lived their lives. But this is not about their fairly insignificant lives.
These figments are of special people, Outsiders to this world's natural order, much like the three traveling with the Straw Hats. But they are naught but small fragments of something a much larger.
The Blue Sea, the world itself was only starting to feel these small ripples as they took form…
-o~O-O~o-
[Reverse Mountain, Twin Cape]
"Sarururu!" A cheerful individual with non-human features, easy enough to mistake for a Monkey Mink, laughed uproariously at a familiar story while sitting cross-legged on the ground, facing the keeper of the local lighthouse. "Man, these Straw Hats sound like a riot!"
"Captain, please!" An almost skeletally thin man exclaimed, almost pleadingly. "Our ship almost sunk because of that whale! Please focus!"
"Ahh, relax, Trippy," The monkey-man waved off his subordinates concerns with his tail. "It's not like they meant to do it." Laboon made a booming cry in response, to which the monkey-man replied in distinct understanding, "Hey, as long as you say you're sorry, it's cool!"
"Stone Monkey"
[Sun Wukong, ?]
(Captain of the Stone Monkey Pirates)
Bounty: 60,000,000 Beri
"But that doesn't change the fact that we're stranded here!" The man called Trippy emphasized by pointing at their beached shipcurrently undergoing repairs at the hands of a female Orca Fishman. The front of the bow had almost been totally obliterated.
"Eh, Sandy can deal with that," the captain of the vessel shrugged, turning his focus on the person he was previously conversing with. "Now, old guy, you got any more stories like that? I got a feeling you've lived quite a life."
"Hmph," Crocus scoffed, smiling despite himself. "Sure, if you can spare some drinks."
"Deal!" The monkey-man agreed without pause. "Hey, Porco, bring a barrel of sake over! And then make some grub! We're gonna celebrate crossing that tall-ass mountain!"
"Sure thing, boss!" shouts the rotund form of the crew's cook, a Boar Mink named Porco, before disappearing inside the damaged vessel.
At a loss at his captain's absolute refusal to take this seriously, Trippy couldn't do much but gape at how care-free the monkey-man was. Then he ducked on instinct as a hammer flew over his head and conked the captain of their vessel on the side of the head, sending them on the ground.
"You ain't celebrating for nothing until you help me un-fuck the bow," Sandy the Orca Fishman stated, stalking over. Despite her fishman heritage, it still surprised Trippy that the black and white-skinned woman was actually rather small, at least compared to Trippy's own tall, lanky frame.
"Ship Breaker"
Sandy (22)
Shipwright and First-Mate of the Stone Monkey Pirates
Bounty: 45,000,000 Beri
"Ow, I was just saying that this is a monumental occasion-YEOUHC!"
"Less lip, fix ship," Sandy growls, practically dragging their fool of a captain by the ear towards the broken vessel, grabbing her large iron hammer in passing. The monkey-man could only weakly resist and whine, despite every one of the crew knowing full well just how freakishly strong their captain was.
Or maybe Sandy was just that terrifying for a reason.
"Hah," the lighthouse keeper chuckles mirthfully. "You lot are quite the characters."
"I-I guess," Trippy replied awkwardly.
"The captain is peculiar," a rougher voice spoke up from his position by the ocean, "let that not deceive you. He's a monster when pressed."
Trippy let out a breath. "You know, sometimes it feels like we're the only ones not completely out there, William."
The platinum blonde man dressed like a samurai looks back at the man with steely eyes and a slight grin. "Perhaps. Though we are all odd, in our unique ways." He gave a glance to the almost fey-like woman resembling a Merrow, a sea spirit, floating beside himself that only he could see, smiling at him warmly. "Maybe you'd be surprised."
"Hey, stop flirting with your spirit girlfriend and come help here!" Wukong exclaims in the middle of nailing a board to the damaged bow. "The sooner Sandy gets off my tail, the sooner we can party-YOUCH!"
Sandy twirls her hammer in her hand, glaring murder at the monkey captain rubbing the back of his head. "No distractions, Capitan! The Flying Nimbus demands your attention."
"Yeah, yeah," Wukong grumbles, taking another nail and hammering it in place with the enthusiasm of a dog who wanted walkies, only to be denied until they finished their unappealing meal. Necessary to live, but that didn't mean the dog would enjoy it.
William shakes his head in amusement and stands up, deciding to help his captain with his punishment for endangering the crew with his recklessness. It was chaotic, disastrous, and the most exciting his life had been in months.
"Come along, Saoirse," William speaks to his unseen companion. "Let's save the monkey's hide."
~{Of course, dear William.}~
[William Adams, 42]
(Swordsman and Navigator of the Stone Monkey Pirates)
"Uhh, who are you talking to?" Trippy asks, confused, even more so when he receives no answer as the swordsman passes him. "William? Hey… William?!"
-o~O-O~o-
[-Kingdom of Alabasta, Rain Dinners-]
Beneath the sheen and splendor of the Rain Dinners resort and casino, a truly nefarious meeting was taking place, as Mr.0, Sir Crocodile of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and Miss All-Sunday sat on their respective seats. And along with them, just off-camera sat the unknown third executive of Baroque Works.
"You- *much* -know," the person off-camera said in the middle of munching on something ambiguously resembling food, "sight gags- *munch* -really don't work- *munch* -oh, sweet momma this is delish - uh, in text format."
"Mr. Bloody Sunday," Crocodile growled, tempering his patience. "Please do not eat so obnoxiously."
"*munch* M-What? *munch* Thish stuff ish sho ghood, tho!"
"And please do not talk with your mouth full, either." Inside, Sir Crocodile despaired. How he wished to just kill Mr. Bloody Sunday and be done with him and his inane nonsense, if not for his skills and abilities both being invaluable and made the task of offing him more trouble than it was worth.
"Aww, thanks, boss!"
And then there were the times he just knew what you were thinking. It was very annoying, feeling like your thoughts weren't safe even in the confines of your own mind.
"I mean, it's just descriptions, you know?"
"No, I do not," Crocodile growled. Just drink the alcohol. Maybe he will get bored and go away.
"Bored? BORED?!" Mr. Bloody Sunday screamed out of nowhere, as he at times did, rapidly deteriorating into nonsense. "How the hell am I supposed to be bored?! I mean, it's not like I'm being kept at this dank basement while I could be out and about, straight up making pizza slices out of some dude with a bong in a back alley! Nope, this is just the best! I mean, I know my Moe-energy can't be contained and I am waaaay too handsome to share, but gimme a break!
"What, am I- am I not Anime enough for you?! I'll have you know I was once voiced by Dio mother fucking Brando! While at my maximum Anime! How much more Anime can you get?! What, do-do I need some real crazy hair? Am I not enough of a beef-cake? I can get a wig, I'll even get some enhancements for my pecs, so just lo-oove meeee!"
Crocodile snapped and in a moment his right hand was crushing Mister Bloody Sunday's throat to shut his trap. Unfortunately, while he started dehydrating him, he just got slightly quieter.
"No, Croco-Sama! Yamete~!"
Sir Crocodile didn't stop until Mr. Bloody Sunday was little more than a bunch of skin attached to some bones, before letting his shriveled corpse drop dead on the floor.
…
"…L-love y-you too, S-Sand Daddy…"
…
How he wished, how he wished SO BADLY that would actually kill him this time.
"Perhaps I could think some chores for you to run," Miss All-Sunday spoke up with an enigmatic smile.
"What? Nah," Mr. Bloody Sunday cooed at the woman, sitting up, perfectly fine as if all the water from his body hadn't been dried away seconds earlier. "I mean, I wouldn't want to leave you without my wonderful presence, My Dear Sunday-Best!"
Miss All-Sunday shot the other executive a winning smile about as honest as a snake-oil salesman. "I happen to be running low on unmentionables…"
"I AM ON THE CASE, MY BEAUTIFUL DARK MISTRESS!" Mr. Bloody Sunday says, already sprinting up the stairs at top speeds. "On a panty run, and no one to stop me! Suck it, world!"
Crocodile waited until he was dead certain that the raving mad-man in his employ was gone, before sitting back down and just straight up chugging a whole bottle of whiskey. "Urgh! I cannot believe you can control him that easily."
"A privilege of being a woman, I'm afraid," Miss All-Sunday blinked, her left eye currently resting beneath a couple layers bandages. Crocodile eyed the gauze partially covering his right-hand's face.
"Anything new on this 'Diamonds Droog'?" He asked.
"No, I'm afraid," Miss All-Sunday stated, letting her smile drop while touching her covered left eye. "The man is like an imaginary ghost. There is nothing to be found about his origins, or who he works for. Even his Devil Fruit ability is quite odd. I was caught off-guard despite my skill and ability, so he must be highly competent and well trained. The moment he got a good hit in, he just vanished in the momentary distraction and I couldn't find him."
Oh, yes. The man-shaped creature covered in a hard, black shell, who could turn cards into items, and vice-versa. Capable enough to not only evade and flee but injure Miss All-Sunday, who was by no means incompetent. No known origin. No known employer. A whole load of nothing. Crocodile snarled at this absolute enigma. It was a massive headache, and he had to deal with Mr. Bloody Sunday on a daily basis to make sure the mad-man who just loved to run his mouth didn't ruin his perfectly crafted plans by sheer accident.
… Well, at least Mr.2 should be on his way to deal with Mr.3 and his apparent betrayal. That brightened up his day, but only a minuscule amount.
Sir Crocodile took another drink, as had become habit ever since Bloody Sunday came along.
-o~O-O~o-
[-Kingdom of Dressrosa, Home Base of the Donquixote Pirates-]
As amusing as the headache from that particular Storyline is at times, you'll be taking the reigns for the moment. Escaping Nico Robin was by no means easy, but you didn't earn your position by being a weak incompetent. That scar on her face will serve as a permanent reminder to not be so overconfident just because of her undeniable skill and ability. Which leads you to what you were doing while passively paying attention to the mad idiot in red spandex.
"Fuffuffuffu!" Your boss chuckles in his distinct way, as many in this world are to do, reading the report you wrote up as you narrated it from memory. "My, Crocodile has some nerve, trying to copy my handiwork like that."
You note that, as the facts of the matter are not widely known, as intended, it's highly unlikely he's doing it on purpose. It is still amusing, on a base level, you admit.
The flashy man grins widely, light glinting off his shades. "Ah, you always have such a sense of humor, Droog!"
You try. You also question if anything is to be done with this information.
"No, no, no," your boss insists with that wicked smile. "Let's see how things play out. It could prove to be a most interesting show to witness the ripples of."
It has been a slow year, yes. You have some predictions on the matter, using the knowledge available to you.
"Nah, keep those to yourself, Droog," your boss waves your notions off. "It'll be much more amusing to see things as they happen. I'll be keeping a keen eye on the news in the near future."
… As your highness wishes. You ask if there is more required of you, or if you can take some time for yourself to rest before your next mission.
"Oh, you've been working so hard, Droog," your boss says, waving his hand lazily at the door. "Go on, enjoy yourself! The whole of the country is in your use, so go wild!"
… You bow deeply and excuse yourself then, backing away until you reach the door and sneak through, closing it behind you. Only then you turn your back to the room and start walking down the many corridors of the castle. Like a healthily paranoid person, who doesn't turn their backs on potential threats.
"Draconian Dignitary"
[Diamonds Droog, ¤%&]
(Intelligence Operative and Member of the Donquixote Pirates)
That is your title card, by the way. Never let it be said you never do, as they say, 'flashy shit'. And yes, your age is none of anyone's beeswax, even if it were that simple question to answer.
Donquixote Doflamingo is a kind of employer you're used to. A sociopathic monarch with more power than they know what to do with. You've served enough of those in your lifetimes. You're honestly impressed with his take-over of the Kingdom of Dressrosa, your new "home", in a single night. Truly, Doflamingo had the devil's luck, and also his brain and ambition. An extremely dangerous combination of traits.
You're pretty low on the totem pole, for now. Not even an officer, but a highly valued information gatherer. But you will rise, of that you have little doubt. It will just take time. And you are an incredibly patient person. For now, you'll continue using your abilities as a spy/scout/info broker, and one day you will stand as one of the officers of the Donquixote Pirates. You are already training with all the information you glean from the other Storylines, in secret, of course.
You may be part of a criminal organization, but that is just more reason to keep your cards close to the chest. Let them assume your abilities of the result of some Devil Fruit you are cagey and evasive about. Let them assume you are weaker than you are in actuality. Let them wonder how you got from the start of Paradise this far into the New World in a matter of days. It will only serve you in the end. Just as the light weight in your inner breast pocket.
But that is for a really rainy day. Your ace in the hole. Perhaps a lesser man would smile menacingly at the power you hold in your pocket, but you are beneath such base behavior.
You also make a bare-bones attempt at knowing the people above you. You'll eventually have to deal with them, more and more. Buffalo and Baby 5 are the ones who most try to talk to you. Buffalo out of intrigue as to your species, which you refuse to answer clearly, as the term Dersite Carapacian means nothing here, so mentioning it would be pointless. Baby 5 is more irritating than anything. You are unsure how such a pathetically weak-willed woman can function on even a base level. She is good at doing chores for you, however. Most of the time you try to keep your distance and not think about her unless a specific need arises.
You do sometimes interact with Monet and Sugar during their little tea parties, which you find at least somewhat endearing. Monet and you get along, as you share similar responsibilities. The woman who looks like a little girl is Doflamingo's secret weapon. Her ability is, in utter honesty, terrifyingly effective. If a dissenter arises, have Sugar take care of them, and all dissent created by that source vanishes. Perfect for covertly keeping control of the masses. Shame that you realized soon enough that her memory erasing ability held no effect over your mind, not that you'd admit to such a thing.
Lao G is an utter annoyance, which is a shame, as you could imagine admiring his analytical abilities and martial skills. Shame the old fart is rapidly going senile. If only he was less eccentric. You don't have much of an opinion on Machvise or Giolla. Machvise tries to do some "friendly" hazing for you when you first joined up, but you quickly made it clear that you were not to be fucked with. His nose was broken for a week after you were done twisting it. And Giolla… honestly, you just despise her taste in art. Yes, you can be petty, you just don't make it into a habit.
Now, Senor Pink would be a man after your own heart. You can appreciate his hard-boiled demeanor, but his fashion sense utterly ruins that for you. Still, the man has his moments that are, if not strange, then damn near admirable. You also appreciate Gladius for his punctuality and seriousness. Reminds you of yourself, honestly, as you both have a bit of a temper and neither of you appreciate those who lessen the quality of your organization. The feeling appears to be at least partially mutual.
Dellinger is just a brat, and not worth even an iota of your time.
Of the three Elite Officers, you can't decide who you respect the least. Trebol is just plain revolting on principle, Pica is much too insecure about his voice and quick to anger even by your standards, and Diamante is too arrogant for his own good. You are glad that you are not under any of them, yet. Acting solo as your one-man reconnaissance unit is good enough for you.
And the less said of Doflamingo, the better. You've served enough crazy bastards to last multiple lifetimes. Which you had, in a very much literal sense. In truth, you hold no true loyalty to anyone in this 'family'. To you, they are a means to an end. But you'll stick with them, for now, while you still have things to gain. And that means being a benefit to the organization and not causing a ruckus.
You stop mid-step, as you sense an invasion into a very personal space. And hear a gasp and sounds of stumbling behind you. You tilt your head back and turn to look without moving your body an inch, just to be efficient and not waste movement needlessly.
On the floor, having fallen on her behind, you see a salacious brunette woman wearing an honestly nice-looking dress. It is also quite provocative, which checks out, as the dames of Dressrosa have a certain reputation. You believe this to be the first time you've seen her.
She is also staring right at you through a hole made with her fingers, wearing an expression of stricken shock.
"Y-you… what are you?" The woman asks, still seeming to stare into your very being… Ah. So that was the intrusion on your mind. A very handy Devil Fruit, you think, quite sure she hears your thoughts.
You tell her to get off the floor. A dame of her caliber should carry herself with more grace than that.
The woman blinks at you while she stands up straight, seeming too distracted to really follow your advice. She's still peeking at your mindscape.
Now then, you ask the dame, what is it that they want from having a looksie into your mind?
"…You're… not human." Evident. "N-no, that is not what I… you are not of this world. And so…" She's holding her head to try to focus, find words. Multi-layered, you provide. "Your memories, your mind, they are… like multiple stacks of memories, multiple identical minds with different experiences stacked on top of one another to make a whole."
You raise your brow, hard as it is to see. That is some incredible observation, you note. You also turn around and face the woman fully, your arms crossed behind your back. You're about a full head taller than her, you note idly.
"A-and your thoughts… what is this way of thinking? It's so…" Narrative based, you provide again. "… Yes. You are… so very strange."
Well, that is rather rude, you dryly remark. You're starting to find this fine dame quite intriguing, given how well she is handling the absolute chronological clusterfuck that composes your consciousness.
"A-and these lines, d-different visions, from all across t-the world, all connected to you, your mind… how… h-how can one make sense of this?" Oh, she can spot the Storylines as well? That is indeed very intriguing. You answer vocally that the secret is diligence, efficiency, and a truly alien mindset. Furthermore- she's losing herself in your mind, you realize with a start. Well, can't have that.
You steadily step close to the woman, whose eyes are starting to shake in their sockets as her body starts to shiver from the sensory overload, unable to stop peering into your mindscape. This is exactly why only you can handle the ability to spy on multiple Outsider Storylines at once. Any longer and the dame's mind would start to shatter from the strain. Thankfully the fix to this dilemma is quite simple.
You daintily raise your naturally armored knuckle and give the dame a sharp knock on the temple. The pain from the quick impact is enough to break her out of her destructive trance with a loud gasp of air, at which point her legs fail her and she'd surely fall if you hadn't caught her by her slender waist with your other arm.
It also seems you forgot just how sharp the edges of your carapace can be, as her temple has a small cut. Entirely harmless, but still unsightly. Well, at least that is proof that not even your mind is devoid of an ability to make small errors like this.
"W-what just…" The woman tries to voice out, grasping onto your suit for support in her woozy state, he mind playing catch-up.
You inform her that information overload is truly a terrifying thing, and advise her not to gaze into your mind again. For her safety, of course.
"T… how do… you function?"
Simple, you utter as you pull out a white handkerchief with your initials and your red diamond symbol stitched on it, and place it on her hand while leading it to push on her head wound. Efficiency is your secret, with a smattering of near paradoxical simultaneous existences. You also apologize for the injury. It truly wasn't your intention to tarnish such flawless features.
"Uh… eh?" The woman stammered, flushing at your words. You merely test to see she can stand on her own, and let her go, stepping back.
You warn her to not be so intrusive next time, and that if she needs anything of you, then to just ask like normal people. You then turn to walk away. You still have relaxing to do, preferably with a good book.
"W-wait!" The woman calls out after you. "What is your name?"
You stop to turn your head to look back at the woman. Seeing no real need to keep your name from someone in this country, you tell her who you are.
Diamonds Droog, at your service, you cordially introduce yourself.
"My name is Violet," the woman says, hand on her chest in some gesture that escapes you. "I'd… like to speak with you, again. If you don't mind."
You simply regard this woman for a moment, considering the offer. You don't smile like some sap, you just don't roll like that. But you do offer her a stoic nod.
She can find you in the library when you are off duty since almost no one ever goes there to actually utilize the facilities for their intended purpose. You tell her you'll be looking forward to it, before turning your attention back to your path, and continuing your way to your little slice of quiet.
"I… I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Droog." You pay mind to the woman's response, but don't stop to acknowledge that you heard.
What a strange encounter, you muse, but not an unpleasant one. You find it a positive surprise that you're actually looking forward to that talk sometime in the future with this Violet dame. Finally, someone in this absolute trash-fire of a crew you can not only stand, but find intriguing enough to bother with, besides Monet and Sugar at times. You do enjoy yourself a cup of tea…
You'll relinquish the narrative now, as you'd love to spend your down-time reading in actual solitude.
But you'll always be watching…
-o~O-O~o-
[-Marineford-]
Stacks. Upon stacks. Upon stacks made of stacks. Paper… There was so much paper…
And it wasn't even noon yet!
With a harrowed groan, the elderly man in a black uniform with a red armband slumped into what little space his desk had to spare.
"Facetious Fool"
[Marine Commodore Das Messer, 89]
(Former Soldier of the SS)
"Reap what you sow," another man of an older persuasion, but younger than the other, said just to the side, tackling his own, severely smaller workload. "Take this as a cautionary tale for, what did you call them? Ah, yes, 'Improvised Vacation Days'."
"How can you be so cruel, King?" The old man with a gray bushy beard, his eyes squinted nearly shut, murmured. "I thought I could count on you, of all people!"
"The Fleet Admiral already gave you your dressing down, so be glad I felt no further need to," the other man, quite old himself with plenty of graying hairs in his formerly fully black hair. "Now cease your excuses! We have work to do. And please, at least wear the coat as a cape if you insist on wearing your old uniform everywhere.."
"B-but my rheumatism!" Messer moaned out, rubbing his back. He could already feel how it would ache later. "My fragile back is only comfortable in this uniform! And you know how I feel about capes…"
"That is none of my concern." The hidden eye behind his decorated white Marine-brand eyepatch rolled at the elderly man's nonsense. "Perhaps this will teach you to take your duties more seriously. And return when your notes say you would."
"Muuuh, but I already made it clear it was outside of my control!" Das Messer groaned, finally picking up some papers and a pen, mentally preparing for the carpal tunnel to come later. "My whole ship was iced to the docks, I tell you! I had to cut it free myself to even be able to make it budge!"
Them old man with the eyepatch took a moment to run his hand through his well-kept mustache in thought. "… You suspect that one of our kind was involved?"
"The Fury"
[Marine Captain: King Bradley, 81]
(Former Fuhrer of Amestris, and The Ultimate Eye)
Messer's demeanor changed, now more serious, even starting to work on his overdue paperwork without a fuss. "I cannot be certain, but my little trip to Loguetown gave me a… feeling. It wasn't concrete, but I could clearly feel something at the time." He let out a sigh. "I really need to train up my Observation. Again."
"Be less lazy, you mean," Bradley corrected. "If you'd just do the mandatory training periods to keep your skills sharp, this wouldn't even be an issue in the first place."
"Come now, King! Give an old man some slack," Messer pleaded in jest. "My Armament's as good as ever… Observation just doesn't come easy for me, unlike you."
"Yes, well," Bradley said, eyeing a particular report on his desk. "I do have an unfair advantage on that front." He handed over the document he'd been keeping for a while to his supposed superior.
"Hm?" Messer hummed and took the report, quickly reading it over. He then recoiled, his normally closed eyes shooting wide open. "… What in the-?!"
"My thoughts exactly," Bradley spoke gravely. "I already filed in my suspicions about this to the Fleet Admiral, in person, while you were gallivanting around."
"One is still out there?" Messer asked while glaring at the report intently, for once as serious as the situation demanded. "I was certain we caught and executed all of them…"
"Well, with their leader down in Impel Down under tight watch, it was a safe bet to assume they'd lose cohesion, which they did," Bradley mused. "But this one managed to slip our attention, and it just had to be the absolute worst of the lot."
Das Messer let loose a deep sigh, sifting through old memories. "Just when Roger was dealt with, and we managed to track the Billiards down and take them out for good… did we ever find out what happened to "Breaker" English?"
"No. No, we did not," Bradley took more papers to look over and sign. "And, if my suspicions are correct, I am afraid that is exactly what that miscreant is betting on."
Das Messer looked at the report and attached bounty, roughly fifteen years old by now, but still clearly showcasing a heavily shadowed person with thick dark-gray shades with their namesakes painted on the lenses, and a toothy snarl. If what this report said was true, then an old phantom was truly coming back to haunt them from beyond the grave.
"… for all our sakes, friend," Das Messer said, placing the report aside, and continued working without a single complaint, "I sincerely hope you are wrong."
"As do I," King said back. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku intends to schedule a trip to Impel Down, to interrogate our shared 'acquaintance'. Though, what he intends to achieve is beyond me."
"Whatever the case, we must protect the order of this world," Messer stated resolutely. "It is what we swore, so long ago. To repent for our respective sins."
The two men spent quite some time in silence, just focusing on their paperwork. Still, the quiet was far from comforting or peaceful.
"… I intend to recommend you to be promoted for Rear Admiral," Messer said out of the blue.
Bradley gave him a look, waiting for him to elaborate.
"I can sense it, in these old bones," the old man spoke. "Something big is coming in the future. And I'm not just meaning the resurfacing of one of the Billiards and what comes of that. And when the time comes, the Marines need more capable hands, and minds, to bear the weight that will settle on the world."
"And you?" Bradley asks as he has before.
"Hohohoho! I'm quite comfortable as Commodore," Messer laughs. "I'm like Garp in that regard. I just abhor the idea of even more work!"
Bradley sighed. He didn't know what else he'd expected from his old colleague. If the man didn't despise paperwork like the plague, he could be Vice Admiral by now, at least.
Still, he knew to take the old man's hunches seriously. Das Messer's instincts were possibly even sharper than his own, no matter what he said to deny it.
-o~O-O~o-
[Meanwhile, Island of Pugilis, North Blue]
Pugilis was an island in North Blue of little repute. In fact, it was mostly abandoned, save for a single marine outpost mostly used as a checkpoint. Usually, it saw little if any action, as it had no real resources of its own.
But this day, the very air around the mostly barren island of Pugilis shook, as two forces collided at its center.
"ROOOOOOOAAAGH!" A large man, rippling with incredible muscles, wearing a simple brown leather tunic, let out a roar as he drew back his massive fist to strike, only for it to be met with equal force that sent shockwaves spreading around a truly massive area.
"GOROGOROGOROGORO!" The second person, a well-built individual who, despite it being hard to tell with their heavy black clothing, was a woman with gray hair styled in a pompadour, sending punch after punch to meet any that the hulking man sent her way.
The speed of their exchange was incredible, as observed by a couple of Marine soldiers.
"How the hell have they been able to keep that up without pause for a full 8 hours?!" One Petty Officer Patrick asked in horrified awe, having to grab his hat to not have it fly off due to the continuous shockwaves of the slug-fest quite a distance away.
"That question is way above our pay-grade," the second, calmer Marine, Ensign O'Malley said, observing the fight with binoculars. In a bag strapped over his chest, he had a Transponder Snail with a direct connection to Marineford. "We already sent our report, so now all we can do is observe and inform the higher-ups if the situation changes."
After a seemingly endless stalemate, something new finally occurred, as the two individuals, instead of meeting each other's punches, ended up cross-countering each other, the respective hit to the face sending the two sliding back several feet in opposite directions.
The large, brawny man huffed in fatigue and the strain his muscles were experiencing. This had, by far, been the toughest fight he'd ever had. And his history was a marathon of hard-won battles. His brown hair was drenched with sweat, and his scraggly beard wasn't doing much better. Never in his life had he imagined facing someone who could match not only his immense strength but his endurance as well.
"Is… Is that… ALL YOU HAVE TO SHOW ME?!" The man bellowed, ready to rush into action once more. His blood was burning, his heart beat stronger than it ever had before. A wide, borderline manic smile crept its way to his face, as he smiled for the sake of the most blood-pumping battle he was partaking in.
[Herakles]
(The Great Hero of Greece)
The woman with the gray pompadour stood straight, seemingly not even winded from the several hour-long battle or the powerful hit to the face, as they stood straighter. Their most striking features were the strange metallic objects seemingly growing out of their back, resembling wings at a glance, but on closer inspection being more like exhaust pipes. Her disproportionately large hands were also seemingly made entirely of metal.
But their most defining features she possessed, were the fact that her furious snarl revealed teeth made of metal, and that she wore white shades with the number 8 painted in a white dot on the surface of the dark unreflective lenses.
"Will you just…" the cyborg woman growled. "DIE ALREADY!" As if in response to her outburst, the exhaust pipes on her back started spewing intense blasts of fire and smoke, as her entire body produced sounds akin to a revving engine. "I AM SO DONE WITH YOUR SHIT, YOU MUSCLE-HEADED FUCKEEEEER!"
The revving intensifies as the orange and red flames turned green in coloration, and the woman arms started sparking with glowing green energy.
"HUAHAHAHAA!" Herakles laughed in absolute glee, preparing to catch the next imminent attack. "YES! GIVE ME YOUR ALL, ADVERSARY!"
"ATOMIC ENGINE!" The woman rushed the Greek Hero with velocity he almost couldn't catch, leaving an explosion of earth behind her, right fist drawn back for a full-powered punch, a furious snarl painted on her face, obvious even behind the large shades. "BIG BANG BUSTER!"
Herakles met the punch with one of his own, only this one was completely unlike any of the prior ones. He realized this far too late. The moment the woman's metal fist impacted Herakles' meaty one, everything exploded. The green light that preceded it was blinding, the blast-wave from it unstoppable, and the sound from it deafening. As the truly gigantic explosion engulfed over three-quarters of the small island's entire landmass.
Out of the dust raised by the detonation, a comparatively small, burned and smoldering form of Herakles was sent flying at a truly astonishing velocity into the distance, quickly disappearing into the far, far horizon with a twinkle.
As the explosion ended, and the towering mushroom cloud caused by it started to settle, two incredibly shocked Marines who had been just barely out of the blast-range scampered to their feet to take stock of the situation. What they saw was a massive crater at the heart of the Island. And at the bottom, still alive, still seemingly unharmed, the form of the cyborg woman with the pompadour. Her back exhaust pipes were still glowing from heat and smoking.
"Haah…haaah…" the woman panted heavily, shoulders heaving with every breath. And then she revealed it to be not out of exertion alone, but also rage. "YOU FUCKER! I JUST WANTED SOME DIRECTIONS, AND YOU GO AND BE OFFENDED WHEN I SAY YOUR GIRLY DRESS LOOKS DUMB?! I HOPE YOU SURVIVED THAT BECAUSE I'LL KILL YOUR BITCH ASS 888 TIMES OVER NEXT TIME I SEE YOU! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAGH!"
The two Marines had gone white as sheets as if having just borne witness to a bogeyman in the flesh.
The female cyborg finally calmed down and cracked her stiff neck, metal teeth revealed in a disgruntled snarl. "Fucking hell, what an annoying prick! I need to find that bunch of bastards right quick…" Then she punched her mechanical arms into the air and screamed from the bottom of her soul.
"I'M COMING FOR YOU! SO WAIT FOR ME A WHILE LONGER! BOSS!"
"Relentless Harbinger"
Eight-Ball (46)
The Last Active Member of the Billiards
Bounty: 888,000,000 Beri (15 Years Out of Date)
-o~O-O~o-
[Island of Duello, South Blue]
The Island of Duello was a unique place where all sorts of matters were solved with a duel, famed for being a dueling ground for those who needed space and quiet to solve their issues via combat. Another pair of individuals were amid a stare off on this Island of Duels.
"You are certain you desire this?" Asked Dracule "Hawk Eyes" Mihawk, arms crossed, his namesakes measuring the man before him.
He was a man dressed similarly to a samurai. Black hakama pants and redwood sandals, with a bared chest with only his arms covered with tight black long sleeves connected across his chest and back with thin red rope, with red segmented armor over each arm. His black hair was tied back into a wild topknot, matching the almost wolf-like look his narrow eyes and ferocious grin gave. Two scars went across his eyes, crossing at the dead center of his forehead, making the scars almost look deliberately made.
On the man's back, hanging sideways for convenience, was a sheathed blade of truly incredible length. Mihawk's knowing eyes identified it as a Nodachi-style blade, except much straighter than the norm.
"Of course!" The brazen swordsman replied easily. "I am the One At The Top, after all. I hear you are of the same reputation, so I need to know where I stand in this brave new world."
"… So be it then."
Without another word, Mihawk slowly drew his large sword, the legendary Black Blade. Mirroring him, the swordsman pulled the sheath of his blade free, and practically launched the long sheath high, spinning in the air, only to land behind him, sinking into the firm earth with a crash. Mihawk's eyes narrowed. That sheath had to be extraordinarily heavy.
The man's blade was indeed a sight to behold. Almost two times either man's body length, straight as an arrow, and with an edge that almost gleamed like diamonds when light met it. Its blade was broader than a usual for swords of its type, about as broad as a man's wrist. Even from a glance, Mihawk could tell that the sword was at least equal to Saijo O Wazamono Grade, same as his own.
"My name is Dracule Mihawk, Greatest Swordsman in the World," Mihawk spoke, clearly and concisely, entering into a stance, holding his blade out vertically. "You face my blade, Yoru."
The man gave a confident grin, entering a stance of his own, raising the blade above himself, horizontally. "Then you face me, Sasaki Kojiro, the One At The Top, and my blade Monohoshizao!"
[Sasaki Kojiro, 40]
(Legendary Swordsman, The Sword Saint)
And without any further need for words, Mihawk was the first to take the offensive, intending to truly gauge the capabilities of his foe as he swung down at him with a powerful slash. Near simultaneously, Kojiro went for a strike of his own. And immediately Mihawk knew the true worth of his adversary.
Their blades stopped one another, letting loose a blast of air around the two and a lone sharp sound of clashing steel that echoed in the silence that followed.
"Very impressive," Mihawk speaks, earnest and truthful in his statement, as two cuts appear on the opposite sides of his middle. "Despite your cumbersome weapon, your speed and skill with it are truly remarkable. You struck me two times while near-simultaneously blocking my blade with your last strike."
"Heh, you are quite something as well. Not just anyone can identify my Tsubame Gaeshi technique," Kojiro responds with a more open impressed and excited grin. "I was dead certain I'd blocked your attack completely. But seems like you're a lot stronger than I thought." A shallow cut opened between his left collarbone and shoulder. "Your slash flew straight off your blade. I must atone for underestimating you. Truly, you too stand At The Top!"
The two swordsmen jumped apart and retook their stances.
"Tell me, why do you desire this battle so?" Mihawk asked in the lull.
"Nothing special, really," Kojiro answers straightforwardly. "I simply must assess my place in this world. I desire to see if I still stand At The Top, or if I still have something to learn after all my years." He then smiled enigmatically. "Not to mention, when my Challenger arrives, I must be At The Top, so I can face them as they desire to face me."
"And you are so certain this Challenger of yours will come, how?" Mihawk questioned.
"Surasshushushu!" The Sword Saint laughs, wearing a wide grin. "Blind ass faith!"
Mihawk's lips quirked just a smidgen upwards, before the two master swordsmen dashed at one another, done with warming up and ready to clash blades for real.
-o~O-O~o-
[-Water 7, Galley-La Company Headquarters-]
The entirety of Water 7 was in the midst of a city-wide earthquake. Which was extremely notable for it being an absolute geological impossibility. So it was safe to say the entirety of the city was in a state of befuddled panic. But only one place continued business as usual. No one could say that the men of Galley-La were nothing short of professional, even in the face of absurdity.
It helped that most of them had an idea as to the source of the whole city rumbling.
Within the Galley-La HQ, through its many corridors, a woman rushed across the halls in heels, navigating them with intimate familiarity. She had ocean blue eyes, her raven black hair was tied to a professional bun(that was starting to come loose from the relentless shaking) and she wore a green coat over a brown dress shirt with a green neck ribbon and a long black skirt.
The woman knew exactly the cause and origin of the earthquake. Hence why she was running at full speed towards an area in the Galley-La building designated as the Research Wing.
"Augh!"
"AH!"
However, in her rush, at the cross-section leading to her location, her head collided with a surprisingly firm chest of a man, the impact sending both parties tumbling backward. The woman on her rear, and the man managing to balance himself to not fall over.
"Hey! Watch where you're- O-oh! Sorry, Ms. Gloria, Ma'am!"
"I-it's alright, Paulie," the woman said, rubbing her aching forehead and reaching for her round-rimmed spectacles that had fallen off in the collision. Thankfully, they were undamaged.
"Seems like we had the same idea," Paulie remarked, helping the woman up, like a gentleman.
"Yes, seems so," the woman aid, readjusting her glasses back into place.
It was just then that from beyond a door not too far off, over the sound of the foundations of the city rumbling, a sound of something being smashed rang out. The tremors ceased almost instantaneously, and the woman let out a sigh of relief.
Then she stepped to the door, with Paulie on her heels, and practically shoved the door open.
The area was quite large and spacious, filled with an absolute mess of scrap metal, wiring, and all sorts of half-complete mechanical gadgets and other things that defied any label one could imagine.
And in the middle of the room stood a young woman with long, messy black hair, dressed in a gray vest over a white dress shirt, gray pants with black suspenders and shiny black dress shoes. On her collar was a decorative brooch with a shiny red ruby embedded on it.
More notably, she was holding a large sledgehammer currently deeply embedded into a chest-sized, box-shaped contraption, that was most definitely now broken.
The contraption was visibly smoking.
"Nikola!" the woman exclaimed with a stern frown, arms crossed in matronly disapproval.
"It's okay, " The younger woman stated in an impeccable monotone, looking at the older woman with a blank stare. "I broke it."
"Well, thank you, dear, but that is not even remotely the point," the woman sighed. Though youthful for her age, it was times like these that made her actually feel her age.
[Gloria D. Freeway, 46]
(Personal Secretary of Mayor Iceburg)
"Please, tell me what happened just now?" Gloria asked with matronly patience she had become a master of by now.
"I broke the machine I built. It makes things shake by utilizing oscillating resonant frequencies," Nikola said. "The effect was meant to be contained within the confines of my workshop."
"Nikola…" Gloria spoke with an exasperated sigh.
"Based on the tone of your voice, and the fact that you look more wrinkly and unkempt than usual, I'm going to make the logical leap that the effects of my High-Frequency Resonance Oscillator Box Version 2.0 were not contained within the confines of my workshop."
Gloria loved this social-disaster of a girl who couldn't emote to save her life, truly she did. But sometimes she was just such a handful. The secretary had her hands full even before she entered the picture.
"The whole of Water 7 was affected," Gloria informed the young woman. "I'm fairly certain we'll be getting reports from the outer docks!" Behind her, Paulie nodded in confirmation of the scale of the effect.
"Oh. That is more widespread than I anticipated." Nikola answers with her usual neutral nonchalance, only to be immediately distracted as a familiar white pigeon roosted on her shoulder, bringing out an ever-elusive smile out of the young woman. She starts scratching it underneath the beak and pet it affectionately. "Hi, Hattori."
The pigeon cooed in return.
"… Did you steal Hattori from Lucci again?" Paulie asks.
"No," the young woman says reflexively, then blinks at the man, as if just now realizing he was there. "Oh. Hi, Paulie. I didn't see you enter."
"Well, I did follow Ms. Gloria…" Paulie sweat drops.
"What? No, I mean you're just really lacking in presence and aren't that visually striking."
"GUH!" Paulie clutches his chest, falling to his knees at damage dealt by the casual harsh words.
"Nikola, that's not a nice thing to say!" Gloria chastises the young woman, who only blinked at her impassively.
"It isn't? But it's true."
"Just because something is true, does not mean it should be said out loud," says a man walking through the open door. "I've told you this before, so I doubt it will sink in this time, either."
"I guess," Nikola drones, moving Hattori from her shoulder to her hands and continuing to pet the content bird. "Paulie just has such a boring look."
The man in question falls prone on the ground as the words savagely pierced his heart.
Gloria shakes her head at Paulie's dramatics and turns to the new arrival. More specifically, her boss. "Good day, Mr. Iceburg."
"Is there really a need for honorifics, Gloria?" Iceburg asks, eyeing Nikola's latest invention.
"Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting right now, sir?" Gloria reversed the question with a resigned glare.
"It's not that big of a deal." Iceburg waved the concerns off. "I'll forward the necessary documents to your aide."
The beleaguered secretary sighed at her boss' eccentric peculiarities. Granted, she knew most of it was an act he put up, but it still felt like she was babysitting half of the time. "I'm… fairly certain Kalifa doesn't appreciate the increase to her already substantial workload."
"It's fine~," Iceburg insisted nonchalantly. "It'll be important work experience." Implying her aide didn't have plenty of that ever since Iceburg hired her as an assistant's assistant five years ago. "Now, what exactly made you build this, young lady?"
Attention turned to her, Nikola looked Iceburg in the eye, which meant mostly just staring up due to the height difference. "I wanted to see if I could make it work this time."
"You built something like this before?" Iceburg questions.
"Yes. Though the last time it almost caused my lab, and the building it was in, to collapse," she explained.
A beat of silence.
"… And how did you modify this new version?"
"I installed an off-switch," Nikola explained.
Another beat of silence.
"… Very well. Then why is there a sledgehammer in your machine?" Iceburg asked, with almost inhuman patience.
"…" Nikola looked to the side, at the wrecked machine that sparked slightly. Then slowly back up at Iceburg's patient face. "I calculated the resonance frequencies of the surrounding area, as part of the experiment, but neglected to take into account the internal integrity of the device and its individual components." There was a slight pause as Nikola blinked. "The off-switch broke when I turned it on."
Iceburg let out a sigh. "At least no one was injured. But maybe inform someone the next time you try out something like this. Okay?"
"Okay," Nikola parroted while petting the pigeon in her hands.
"Good girl," Iceburg said, ruffling the young woman's messy hair affectionately. She didn't protest, just kept staring blankly. It also gave Iceburg a good look at the dark bags under her eyes. "… Nikola?"
"Yes?"
"How long did it take to build this machine?"
"71 hours, 32 minutes, and 11 seconds," Nikola answers almost robotically.
"And when was the last time you had some sleep?"
"72 hours, 9 minutes, and 5 seconds ago."
Everyone present sweatdropped.
"Nikola, what have I told you about sleeping?" Gloria asked in an exasperated manner, walking to stand beside Iceburg.
"That it's important," the young woman said. "But science is also important. I couldn't decide which was more important, so I just built the machine as long as I could."
"Falling unconscious is not the same as falling asleep, Nikola," Iceburg explained with a shake of his head.
"Why? It serves the same purpose: to tell the body to go inactive and recuperate from physical fatigue."
The most frustrating thing about dealing with a super genius like Nikola was that they could rationalize just about anything. Even if that brilliant rationalization came at the cost of common sense.
"… And Hattori?" Iceburg asked, deciding to sidestep the issue, for now.
"Hattori is a precious and irreplaceable lab assistant," Nikola started without missing a beat, with a serious expression while hugging the pigeon gently to her chest.
"And did you ask Lucci about borrowing him?" Gloria asked next.
"… Yes."
"Nikola." Iceburg crossed his arms and frowned in fatherly disapproval.
"No, I didn't," the young woman immediately admitted, lowering her head to look at the bird in her arms.
"Return him to Lucci, then apologize for taking Hattori from him," Iceburg ordered. "Then, get some sleep."
"M'kay." Nikola nods weakly.
Paulie, finally recovered from the verbal wounds to his heart, coughs loudly to get some attention. "Well, if that's all dealt with, I was actually comin' over for a reason when all this started." Blushing slightly, he reached into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a black case, about the size of a book, which he held out to Nikola. "I was, uh, buyin' you a gift."
Nikola blinked, blank-faced. Without saying a word she accepted the case. "A gift? Why?"
"Oh, er, you know," Paulie fumbled, growing redder in the face as he started nervously scratching the back of his neck, eyes trailing everywhere but the young woman. "It's been a while since you, well, came to live around here. A-and I realized I missed your last birthday, so… you know…"
Gloria and Iceburg gave Paulie a flat look, while Nikola opened the case and pulled out what was inside without so much as glancing in the direction of the flustered man. In her hands, she held a beautiful, masterfully crafted pearl necklace.
"Ah, okay. Thank you for the gift," Nikola said, just like Iceburg had told her one should when receiving a present. Then she promptly walked off and dropped the necklace in the trash, as Paulie froze in stone from the shock. "I don't like pearls."
Paulie lifelessly crumbled onto the floor, and Gloria and Iceburg could just imagine his heart leaving his body, like some weird ghost. His… crush on the young genius was not exactly a well-kept secret. Save from Nikola herself, who could miss that someone was angry with her after being hit in the face with a plank.
"I'll clean up here and go find Lucci," Nikola continued, ever oblivious to the feelings of people around her. She went to reach for the sledgehammer to pull it out of her broken invention. When she gave a good tug, her machine made a sudden sound and sparked strongly. Eyes widening minutely, in the second she had to react, Nikola turned her body around.
Then the machine exploded, sending the young woman flying into a pile of scrap metal. Meanwhile, the sledgehammer went spinning high in the air, and right through the ceiling. (Later, Tilestone would loudly complain about getting knocked out in the middle of work, as well as for having a blasting headache.)
"NIKOLA!" Gloria and Iceburg screamed out, running to check up on the girl. Paulie joined a little after, the explosion breaking him out of his funk. The mayor and his secretary turned Nikola around. She seemed mostly fine, save for a small cut on her forehead and a dazed look in her eyes.
"Nikola, can you see how many fingers I'm holding up?" Gloria asked, holding up three fingers in an attempt to ascertain if the young woman was concussed.
"… Is Hattori okay?"
Iceburg sighed and shook his head with a fond smile. The pigeon was safe and sound in the young woman's arms, no feather out of place. "Yes, Hattori is fine."
"…Yay…" Then the girl's gray eyes closed. The soft, downright adorable snoring was all it took to realize that the three days of not sleeping had finally caught up with her.
Iceburg gently scooped up the sleeping girl into a bridal carry, Hattori flying onto his shoulder once Nikola's hands had relaxed. "I'll get her checked up and take her to her room to rest, then go deliver Hattori back to Lucci."
Gloria smiled warmly at the whole scene. "Take your time."
"Hmm. I thought I was supposed to be at a meeting?" Iceburg asked, parroting his secretary's words back at her in good humor.
"I'm sure Kalifa and I can handle it," the secretary answered, playing along. "You just take care of her, Iceburg. If you'd join me, Paulie. I could use some muscle to carry things."
"Oh, uh, sure thing, Miss Gloria, ma'am!" Paulie gave a slightly frazzled salute, still a bit off-set by his crush almost being blown up by her own work.
Iceburg set off, leaving the two to their business. Idly, he kept sneaking glances at the young woman who'd shown up in Water 7 three years ago. He sometimes thought of the eerie similarities with the girl's situation, and Gloria's similar sudden appearance seven years prior, and the implications therein. He was still glad that Gloria had decided to confide her strange story to him, something he would never tell another soul without her express permission. In a way, it had made the decision on what to do with the young genius all the easier.
"…mmhm…science…" The young woman mumbled cutely in her sleep, bringing a fond smile to Iceburg's face. Utter lack of social graces aside, what good girl he'd taken in.
[Nikola Tesla, 19]
(Prodigious Genius Inventor)
And
(Adopted Daughter of Mayor Iceburg)
-o~O-O~o-
"Are you SURE, and I mean 1 billion percent certain that you got this memorized?"
"Yeah, yeah, jeez," Usopp sighed. "Seriously, it was just a small mistake…"
"There are no 'small mistakes' when you play with explosives," Abel said with utmost seriousness. "Still, this new system should help dramatically against misfires. It's not as convenient, but I can deal if it means I won't die via an accident."
"And what the hell are you doing up?"
Usopp and Abel looked up from their scheming at a very irate looking Nami, arms crossed and one finger tapping her arm, waiting- no, demanding an answer.
"Relax. I'm just sitting up," Abel said, indeed not lying flat on his chest on his makeshift bed, like he should.
"But you could-"
"Nami, I'm not an idiot," Abel cut her off with a serious demeanor. "The thing keeping me down was mostly just the pain. It's lessened a lot by now, so I can move as long as I don't do anything too strenuous, like try sick acrobatics or some crap."
Oh, the deep gashes on his back still stung like a bitch, and the burns limited his movement, but it was a massive improvement from being forced borderline immobile. Still not a smart idea to move about, but Cain Abel was not a kind of man to stay still when he could do literally anything else.
Nami still didn't look pleased, but at least she didn't look like she was about to knock some sense into the man either. In fact, she looked a bit… fatigued. "…Fine. Just… be careful. Okay?"
"Sure thing, my dearest Namikins," Abel said in the teasing manner he often did, in an absolutely saccharine voice to boot. He paused to wait for a reaction, only for Nami to walk past him, hop over Indora's tail(earning a curious look from the reptile) and head for the bow, eyes locked on the Eternal Pose. Abel frowned heavily. "…She seem… off to you?"
"Uhh, I mean, kind of," Usopp shrugged. "I'm not exactly as close to her as you are."
"Oh, great. Everyone's noticed," Abel deadpanned idly, eyes not leaving Nami's back.
He had a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. Something was not right…
-o~O-O~o-
Welp. That is a whole load of people, mucking up with Canon, or will do so in the future. Also notable is that not every Outsider was brought over at the same time.
The Monkey King, Sun Wukong himself is traversing the Grand Line as a pirate. Wonderful, just what the world needs. ANOTHER monkey on the seas, bringing chaos with them. Like the existing line of Ds wasn't enough. Now, why would Sun Wukong want to traverse the Grand Line? … Why WOULDN'T Sun Wukong, impulsiveness incarnate, want to sail the most dangerous and bat-shit crazy sea in the world?!
His crew, the Stone Monkey Pirates, so far consist of:
Sandy(22) - Shipwright and First-Mate. A tough as nails Orca Fishman. She keeps Wukong in line with the wrath of her iron hammer. The only one to have a bounty besides the captain at this point, for single-handedly sinking several Marine ships.
Trippy(23) - Gunner. A by-the-books sane human man, despite his gangly, skeletal physique. Is the most stressed by his captain's lack of… well, pretty much anything approaching common sense. Is chronically nervous.
Porco(30) - Ship Cook. A Boar Mink who loves cooking and booze. Likes having fun. Is the most accepting of Wukong's nonsense, due to how amusing it often is.
William Adams(42) - Navigator and Swordsman. A fellow Outsider, he's a mostly serious man accompanied by a mystical Guardian Spirit, Saoirse. Only William, and Wukong, can see her manifested form.
Being Sir Crocodile in this universe is suffering. Only, and ONLY because he has to deal with Mister Bloody Sunday regularly, who some of you intrepid readers may already have identified. (It's not a good secret.)
Diamonds Droog continues being a composed and cool SOB. Once again serving a domination inclined psychopath monarch with way too much power, and making the best of it. And making friends along the way! This DD is an amalgamation of all of the DD's across all their respective timelines(all of whom are mostly just the same), so their entire form of being is very… bizarre. Their special ability is to spy on the "Storylines" of other Outsiders.
The Marines get their own Outsiders, in the form of a former Nazi and a Homunculus. Das Messer and King Bradley have both been in the One Piece world for quite a while. Messer for 25 years, and Bradley for 21.
And yup, that is THE Herakles, getting his ass wrecked(don't worry, The Hero doesn't die that easy). The Marines are correct to fear the resurfacing of just a single member of the enigmatic Billiards. Eight-Ball has eaten the Paramecia type Engine-Engine Fruit, making them an Engine Human/Cyborg. What troubles could the remnants of this shadowy organization bring?
Meanwhile, The Island of Duels is the grounds for a grand clash indeed. The Greatest Swordsman in the World Vs. The One At The Top. I wonder who will win their little bout? (We don't take bets here.) And who is this "Challenger" Sasaki mentions?
Galley-La is about as awesome as usual. Now more so with a genius inventor in their midst, causing wanton chaos with their mad science and love of pigeons. And it seems Kalifa was too late to snag a position as Iceburg's secretary since some lady took it two years prior. Sorry, Kalifa, you need to settle for Secretary's Aide.
Meanwhile, Abel continues acting like a child who refuses to stay still, despite every instruction and sign that he really, really should. (Medical PSA: A serious back injury mean lying in bed for a lot longer than a day or two. Do not imitate this reckless man!)
Next Chapter: Ill-timed Disaster! The Island of Snow and Healing!
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…
…
…
Unseen, beneath the sands of Alabasta, in the darkness of the Tomb of the Kings, a figure veiled in xanthous robes observed a cube of indestructible stone and the characters carved on its surface. Though, to call what The Being did reading would be wholly inaccurate. They did not read, They simply observed all of the totality the cube conferred to Their will. Mortals read the lost encoded language and the history they hid. They absorbed the very meaning of the cube's existence.
The carved ivory of Their unchanging face betrayed nothing of Their intent. The minuscule white lights in the dark of Their eye holes traced nothing but eternity itself. And while not witnessing much that caught Their immediate notice, these cubes spread around this world were of Their interest.
And so, in the darkness, a throneless sovereign observed the annals of existence.
Silent, for Their will was beyond the need of words.
Patient, for to Them time was a mere trifle.
Indifferent, for this world was utterly inconsequential to Their will.
And waiting. Waiting till the day what They could gain from this cube ran dry. It would not be long now. And then They would seek the next. To repeat the process, again, again, again, again, again…
As long as They had to. To discover the knowledge They sought. To reclaim the totality of Their being, instead of being reduced to a mere shard of Their existence and will.
So it was, that the greatest adversary to the Order of the World simply stood still.
And created not a small ripple, but an abyssal sinkhole…
[The Unspeakable Yellow King]