Lucci wakes up in his apartment after an uneasy night's sleep, reflecting on Water 7's tenuous political relationship with Enies Lobby and being raised knowing his purpose would be to eventually assassinate the man that had managed to cause such a stir in the Cipher Pol division as Lucci was growing in adulthood. Little does he know, events are about to occur that will drastically change his entire mission.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, it belongs to Eiichiro Oda. However, the story belongs to me.

As Lucci slowly woke on the morning of his first day off in a while, he groped around near his thigh for the covers that didn't seem to be on him. He hadn't slept well.

He had never been one to rest easily, his mind always buzzing with his duties and concerns. He usually tossed and turned, unable to relax. When he did manage to drift off, he was consistently plagued with nightmares of combined past bloody experiences, pain, and grotesque twists on his everyday thoughts. This often caused him to jerk awake, ready to fight some unseen attacker.

A lot of the times he experienced this, the narrative of his disturbed dreaming ended with the flash of light and searing pain on his back that lingered a ghostly presence long after he was fully conscious. Lately, faceless shipwrights turning away from him and hints of blue hair had entered this chaotic mix.

He sat up and blearily rubbed between his eyes, confused about his missing bed covers before spotting them in a pile on the floor. Sunlight streamed through a narrow window into his apartment. Even though he had stripped down to nothing but boxers, he had still managed to kick the bedding to the floor in his sleep without realising.

He felt exhausted but he wouldn't lay back down now. Not while the apartment was so full of light and warmth.

There wasn't much by way of personal possessions in his apartment: just the bare minimum of utility items and work materials including blueprints and his tool belt. He noted that it was slung over a chair where he had dumped it after coming in the previous day.

Hattori was absent from his perch in the corner, but Lucci wasn't particularly concerned about this. When he left the window open the adventurous pigeon liked to go out for morning flights. He would be back shortly, if for nothing else than to be fed.

Lucci swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked barefoot across the cool tiles, through a characteristically Water 7 open archway into a small kitchenette.

Lucci's apartment was small and very in keeping with the older style of the island's white and tan architecture but it was sufficiently quiet and nestled away with about a twenty minute walk from Dock One. Of course, that would have been more like five minutes with Rokushiki techniques but he certainly wouldn't risk being seen doing such moves. He wasn't Kaku.

The place was small and simple, but it suited him well enough. Like other similar places it was built into the foundations of a yagara canal and therefore there was a constant noise of rushing water from above. It was, however, acceptably away from the busier shopping streets. He was spared the chatter and shouts of the market late into the night that the apartments overlooking them had to endure. He had never been there, but he had a vague memory that Kaku lived in such a place. He suspected it probably suited him.

Kalifa on the other hand had instantly upgraded her apartment to a more luxury one in the upper city, of course and, as far as he knew, Blueno still stayed in the rooms above his bar.

As a foreman, his salary would have extended to some of the nicer, spacier and more elevated places in the city, like Kalifa had quickly claimed. But as the World Government had set him up in this place by default he had seen no mission related reason to move. He had no need for luxury. He didn't spend much time here anyway when he had his work day at Galley-la, evenings at Blueno's bar with the others and undercover investigations to contend with.

His true home base was back at Enies Lobby, he supposed. As he had been taken into the care of the World Government before he could remember, he didn't have any knowledge of where he had come from before that.

He didn't care for the Tower of Justice building or the bland island itself but he had spent a long time curating his personal weapon collection (which he hadn't seen in four years). It was one of the few interests that Lucci had openly indulged in when he was younger. It was kind of stupid for an agent whose body was his weapon to care about swords or axes, but he found their craftsmanship compelling. He did know how to use them of course, but they had spent the majority of their time hanging on the wall of the room that he had called his own for such a large chunk of his childhood.

That part of his life- of himself- now felt like a distant uncomfortable dream.

Automatically, he filled his small kettle and put it on the stove top. He knew he didn't have much left of the white tea he was accustomed to having in the mornings. It was a special export brand from one of the World Government colony islands, very common in Enies Lobby but not in open trade outside of the military. He would need to put in a requisition to Cipher Pol to have more sent.

Despite being part of a trade network with Enies Lobby by virtue of the sea-train, Water 7 had held strong on a clear policy of not signing a military agreement with the World Government. This meant that even though enjoying status as an affiliate (as all Sea Train zone islands did), the Marines didn't have a base or presence in the city. This is why it had historically been so difficult to gain any traction in the area, as the smaller islands of San Fardo, Pucci and St. Poplar rarely made any political moves that their nominated capital Water 7 did not lead on.

This had also made it exponentially harder to close in on Iceburg. After the events involving Tom of Tom's workers (and Cipher Pol 5, as Lucci now knew), distrust of the World Government having an involvement in the affairs of the city had grown.

When Iceburg had finally taken the illustrious position as mayor those years later, the first thing he had done was surround himself with powerful individuals and ethics, making a very public effort to question the purpose of any marine-related visit to the island he had worked so hard to elevate.

After a while he had even made it clear that pirates were welcome, as long as they didn't choose to cause trouble while docked at the island.

Lucci still remembered the stir Iceburg had caused on the judicial island. His rise to power from nothing, the love of his people, and his acceptance of those from all echelons of society. The long hair and tattoos... A chequered past with Cipher Pol. He had been the complete opposite of what the World Government considered an acceptable citizen.

He had been the target as an associate of Tom even before they had deemed him dangerous on his own personal level. And yet, Lucci had found himself drawn to this fantastical character. It had amused Lucci to no end to see his so-called 'mentors' so vexed.

Who could this one person be, that had caused so much upset in his superiors? Who was this unconventional rebel that had the power to scare the 'big men' that trained children into assassins?

When Lucci was near 19, he had almost choked on his tea when he had received his newspaper reporting on Iceburg's latest actions as new mayor, and seeing that he had chopped off his long blue hair and swapped his white tank top for a suit.

The white tea leaves. The tea he had drunk every morning throughout gruelling training. Tea leaves that helped him to prepare to kill that man.

And yet, Lucci had been more irrationally angry at Iceburg for cutting his hair short than he had been for any of the political moves that had scared his superiors.

That was about the time Lucci had begun to grow his own hair long.

The water on his stove in his small Water 7 apartment was only just showing signs of getting hotter when Lucci's den den mushi exploded into a frenzy of sound, jolting his zoan. It sent dangerous instinctual energy through his body. He was experienced enough to not let it start to transform him into a leopard against his will but he hated the way it still made his toes and fingers throb with the effort.

The patterned snail phone on his counter had awoken with a boggle-eyed start. As if surprising itself as well, it continued to let out a discordant screech of a call.

Abandoning the stove, he instinctively grabbed the unruly snail phone as it was hopping closer to the kitchen top edge in ring-related distress. With the creature now squirming in one hand, he pulled the receiver off its back in the other and raised it quickly to his ear. His heart was pumping with the shock. He steadied his breathing.

There was a short clicking, then a nondescript voice spoke through what sounded like a lot of electronic noise.

"Caller 1- 1 - 1 - 7 - 8 -6 - 3- Charlie- Papa- …"

The message continued; a familiar type of code that told Lucci he was about to be connected through a secure line to someone at the World Government. He was very used to this process.

It was most likely Spandam in the Cipher Pol secret division, their director. As the lead for the mission, Lucci was supposed to call in frequently to report their progress but he really didn't care to keep to a schedule with it.

Lucci hated Spandam, their pathetic chief. Having got the position by merit of being a descendant of the previous chief only, he was useless in almost every single way. He also happened to have a power complex and a terrible personality. Every day Lucci resented having to answer to that buffoon. He barely tolerated incompetence at its best, and there were many more reasons than that to dislike a man like Spandam. There were general reasons, as well as personal ones.

Lucci impatiently drummed his fingers against the table as he waited for the protocol to get out of the way, and hissed his own passcode back as soon as he got the chance. He had carried the den den mushi to his small sitting area (in the same room as the kitchenette) and lowered himself onto his modest couch.

He crossed one muscular thigh over another, painfully aware he was still undressed apart from underwear. It wasn't his favourite way to report to a superior.

Finally the code checking was over, and he heard the line being transferred.

He was already in a bad mood, and talking with Spandam could only make it worse. He didn't want to hear what that insufferable man had to say, and he didn't feel like explaining that they were no longer on track with their mission progress.

He felt even less inclined to disclose that he had managed to secure the mark in a room on his own but completely failed to find out any useful information. Not to mention he had been stood up for further contact so far. His subordinate Kaku was acting up under his direct command. He also hadn't yet had his tea.

As the person on the other end of the line appeared to be re-gripping the phone according to the noise of fabric rustling on the other end and taking a long time to clear his throat, Lucci decided to speak first. Using his real voice.

"Good evening director-" he started impatiently.

"Arara, no no. Not that. No."

The strange, full voice on the other end of the phone sounded awkward, as if he wasn't used to using a den den mushi. Lucci froze, not immediately recognising the person on the other end of the line.

This was an unprecedented situation.

In that moment, a thousand thoughts ran through Lucci's mind, all concerned, none coherent. He had frozen with the receiver in front of his mouth, droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. Who in the name of Justice could this be? How did they get hold of a Government secure line?

Eventually the shuffling stopped. It seemed the person had finally got the receiver into a position where he could speak comfortably into it. Before anything else was said, Lucci was jolted out of his instinctual reaction, surprised to hear a laboured yawn come from the unknown caller. The den den mushi's mouth wibbled comically in his hand as it imitated this sound.

"We've never met, I don't think." the person slurred lazily in a slow cadence. "I'm Kuzan. Mm, probably, ah, well… Aokiji. You probably know me as that."

Lucci's eyes widened.

Behind him, the water on the stove began to boil over, hissing and bubbling when it hit the direct heat.

Admiral Aokiji?