Iceburg, the mayor of Water 7 has been plagued his whole life by the World Government's schemes. Over the years of hard work, he has built an empire of shipbuilding success, but the shadows of the past (and ever so present) still wait at his door. Luckily, an intelligent and experienced man, Iceburg isn't about to let any sinister plot overtake him so easily.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, it belongs to Eiichiro Oda. However, the story belongs to me.
Author's note: We go back in the narrative and start to see things from Iceburg's perspective.
It would have been very easy to assume that Iceburg was doomed as a helpless pawn in the World Government's brutal game, but that absolutely was not the case.
From the very start Iceburg had been deeply entrenched in his own, detailed plans.
For example, the day that Kalifa had found the pile of men's health magazines within his desk had been the day he had put them there.
Waiting until the moment he had predicted Kalifa would enter the wide expanse of his office with fresh coffee, he deployed a well orchestrated sweep of his hand, dropping the publication into the drawer and quickly closing it as if he did not want to be caught.
He knew he had definitely piqued her curiosity when he saw her raise her chin slightly in his direction, a reflection of light flashing across her glasses.
She didn't say anything or otherwise react, and Iceburg tried to look as unassuming as he could as she approached.
He thanked her shortly for the coffee, lifting the cup from the small tray she had set down and sat back in his chair which creaked slightly. The sound seemed voluminous in the muffled quiet of his panelled office.
He marvelled at his own ability to keep a completely straight face when the adrenaline of dangerous excitement was pumping through his veins. He enjoyed these quiet games of willpower. Iceburg often found that keeping people that wanted something from him slightly off balance helped reveal their true intentions more quickly.
A few seconds ticked by with slow cadence.
Despite it being obvious she still had something to say he offered no further discourse, content instead to pretend to daydream while looking out of the window.
Eventually (when she could hold it in no longer) she pushed her glasses up her nose, then opened her clipboard with a decisive snap.
"You have a meeting at 14:00 with Ronaldo-sama-"
"Cancel it."
She blinked, not expecting his instant answer.
"... sir?"
"I don't want to."
Despite his usual serious gravitas, his closest workers would often witness small outbursts of childish whim when Iceburg became too bored of his corporate duties. This was something Iceburg had noticed Kalifa particularly struggled to contend with, although she hid it very well.
"But the mayor of San Faldo was very specific-"
"Tell him I'll come to his office in a couple of weeks instead."
Kalifa stood still, at a loss and clearly exasperated. At this point, she knew nothing could be done to sway his decision.
In normal circumstances he would have been more considerate at the amount of work cancelling the visit of a city mayor at short notice was going to be for her, but today it was merely a part of a bigger picture. There were several facets to the chain of events he was intending to trigger.
As for the mayor of San Faldo, Iceburg remained unconcerned.
The fat, frivolous leader of their carnival sister city could deal with it. They had known (and respectfully disliked each other) for years.
Quite honestly, the man had done it back to Iceburg multiple times already. Ronaldo often dropped their upcoming meetings after consuming a five-course lunch and bottle of brandy, deciding he'd rather nap than make small talk with his neighbouring counterpart in the afternoon.
As long as the deal between San Faldo and Water 7 for iron imports was still signed and sealed, neither of them cared too much about occasionally wasting each other's time. In fact, it was kind of a pastime for them both now to never quite meet in person. They had den den mushi phones after all.
This was a nuance that Kalifa didn't seem to have picked up on yet. And why should she? She was a 20-something young woman. Not an almost-40 year old business-man with tenure in his trade to exercise.
He looked up at her from under his brow, finally fixing his midnight eyes on Kalifa with an intense and appraising look, the coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth.
"Was there something else?"
Now she had his full attention like she had previously hoped for, she suddenly seemed uncomfortable to be under his direct scrutiny.
She bowed deeply with submissive reverence, a lock of hair slipping past her nose as she backed down.
"That's all, Iceburg-san."
He watched her leave as silently as she had entered and click the door completely shut behind her.
He exhaled with relief, relishing the peace of his long-awaited isolation. He hoped no-one else would arrive to bother him today. As Kalifa well knew, the World Government had been sending slimy representatives at random intervals to his office from Enies Lobby to try and negotiate for something they thought he had for years, something he always denied having.
Despite this, they were persistent, because it was something they really wanted.
Iceburg was under no illusion that they would stop there. The annoying visits from increasingly peculiar characters in black fedoras were nothing more than the attempted threat of reminding him that he was still directly under their gaze.
No , the real threat was going to be something much deeper. It would have to be some sinister plot to surround him with darkness and smother him before he even knew what was happening.
After all, that was their way.
That was what they had done to Tom-san and his family all those years ago.
It was extremely likely, therefore, that the World Government had planted a mole within his direct organisation for this purpose.
Luckily, he hadn't gone through a lifetime of loss and secretive urgency to be easily duped.
Watching once again through his window up above, he had a view of the entire expanse of the Dock 1's shipyard.
His eyes followed the distant form of his secretary Kalifa,who had now made her way from his mansion and down to the yard. She stalked out into the open space and wove her way through the path of the shipwrights that he noted gave her a wide, respectful berth so as not to invoke her ire.
In the beginning he had hoped that she wasn't involved, but quite frankly her presence had been suspicious from the start.
In Iceburg's substantial experience, humans were fundamentally only able to be themselves. Ruled by experience and emotion, even the greatest actor could not hide from himself after a while. It was normal for a person's pathway through life to shape who they manifested as towards others. This included great triumphs, but in many more cases failures.
A true man accepted himself for what he was: intrinsically flawed. Sometimes, people were born into hardship, lived through hardship or were forced into it. Sometimes it was of their own making, sometimes by the hands of others.
Iceburg happened to know this much more intimately than many. The shadowy memories and trauma of his life as a child and young man often walked side by side with him like an old friend.
He had taken this pain and transformed his life and himself through hard work and gritted teeth (and consistent failures). When he had been at his lowest points he recalled the wide, toothy grin of Tom-san calling out at him, fist clenched. "Iceburg my boy! A real man isn't about what happens to him, it's how he responds to it! With a DON!"
He had tried to lead by example, feeling that he had a duty to carry on even just a small part of Tom's legacy, his kindness and his willingness to just… be at peace with his mistakes.
"Stupid idiot!" A 15 year old Iceburg had yelled more than once with his fists clenched, completely furious as Tom-san had rolled around the floor with tears of laughter leaking from his eyes. The large fishman would do this even after something very serious, like almost getting knocked out by a piece of errant scrap in the junkyard.
But now, Iceburg would have given anything to see the old fool guffaw at him again. Anything, to have him ruffle a tiny Franky's meticulously styled hair and wind them both up incessantly until Kokoro-san had whacked him upside the head with her wooden spoon.
He knew he would never be able to fully follow Tom's example, but he had always paid special attention to individuals he saw a little piece of his younger self in.
Take Paulie for example, who had started as a poor orphan in a poor home.
The unruly blonde was often loud, angry, with no restraint on emotion and had started with a distinct lack of general life skills. And yet, the boy had unparalleled talent in his craft and leadership skills in a pinch. People gravitated towards him as a protective and popular figure despite him being rough around the edges. They seemed to trust him as someone that just got it and Iceburg could see why. Paulie had the persistence and patience of someone that had learned to fight for every single scrap he earned.
Iceburg would never have children, he already knew his opportunities for that were well past. He instead had thrown himself into the instruction of promising candidates who he could see how he might be able to help (in some small way) to better themselves. The excellent calibre of shipwrights he had personally curated to work with him at Galley-la were testament to that.
As each day went by Iceburg had humbly tried to lead those employees and Paulie towards being their best and happiest selves, knowing with experience that some people needed more support than others to arrive at the same success. After all, had he been so different at the same age?
Without Tom-san, Kokoro, Franky and Yokozuna, he knew for definite he would have never even made it to adulthood, let alone progress in his craft as he had.
Iceburg felt lucky enough to have the benefit of experience to guide him now. He did not make judgements on anyone for having shortcomings, because everyone did.
With that in mind, he considered Kalifa and the one flaw she exhibited, that is to say, a lack of flaws altogether.
This had been something that had both intrigued and worried him. She appeared perfect in both physique and work ethic. She never took a day off and she seemed to have an uncanny ability to almost know what was required before it was asked for.
He found that being perfect in every aspect like Kalifa was, without question, an anomaly.
He peered past his curtain, keeping track of his secretary's movements for as long as he was able. He observed as she paused occasionally to check her clipboard and speak to a representative of various sections of the yard.
As time went on, he gripped his cup's handle more and more tightly as he made quick mental notes on every person she interacted with. He didn't get the sense that any of them had any immediate suspicious qualities.
Eventually Kalifa disappeared behind a particularly large frame and out of sight of Iceburg who could not see the far reaches of the shipyard beyond the buildings and piles of materials.
He slumped and sighed, extremely disappointed.
He had perhaps been fooling himself to think that he would get a lead on potential infiltrators so easily. But still, no matter. He had merely laid the foundation for a later time.
Even though he was rarely wrong about a person, there was still the chance that Kalifa was completely innocent in all this, and was just the rare example of an extremely disciplined and competent woman.
He would see... He had many more resources at his disposal that he had not yet deployed into play at this stage.
Shutting his eyes, he let the warmth of the sun engulf him.
Suddenly he felt very weary. A lifetime of always watching his own back could only take its toll.
With a strange chill of intrusive premonition that made the hairs on his arms stand on end, he envisioned his mansion (and himself) going up in flames, burning like a martyr on the ruins of the city he built from the inside out.