Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck and clung to her forehead in a slick sheen. Her hair stuck to the skin, the sensation clammy and dirty, always dirty. Nami bent her knees and stepped cautiously backwards, deeper into the gaping maw of the smoke that made her eyes burn and lungs scream for air.

Her men yelled and clashed with their attackers in the chaos, screaming as they died to metal pipes and bloodied fists. With each death the cries drew closer, every closer. Bodies hit the concrete in time with the thudding of Nami's heart in her chest. Her head couldn't have been clearer. She made her retreat slowly, carefully.

Hatchan and Camie were a comforting pair of shadows at her back. She'd worked with them the longest. They knew her moves before she knew them herself. The shriek of their blades leaving scaled scabbards set Nami into a calm trance, a familiar one. She could do this. She had done this.

She may have been holding the equivalent of 20 billion berries in her hands, but the stakes didn't matter. All that mattered was Nami and her objective. Nothing more, nothing less.

After all, she was nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard. Though she would have liked to consider herself a knight or even a rook… but Arlong kept her leash tight. Nami knew her place, and more importantly than that she knew what would happen to her if she lost the case.

The sawfish on her shoulder burned, a constant reminder.

Nami sucked in a deep, calming breath. The cloth over her nose thinned the smoke just enough. She stepped backwards at a methodical pace, the hollow thwap of her heels against the concrete cutting through the squelch and slaughter and leading her focus like the steady click of a metronome.

Camie stomped her left foot twice, a signal. The tunnel behind them was clear, they had a way out.

Nami nodded to herself, her fingers digging painfully into the tough metal of the briefcase worth 20 billion.

It happened a split second before Nami could turn tail and run.

A person materialized from the smoke to land before Nami with the slap of sandals on bloodied concrete.

An enemy.

Time slowed. Nami was fast, but he was faster.

Swallowed up by baggy clothing, face concealed by a black cloth identical to Nami's. His eyes were a determined pair of mahogany, draped by ratty bangs the color of soot, all set beneath the brim of a straw hat that was two sizes too big.

Those eyes pinned Nami on the spot with a determined fire. She screamed at her legs to move, but it was already too late.

The man in the straw hat locked in on the case.

Mahogany, chestnut, and umber, all lighting up with a dazzling hope.

"Shit," Nami hissed.

Straw Hat's eyes hardened. "Sorry," he said, his voice dead. He wasn't sorry. Strong arms jerked forward and ripped the case from Nami's fingers before she could even think to move. Just like that, everything shattered.

Panic flooded Nami's veins, this was not happening. She reached for the knives hooked around her thigh, but Straw Hat was faster. Always faster.

The encounter lasted naught but a half a second.

Straw Hat's foot connected with Nami's gut, and it was over before it began. Her entire body lit up with red hot pain as she flew backwards and hit the ground hard on the other side of the smoke screen. Nami's body skipped like a stone on water. Her skull cracked against the ground. The skin on her knees, hips, and elbows smeared across unforgiving concrete and painted the tunnel with the red of her blood.

Hatchan screamed her name, but all Nami could do was gag.

She only stopped when she crashed against the brick wall at the end of the tunnel, where the path forked. Two paths, two escape routes. Only one choice.

Nami bit back a cry of pain as she bounced from the wall onto an unforgiving ground. She immediately curled in on herself and hurled bile. She could still feel the imprint of that man's foot on her stomach.

From the other end of the tunnel, the dying screams of her men crescendoed. Camie's shrill voice rose above the rest, calling for Nami in the chaos. Desperate. Terrified.

Dammit.

Shit.

Nami ground her teeth and forced herself to her hands and knees, still hunched over like a fucking dog. Her vision spun, her entire body ached.

And through it all she saw his eyes, staring at her behind her lids. Clawing at the inside of her skull from beneath the brim of a straw hat. Nami clenched her hands into fists, her fingertips scraping painfully against the concrete and leaving trails of scarlet.

The case was lost, and if the screams were any indication… so were half of her men.

Straw Hat and whoever the hell he'd brought with him… they were too strong. They'd caught Nami off guard, she'd been too confident. Too delusional. The rook? Ridiculous. No. She was nothing more than a broken, useless pawn.

Her thoughts were like a million tiny ping-pong balls, bouncing off the walls of her mind in a racket that made her hands shake and blood boil.

The smoke screen would clear in a matter of moments and the military would flood the tunnel. If Nami didn't call for the retreat, every single one of them would be bound in chains and led directly to the guillotine. It didn't fucking matter if they were affiliated with the Fishmen, without Arlong tugging them along on golden leashes they were nothing.

Nami clenched her fists.

And drew a breath.

Nami screamed and thrashed as Arlong dragged her down a dimly lit hallway, his hand fisted in her hair. His footsteps were heavy as he stormed deeper into the recesses of a long corridor lit by scarlet stained lamplights, Nami's blood smearing across the floor and following him in a sticky trail.

"No! Please! You can't do this–" Nami yelled and kicked and squirmed, she pleaded and sobbed and screamed.

But Arlong was silent. His face dark and unreadable. The men posted along the walls winced and averted their gazes as Nami was hauled past, her dress ripped and hair disheveled, bloodied and beaten within an inch of her life. Some wounds were days old, but so many others were fresh.

"I can fix this!" Nami pleaded. She glanced frantically at the metal door at the end of the hall, bordered by ornate wallpaper that glistened with swirling patterns of gold foil. "I can make this up to you, I swear! I can get the Key back, just give me a chance! I was the one to steal it from Onigashima in the first place–"

"Silence," Arlong growled as he savagely kicked the metal door open.

Nami whimpered in terror and visibly recoiled as the door opened to reveal a cramped metal room, little more than a box. A cage. It was empty and dark within, lit only by a barred window that displayed a fleeting view of the Layer outside… the unforgiving expanse of the Holy Land.

"Please, Arlong," Nami tried once more. "Give me a chance!"

"I gave you a chance. Several of them," the man spat coldly, his grip on Nami's hair unyielding.

She clawed at his wrist with her nails, tears welling in her eyes as she struggled to distance herself from the metal room. "And how many times have I failed you?" she bit through clenched teeth. "How many jobs have I run for you? How many years have I–"

"Twenty-four years," Arlong drawled, sounding bored. He glanced down at Nami as if she was no more than dirt beneath his feet. Cold eyes of acidic purple met a desperate pair of tawny brown. "I've owned you since the day you were born. Or did you forget?"

"Arlong, please, I can–"

"Fix this?" the man interrupted. He laughed coldly. "I have no use for a lame dog. You of all people should know that I do not tolerate failure. Especially not a failure of such extreme proportions. You were useful while you lasted but it is more than clear that you've expired."

Nami's eyes blew wide in terror. "No. No, you can't–"

Arlong tossed Nami into the metal room as if she was nothing more than a ragdoll. His eyes were apathetic and cruel as he watched her scramble to right herself, hyperventilating as she frantically crawled towards the doorway on shaking hands.

She was met with a boot to the face.

Nami yelled as she was flung against the wall with the force of Arlong's blow. Blood splattered the metal walls of her cage. Her head rang like a bell and the entire room spun. She groaned and collapsed into a limp heap, disoriented as unforgiving waves of pain crashed over her head in quick succession.

Arlong scoffed as he watched her. "Useless."

Searing red flashed behind Nami's eyes. This bastard. She snapped her head in Arlong's direction, tearing him apart with eyes that oozed and festered with pure hatred.

"Isn't that a look?" the Celestial Dragon snorted. He chuckled to himself as he watched his own violent murder play behind Nami's eyes. "Don't be so cruel to me, girl. You know I cannot let failure go unpunished."

Nami's chest pumped, she panted through her rage and struggled to prevent herself from lurching at Arlong and tearing him apart. "I haven't failed a single mission. Not in my entire fucking life. I lead your shitty gang and run your entire black market operation. All of it. I slip up a singular time and this is how you treat me? Like some– some animal?! A misbehaved pet?!"

Arlong crossed his arms and smirked down his nose at the woman before him. "Out of all my slaves, you certainly think highly of yourself. Don't you remember how your mother disrespected me?" he asked, always so quick to toss the tale in Nami's face. "I paid good money for a whore, only to find her eight months pregnant? I killed her for her crime but she left me with you. You have her eyes, you know that?"

"You tell me this for the thousandth time, yet I still feel nothing," Nami snapped dryly. "Miraculous, that hearing about my deceased mother doesn't suddenly make me give a singular shit about her."

Arlong snarled and kicked Nami in the gut. "Bitch."

"Ow!" she laughed, boarding on delirium as the man kicked the wall of bruises left over from her failed mission. "The pain, I can't bear it," she said, her tone laced with enough sarcasm to kill.

Arlong curled his lip and reached for the metal door. "I was the one who trained you rather than selling you like your whore mother, so I suppose I am somewhat responsible for your failure." He scoffed, "As such I can't properly dispose of you, now can I? Even I can't bear to destroy an investment I so toiled over, in spite of how tarnished you've become."

Nami spat blood at his feet.

The man scoffed as the shot fell short.

"A true pity, and after you did so well for so long." Arlong sighed, though seeing any semblance of a human emotion on him was disconcerting. "It's unfortunate, but I can't tolerate failure, you see? I have an image to uphold."

"Go sit on a dick," Nami snarled.

Arlong huffed a laugh, "Always so quick to bite… I won't kill you, girl. Be grateful your quick tongue is so amusing. But I can't let a dog go unpunished, especially not one so misbehaved." He smirked. "Sit in here and mull over your failure. I'll decide if you're deserving of keeping your post after this embarrassment."

With that, he slammed the door in Nami's face and left her sitting in darkness.

Nami stared against nothingness, kept company only by her own pain and the panting of her breath in the silence. Blood trickled from her nose, her entire head ached. Frustration and anger flooded through her in a maelstrom of violent emotion. Her entire body shook with the burning need to kill, but she couldn't do one single thing.

She was trapped in this metal box, and only Arlong had the power to let her out.

Nami drew a breath and screamed, slamming her fists against the back of the door again and again, pretending that it was Arlong's sorry skull she was bashing rather than cold metal. "YOU FUCKER! BASTARD! NO GOOD FUCKING DICK! LET ME OUT OF THIS GODS DAMNED CAGE, YOU SORRY FUCK!"

She screamed and beat her fists against the door. Her rage seeped through the metal like a deadly aura, her shouts and curses echoing through the hall and making the guards along the walls wince and squirm.

Nami yelled and raged until her fists were bloody and bruised, until her throat was torn and hoarse and she didn't have the energy to stand on her knees, let alone breathe.

She crumpled to the floor, panting as anxious tremors rocked her hunched form. Nami sat in a growing puddle of her own blood and grappled with the terrifying realization that it was over. All of it. She'd been born Arlong's slave, and even though she'd clawed her way to his right hand her luck had finally run out.

For Arlong didn't accept failure. Any breach of duty resulted in immediate and bloody execution. The Fishmen weren't weak, and Arlong made certain of that fact. Hell, Nami should know. She'd fucking led them for more than a decade.

But now that was over, and she could only sit and watch as her entire life slipped through her fingers like the sand in an hourglass.

Her throne at the top of the Fishmen's ranks? Gone.

Without that status she was nothing but trash in Arlong's eyes, and after this fiasco she had been reduced to the sniveling brat he'd orphaned twenty-four years prior. Decades of blood sweat and tears, all down the drain.

Nami had never been anything more than a slave, Arlong's favorite slave but still nothing more than that. But at least she'd been able to tell herself that she had respect. Status. Power.

Except now… all of that was gone.

She'd failed her mission, Arlong's red headed devil had slipped up, and now the crown had been ripped from her head.

And it was all thanks to that Dirtie fuckwad in the straw hat.

Nami saw nothing but rage. She seethed in it, it broiled in the air around her and painted the black red.

"It's you, it's all your fault," she snarled, gripping her head and tugging at her hair, left only with herself to hurt in the absence of the man who had torn her life apart. "Straw Hat," she breathed, eyes beady, bloodshot, and wide. She rocked back and forth with her knees drawn to her chest, blood oozing from dozens of wounds as she dug her nails into her scalp until it stung.

She could see him even now, staring at her from the blackness in front of her. Grinning at her from beneath the brim of that damn hat; a stinking, rotting, Dirtie, straight from the Dregs below Nami's feet.

This was all his doing.

His fault.

His fault.

His fault.

"I'll kill you," Nami whispered. "I'll kill you I'll kill you I'll kill you."

"What about this one?" Luffy asked in a dramatic tone. He strutted from the makeshift changing booth, swallowed up in a pink feathered coat. Luffy posed with his lips puckered before Law, who was sitting on the floor against a heap of colorful fabrics. Law frowned, his eyebrows falling into a hard frown as he took in the coat.

"Well?" Luffy pressed, "Do you like it?"

Law took one look at the pink feathers and gagged. "Take that awful thing off, it's unsettling."

"Aw, why?" Luffy whined, though he immediately shrugged the coat off and chucked it at Law's head. The older man averted his gaze as Luffy stripped down to his shorts without a hint of shame, leaving the enormous coat to collide with his face.

Law hissed in annoyance, and flipped Luffy's retreating form off the second he untangled himself from the feathery heap.

Luffy's giggles echoed from behind mountains of clothes, piled in haphazard heaps across a sea of overlapping rugs. The two of them were lurking within a clothing stall in the heart of the street market. Though 'stall' wouldn't have been an accurate description, it was an enormous tent of messily stitched patchwork fabric, thrown up in the midst of the market and jutting into the street. The ground was covered in layers of patterned rugs, and within lurked a maze of colorful mounds, unlit save for the light casting through the sheer fabric of the tent.

The place was overstimulating at best and stunk of old wool and cigarette smoke. But Luffy liked it well enough, and hadn't given Law an option as to whether or not they'd spend literal hours tearing through the heaps of clothing.

Luckily the place was relatively empty save for Law and Luffy, as none of the Shifties seemed willing to purchase clothing that stunk of cat piss and the elderly.

Luffy cackled as he darted behind the changing curtain once more, his arms laden with tacky patterns and heavy velvet. He was damned lucky that no one had caught sight of the brand on his neck, running around half naked as he was.

Law sighed heavily and slouched upon his throne of discarded clothing. He craned his neck and gazed up at the sheer tent overhead.

Nothing had been going according to plan.

It had seemed like a stroke of fate when he'd overheard Luffy chattering about needing to get to the Clear. If Law ran into a fool in the streets who didn't need to be tortured into enduring the journey with him then that saved a fuckload of trouble. Or at least it should have, but agreeing to ally with Luffy had been somewhat of a… miscalculation on his part.

Damned Iva. Law would have been on the Clear by now if they hadn't been so fucking difficult.

"I'm not sending you to the Clear on your own, Law-boy. The least you can do is find one person to watch your back."

That memory had been playing on repeat in Law's head for days now. He'd found someone stupid enough to travel to the Clear with him. He'd fulfilled Iva's stupid condition. But every time Luffy threw them off course or looked at him with one of those damned smiles that meant he was about to start shit, Law felt as if Iva was cursing him. Watching him suffer and laughing about it.

Law grumbled under his breath and slouched further, his arms crossed tightly over his chest with Kikoku clutched in one hand. At least his blade was a loyal ally. She didn't talk incessantly for hours or get distracted every other minute.

"Behold!" Luffy cheered as he burst from behind the changing curtain. This time he was wearing a low cut ball gown. The black silk clung to his form and puddled at his feet. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

Law told him as much.

Luffy cackled, his arms wrapping around his stomach as he doubled over in all his amusement.

Law's mouth flicked up at the corner as he watched the fool from underneath the brim of his cap. Once he caught the faint smile he was quick to kill it.

What was… with that? He'd started smiling all of a sudden. Ever since he'd started traveling with Luffy. It was annoying. He hadn't smiled this often since…

This time Law was ready for the fabric to be chucked at his head. He caught the ball gown in his fist before it could collide with his face. He glared at Luffy, who giggled as he darted behind the changing curtain once again. Law shook his head and tossed the black gown to the side.

How much time had they wasted in this damn stall? Two hours? Three? Not to mention the jewelry booth and the man with knives in his coat and the dozens of others before that. They were looking for one fucking merchant who was supposed to be pretty damned easy to pick out in a crowd, it shouldn't have taken this long.

Luffy's brother was on the line here, but the guy didn't seem too concerned with finding Franky and getting the damned mission over with. Law always worked alone, and this was exactly why. Other people only ever served to slow him down, make him weak. Anyone aside from his blade and his conviction was a burden, manacles on his wrists and a steel ball chained around his ankles.

But for some reason Law didn't…. entirely… hate Luffy. Why was that?

Rinse, wash, repeat.

Find a mission, complete it, get paid.

Law's entire life had been an endless cycle of violence and scraping berries together. He'd been a dog on an incessant hunt for dangerous information since before he could remember. Finally a scrap had been tossed before his feet. A glimmer of hope, the scent he'd been searching for caught on a passing breeze.

Then, right when he finally oriented himself to claw his way to the surface, Luffy dove beneath the waves and sent him off kilter in a storm of rubbery limbs and toothy grins. Law was so close to his goal but Luffy only served to hold him at arm's length.

Though against all logic… Law hadn't gutted Luffy like a fish and cast him aside.

What exactly was this man to him?

Law hadn't figured it out yet.

He didn't hate the rubber man's company, which was a miracle in and of its own right. Law supposed he'd stick around to find out. Besides, like it or not, he needed Luffy in order for his plan to work. And as far as Law could tell, Luffy needed him too.

Though who was using who had yet to be revealed.

The fool burst from behind the curtain once more, wearing a shirt that was three sizes too large with an enormous woolen scarf wrapped several times around his neck. Law snickered behind his hand as Luffy paraded about, making an utter idiot of himself, as always.

A bundle of clothes was chucked at Law's head and Luffy disappeared behind the curtain once again, a cycle that had dragged on for hours. Yet Law couldn't bring himself to break out of it.

Then a chill ran up his spine. A hunch. An instinct. Tension coiled down his spine.

This sensation was familiar.

Not a split second later, a commotion erupted from the front of the tent, where an elderly woman with a bad tremor sat behind a crooked desk covered in layered tablecloths.

"You," spat a snotty, authoritative voice that Law recognized all too well. "Your stall violates three street vending codes, it's a fire hazard and if you don't get it out of the damn street then I'll be forced to take legal action!"

The old crone grumbled and spat a mouthful of tobacco into a metal pot. "A ray of sunshine as always," she drawled.

"Search the place," the voice barked, "We can't be too careful." The tent was flooded with the stomping of boots, harmonizing with a colorful string of curses from the woman.

Law moved immediately, darting from the mound of clothing and slipping behind the changing curtain a split second before a crowd of soldiers stomped through. Luffy startled as Law materialized behind him in the cramped space. He spun to face him with his arms in a crocheted sweater and a quizzical look in his eyes.

"Tra–"

Law was on him within a split second, wrapping his arms around Luffy on pure instinct and clamping a hand over his mouth to shut him the hell up.

Luffy understood by some incredible stroke of fate, standing frozen in Law's arms behind the curtain and encased between lurching walls of stacked fabric. They listened with frantic eyes as the military tromped through the maze of fabric, prodding the noses of guns into the mountains and kicking ruthlessly through the foothills. All the while two criminals two Layers away from home hid behind a single flimsy curtain.

The old woman held a screaming match with the military dickwad who'd stormed into her stall unannounced to turn it upside down. Law gritted his teeth. He hadn't expected to run into this fucker, though he shouldn't have been suprised.

After all, making enemies with none other than the infamous Captain Smoker was just asking for trouble.

Luffy covered Law's hand with his own and pulled it away from his mouth. "Do you know that guy?" he murmured. Law felt the hum of the words where his chest pressed against Luffy's.

"Something like that," Law breathed, his chin still tucked over Luffy's shoulder. "We need to get out of here. He's bad news."

Luffy tilted his head in Law's direction, "Lead the way."

Law realized just how much personal space he'd eliminated when he felt Luffy's words dust across his lips.

Huh.

"This way," Law instructed. He grabbed Luffy's hand without thinking and whispered a hushed "Room."

The two of them materialized behind the enormous clothing stall, where the row of vendors at the street market backed up to an enormous wall of concrete; the foundation of the immense buildings overhead.

Law didn't waste any time, and immediately tugged Luffy along. He set a brisk pace, putting as much distance between them and Smoker as he possibly could. Luckily he'd placed them in somewhat of a shortcut, as the tight pathway behind the street market stalls was far less crowded than the main drag.

"Woah!" Luffy ogled, "This place is cool!"

Law grunted as he yanked the fool along by the hand. This was not the time or the place to get distracted. They'd fucked around enough as it was, and now Smoker was patrolling the street market. They needed to find Franky and get the hell out of there.

Stall workers watched the two of them hurry by with curious eyes. The ally was full of stacked crates of overstock, carts used to haul produce, and even cots and rumpled blankets. Some people lived their entire lives on the street market, waking up at the crack of each day cycle to make just enough money to pay for another day's street vending pass.

Workers on break smoked against the wall and played cards on makeshift tables. Puddles of murky liquid gathered on the cracked ground, where they refracted the light from cigarettes and strings of tiny lamplights dangling from the backs of tents and stalls.

Law kept his head low and tried not to make eye contact. In contrast to Luffy, who waved and greeted everyone they passed. They probably made quite the sight. Law with Kikoku slung over his shoulder and Luffy half dressed with a stolen sweater caught around his elbows–

Oh shit.

Law all but sprinted behind a stack of crates, dropping to his knees in a panic and pulling Luffy along with him. The raven followed along, watching Law with a dopey smile and eyes with absolutely no thoughts behind them.

"What is it, Traffy?" Luffy teased. "Wanna lock yourself in a closet with me again?"

Law gritted his teeth and ignored the suggestive lilt in Luffy's tone. Because sure enough, the idiot was still shirtless, with absolutely nothing concealing the brand on his neck. Law ripped the straw hat off Luffy's head, with the sweater quick to follow.

Luffy giggled, "Damn, at least take me to dinner first. Oh wait! You already did!" His commentary was entirely unhelpful.

"Shut up and put the damn sweater on," Law hissed. He didn't know why his face felt hot, and he wasn't about to start unpacking that now. He untangled the stolen sweater and yanked it over Luffy's head, thanking the Goddess that it had a high collar.

The two of them bickered behind the stack of crates, much to the amusement of the surrounding stall workers. None of whom were paid enough to turn the pair of suspicious men over to Captain Smoker.

The lighthearted mood was killed, however, when a group of men passed through the makeshift alleyway.

Stall workers hushed up, averted their gazes, and even darted back into their tents to avoid the group. They were tough, laced with muscle and dressed in clothes lined with fish scales. They were infamous, especially on the street market.

And today, they were in a bad mood.

Their words were terse and bitten, anger and frustration pouring off them in waves.

"Boss is out of his mind," one hissed.

"He's also fuckin pissed," another complained. "My buddy looked at him for too long and got shot sixteen times."

"The ranks are a mess," grumbled a third. "Missions are falling apart and Boss blames us for it? How are we supposed to succeed without anyone in command? And it's not as if Boss will dirty himself on the front lines."

Crates clattered as one lashed out in rage. "None of this would be fucking happening if Miss Nami was still here."

The group voiced their agreements, the din of their comments a low roar in the tight space.

"She didn't even do nothin wrong!" complained one man.

"It wasn't her fault," another snarled. "Some low life smuggler dropped in and the military lost their shit. The fuck else was she supposed to do?"

The group's voices roared as they stormed through the alley, drawing closer and closer to where Law and Luffy hid behind a stack of crates.

"You know what? I know who screwed her over," one man bragged.

The group surged around him, demanding to know who to direct their hatred on.

"I was there when Miss Nami's final mission went under!" the man continued. He forced his way to the front of the group, where he turned on his heel and walked backwards to address his fellow men. "It wasn't even a big-name smuggler. Just some rando Dirtie who thought he could mess with us."

The group shouted and guffawed. The stall workers who had been watching Law and Luffy's antics scrambled to hide within their tents.

"He was a shrimp!" the man cried. "Doesn't even have a wanted poster. I could snap him like a twig. He's about yay-high, probably has fleas, and wears a straw–"

It couldn't have been accredited to anything less than a stroke of bad luck.

For just as the group of men passed by, Law and Luffy emerged from hiding, unaware of what waited for them outside.

Luffy hopped from behind the crates and immediately collided with the man at the head of the group.

The two of them grunted, before stumbling and whipping around.

"Watch where you're going!" Luffy and the man barked in unison.

"Luffy," Law warned, a million alarms going off in his head the second he laid eyes on the group of men the idiot had just pissed off. These were the Fishmen, and if Luffy didn't calm the hell down then they were about to be in some serious shit.

"Fuckin punk," the Fishman Luffy stood off with shoved the shorter man, where he collided with Law's chest.

"Hey!" Luffy protested.

Law gripped his arms and struggled to hold him back. "Luffy, no," he hissed. "Do you have any idea who these men are?!"

The crowd of Fishmen circled around the two of them, spreading in a tight arc and boxing them against the wall. Law knew when he was in deep shit, and this was one of those times. Sure, he could have killed the whole lot of them in under a second, but you didn't fuck with the Fishmen.

That was a death sentence.

Luffy, however, seemed ignorant of that crucial truth. Either that or he didn't give a shit. Law suspected the latter.

"You got a problem?" Luffy's new enemy demanded. "Because I can teach you a–" He trailed off. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Luffy's face.

Law's stomach dropped. This was about to get really fucking bad, wasn't it?"

"Hold on. I know you," the Fishman breathed. "You're the guy who fucked Miss Nami over! Straw Hat…"

Tension soaked the air as starkly as red wine on white cloth. The crowd of Fishmen turned hostile, and just like that the situation escalated past the point of no return.

Luffy, the complete utter moron, only served to make it worse.

"I don't know who the fuck that is," he scoffed. "But if you've got a problem with me then we can solve it. Right here. Right now." He ripped his arms out of Law's grip and cracked his knuckles.

What in the actual fuck is wrong with him.

Law could have cried.

The Fishman laughed. "Oh, this'll be fun."

"By the Goddess," Law muttered through clenched teeth, swiftly drawing Kikoku and preparing for a bloodbath. We need to do this fast, clean, and low-profile. Smoker's right around the fucking corner, so we can't make a scene–

"For Miss NAMI!" the Fishman screamed at the top of his lungs. He threw a heavy punch aimed directly at Luffy's smug face, who ducked it without a second thought. Law whipped the flat of Kikoku's blade in front of him just in time to catch the man's fist.

The clang of metal rang out in the alleyway, quickly followed by a burst of laughter from Luffy.

The raven was on the move the second the fight broke out. He swept the offending Fishman's legs out from under him and then tackled the next closest man, leaving Law with a perfect opening to stab the fallen man through the skull. Which he did without a hint of remorse.

As the man screamed in death, the first kill was Law's. He was immediately swarmed. Kikoku made easy work of his attackers. Law was silent and efficient, like always. Luffy, however, was screaming at the top of his lungs and fighting six men at once. It was almost as if he was trying to make the biggest scene imaginable.

Law ground his teeth and formed a quick Room. He was right about to end it by bringing the stack of crates on top of their enemies, when Luffy was kicked through the gut by a man three times his size, sending him flying through the neighboring stall and into the open street. Law could only watch in horror as the remaining Fishmen completely ignored him and tore through the poor, half trampled stall to chase after Luffy.

Goddess fucking dammit.

"Luffy, what the fuck!" Law yelled. He stomped through the remains of the stall to find an absolute fiasco on the other side. And in the middle of the damned street! An enormous bubble had formed around Luffy and his remaining five assailants, but more and more Fishmen kept emerging from the crowd.

Shit, this was so fucking bad.

"Move!" Law barked at the rubberneckers. He began to wade through the sea of onlookers, which only served to get denser and denser as more people flocked to watch the street fight.

He caught glimpses of Luffy's fight over the heads of dozens of people. Ten on one, twelve, sixteen, twenty.

His heart was flooded with panic, even as Luffy held his own with a psychotic grin on his face. He threw punches, swept feet, and kicked men directly between the legs. He fought dirty, just like the smuggler he was.

One thing that befuddled Law, though, was why he wasn't using his powers! This fight could have been over, but Luffy was holding back. He wasn't even letting his rubber body convulse to absorb hits, what in the fuck?!

The second Law stumbled into the ring, he skewered three men on his blade and severed them in half. Blood sprayed the ground and splattered the front row of the crowd, making dozens scream and hyperventilate.

"He has a weapon!" one of the Fishmen yelled, most unhelpfully. Several armed Fishmen leapt into the fray, and Law saw nothing but chaos. He clashed violently with tridents and sleek blades, all the while lashing out with his feet and fists whenever he got the chance. Kikoku was soaked with blood within a matter of seconds; it pooled on the ground and made Law's fingers sticky where they gripped his weapon.

Law didn't catch a single glimpse of Luffy in all the madness, and was only able to keep tabs on him thanks to the horrific screams of the men he beat without mercy.

Then it was Luffy who screamed in pain, and Law couldn't have described the wave of terror that crashed over him if he tried.

"LUFFY!" he yelled, snapping his head in the direction of the shout. A mistake; his enemies took advantage of his distractedness and kicked him savagely in the gut. Law gagged as his head smacked against the ground. A half a dozen blades descended towards him for the kill, and Law quickly summoned a Room.

He switched places with one of the surrounding Fishmen, whose screams could be heard as he was stabbed repeatedly before his fellow men realized the swap had occurred.

Law, meanwhile, found himself on the ground at Luffy's feet, who was fighting one handed with the other clutched over a bloody gash across his stomach.

"Gods dammit!" the raven roared, clearly more annoyed than life threatened.

As he kicked a man through the teeth with sandaled feet, Law rolled his eyes and righted himself.

"Use your powers!" he barked at Luffy, "What are you doing?!" He hacked at the waves of men as they came at his stupid, stupid ally.

"What?! I can't do that!" Luffy yelled, sounding absolutely shocked that Law would even suggest such a thing. "Then everyone will know I'm Devil Born!"

Law snarled, "So what?! Room!"

He then lifted every remaining Fishman from the ground and slammed them back down, where they stumbled and screamed as ankles cracked and bent. Law lashed out with his sword quickly, before they could recover.

The surrounding crowd descended into an all out panic.

Luffy gawked at the display, utterly horrified that Law had openly used his powers.

"Don't just stand there!" Law barked, pointing his sword from one man to the other as he took the Fishmen apart like puzzles and stacked their body parts back together in horrifying displays.

"IT'S THE SURGEON OF DEATH!" one Fishman screamed.

"Run!"

"Why is he here?!"

"He's insane!"

Luffy shook himself and recovered, just in time to block the incoming punch from another Fishman.

Where the fuck were they all coming from?! Law knew that the Fishmen held a monopoly over most of the street market, but was today seriously collection day?! Just how bad was his luck?!

Very bad.

Down right terrible, actually, as Law was about to find out.

Fighting in the street had been a terrible idea, especially with his powers. For the second he heard the screams, Captain Smoker was on the scent like a shark in bloody water.

The moment Law saw the smoke billowing around his ankles, he knew he was fucking screwed.

"Shit!" he gasped, completely freezing up as he stared in horror in his feet.

The surrounding Fishmen quickly followed his gaze, their faces mirroring his as they shouted in panic.

"It's Smoker!" one barked.

"Fucking run for it!" another chimed in, right before a man with silver hair and three cigars rocketed into the center of the fray on a trail of smoke.

Captain Smoker tackled two Fishmen to the ground the second he arrived, then screamed as he stood on their backs. "Everyone freeze! I place every single one of you under arrest, on behalf of the Mid Capital Military Ring!"

Soldiers flooded the ring, and before Law knew what he was doing he was lifting his fingers and forming an enormous Room.

He locked gazes with Luffy right as Smoker's locked onto him.

Those chocolate eyes were wide and stricken with horror.

As the name formed on his lips, Law vanished.

"TRAFFY!"

Luffy's cry could be heard across half the street market. It burned Law's ears when he snapped into existence far, far away. At the very end of the path, where the crowd trickled out and the street market bled into dirty, impoverished streets.

The stalls here were shady, half broken down and selling wares that were far less than legal. It stunk of pot and motor oil, which was exactly how Law felt when his thoughts caught up with him and he realized what he'd just done.

Luffy's scream played in his mind on repeat, he saw nothing but those fear stricken eyes whenever he blinked.

Law was safe… but Luffy…

The tattooed man pulled at the bill of his cap and ground his teeth.

Luffy was fucking done for.

Which was probably for the best. Law had only needed him to fulfill Iva's condition, and that hurdle had been cleared. Now Law could properly see his mission through. In a timely fashion, without distractions or constant chatter or incessant giggling or…

Or…

Law stood in the middle of the street. Kikoku clutched limply in his fist, blood dripping from all over himself to pool in the ground at his feet.

He always worked alone. Preferred it.

So why…

Why was his entire being screaming at him to go back for Luffy?

He'd fucking forgotten about him when it was time to run! Cearly the man in the straw hat wasn't anywhere near Law's top priority! He was a liability, if nothing else! Law was better off without him, he was always better of without burdens, without other people, better off alone, alone, alone–

Unbidden, a memory flicked past his mind's eye.

Sitting alone with Luffy in an abandoned skyscraper. Listening to the silence and the other man's shallow breathing; watching golden light dance across a scarred cheek as he slept on Law's shoulder.

Law snapped his head up and met the gaze of the vendor who stood behind the stall in front of him.

A man with ridiculous blue hair flicked a pair of dark sunglasses down his nose.

"Can I help you, brother?"

Law ground his teeth so hard that it hurt. "Fuck. Fuck it all to hell– Shambles!"

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

When Law returned to the scene of the fight, he found white uniforms as far as the eye could see. Fishmen were bound in chains and sitting in neat rows on their knees. But Law only had eyes for Luffy. He scanned the crowd for his idiotic alliance partner, he only needed two seconds–

But Smoker was on him in one.

The tip of an enormous jitte poked Law between the shoulder blades, and all the strength seeped out of his body. He fell to his knees on the ground. The defeat bit worse than anything he'd ever felt.

A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, as if things couldn't get any worse.

Law refused to look up at the man who hovered beside him. Refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite smuggler," Smoker drawled. He sounded just about as happy as Law was in that moment. He jabbed the sea prism stone tipped weapon harder into Law's back. "How's life been treatin' ya, Surgeon of Death?"

Law snorted. "Just fine. I ought to congratulate you." He glanced up at Smoker from the corner of his eye. The officer looked down on him with a heavy frown and a quirk to his brow. "It only took you ten years," Law taunted.

Smoker growled, before kicking Law into the awaiting hands of a crowd of soldiers with sea prism stone cuffs. "Take this criminal away. I have a very fun report to write."

Law spat after Smoker's heels as he stomped away. Rage broiled under his skin. He was fucking pissed.

The soldiers' hands shook as they clamped the manacles around his wrists.

Passersby gasped and whispered behind hands. They recognized that scowl, those tattoos. His wanted poster was plastered from the Dregs to the Mid. The Surgeon of Death. A dangerous smuggler who had evaded capture for ten whole years. Captain Smoker's famous failure.

He'd finally gotten caught.

The expression on Law's face could have killed a lesser man on the spot.

He was hauled to his feet by a flock of soldiers, the sheer number of them incredibly unnecessary. Law was manhandled across the crime scene, before being tossed onto the ground beside the very man he'd gotten himself arrested for.

Law grunted as he hit the ground, and tried not to kill the soldier who shoved him to his knees.

"Traffy? You came back?" The voice was alight with wonder.

The man in question glanced beside him, where Luffy knelt on the ground, bound in ropes rather than sea prism stone. He could have escaped if he really wanted to. Law could have killed him with his teeth.

Unable to formulate a proper response, Law merely rolled his eyes and looked the other way.

Luffy snickered.

Law groaned and tried not to beat his head against the bloodied concrete.

"I hate you."