Chapter Nineteen | Zoonosis
Luffy spent about five minutes cracking the shell of Mister Three's wax suit before Usopp shot a water balloon full of booze at the man and quickly followed it up with a flame star, melting his armour in no time flat. The whole while Vivi spent her time shuffling in awkward silence, doing her best to avoid looking at the now stagnant pool of blood surrounding the two Baroque Works agents' corpses. It wasn't until Luffy came traipsing out of the jungle after chasing the man down in his second attempt to flee that she saw Quinn return to reality. It reminded her of those books in the family library about golems, and Vivi wondered if Quinn's slow blinking and haggard glances would have done the mudmen justice. Clay, peeling back to reveal eyes of chipped onyx, glinting with a strange approximation of humanity.
It was then that she realized the island had fallen quiet, and it was only the lazy whistle of Luffy that stole both Vivi and Quinn's attention.
From a distance, Vivi could see the woman's movements were sluggish as she perked up at the whistle and then retreated from the massive, somewhat waxy, but now completely free form of Brogy. "Thank you," he whispered to her, no doubt exhausted but still loud nonetheless. Someone of his size couldn't be quiet, no matter how hard they tried. "I feared I would meet my end at a coward's blade."
Everyone watched Quinn awkwardly scratch some of the mud from her face and neck, frowning when her nails caught on the length of twine that held Luffy's hat in place. She glared at it as if it were the first time in her life she'd ever seen a string, and Vivi knew that dumbfounded look, one stricken with abject exhaustion, had been shared by herself two years ago when she first infiltrated Baroque Works.
God, it felt like a lifetime ago when her and… Igaram.
Igaram.
Though she pressed a hand to her chest it did nothing to take away the sudden heartbreak that wrenched at her like a prybar violently crammed between her ribs.
She'd grown up knowing Igaram. Uncle Igaram. Not the Captain of the Guard. Just Igaram, who always had a new book to bring her and- she'd have to tell Terracotta when she returned that her husband was dead. Wouldn't she? Shouldn't she? It was her responsibility to let the woman know he was killed and there should have been more I could do. I could have stopped it.
But could she really have stopped it? Really?
Looking at the Straw Hats, she wondered if the strength she fought to attain over the course of two years, two years of painstaking work, was even worth it. She'd already done away with her morals a long time ago. You could only bear witness to so much death and pain and suffering before you began to wonder if kindness was a fluke. Whether it was a bizarre mutation that rarely, if ever showed its face. Because every person she'd run into since that damned dance powder showed up was more than happy to kill a man for ten thousand berry, if not for the fun of it.
Quinn, the marvel, the mystery, the supposed visitor from another world made Vivi wonder if anything was worth it. And her question remained. What could happen to a person to make them act and look like that? So small and so frightfully dangerous at the same time?
She knew the answer even if she didn't want to admit it.
War.
Her mirror told her enough on the bad days, when a mission was handed down to her and she had to pretend that being accomplice to murder was just another day. That when Mister Nine took a bat to that old man's head near Kyuka Island it didn't take everything she had not to scream, empty her stomach, and run for the hills.
And how could Mister Nine, so kind, friendly, properly funny in a way that wasn't crude but, in fact, clever – change in an instant into a cold man who was more than capable of incredible violence?
War.
Given enough time and pressure, would Vivi end up like the woman in front of her? Lost in more ways than one and frighteningly talented in the art of taking someone's life?
A better question to ask herself: was she already becoming that woman?
-::-
Everything was foggy, as if the world in front of her had a plastic film between it and herself. There was just… a vague blur to it all, and her hands and feet felt miles away, like she was puppeteering her own body with crooked sticks and frayed string.
And there was a string between her fingers, not a frayed string but one that was cleanly stitched of dull red, and when she tugged on it she felt rough straw scratch the back of her neck.
"Your hat," she intoned, clumsily taking Luffy's most prized possession from where it hung across her back and holding it out to him, her mind catching up to her actions a moment later. "Captain."
"Thanks for holding onto that." He smiled, taking it from her and putting it on with a contented sigh. "I didn't want it to get messed up fighting Dorry."
"Did someone say my name?"
"Huh? Oh! Giant guy! You're alive!"
And he was, sitting up and grinding the heel of his palm into one eye, cursing loudly all the while. "Dorry? Dorry!?" Brogy roared, falling down upon seeing his friend as well as one can be after having their chest hacked open. "My friend! Oh, my friend, it's so good to see you alive!"
Quinn stared dumbly at the two as they embraced, tears falling like water spilled from a bucket, splashing loudly against the earth. Her heart beat a steady, unfeeling pace, fingertips buzzing with numbness and her breaths still clipped at the end. Slowly, her gaze turned to the splash of colour in the corner of her eye, the painted girl still sitting on her blanket. But she wasn't looking at Quinn, and instead her attention was dedicated to the two bodies laying in the dirt. Something dragged her attention away, and her eyes flicked towards Quinn with a heavy resignation.
It took a second or two for Quinn to peel back the layers hidden in that look the girl gave her, but when her intention was made clear she almost fell over at the weight of it.
The girl expected to be executed.
"Luffy."
"Yeah?"
"Can we… can we drop her off in Alabasta?"
He pivoted on the spot and shrugged, staring the girl down. "You gonna' try and hurt my friends?"
Confused, the girl blinked at him, slowly drawing a finger up to point it at her own chest. "Me? Do- d'you mean me?"
And god, her voice – it was thin and high and not at all something that should belong to someone who, by all accounts, worked for what Quinn could only infer was a business that began as a flesh market and was transformed into an army of headhunters acting out a junta.
Luffy, for his part, couldn't care less. "Yeah, you. Who else?"
"I don't- I'm sorry, I- no? No." Stammering, she put both hands up and shrunk into herself. "No, I won't hurt your friends. I promise."
"Luffy…" Stepping forward, Vivi offered the girl a curious glance, one laced with distrust. "She's a Baroque Works agent. We can't trust her, even if she does look like… that," she continued, gesturing broadly towards the girl. "I'd know that better than anyone else. All of us, even the millions and billions, have to be initiated."
"Initi-what-now?"
"You have to… you have to kill someone to join. Or hurt them so badly they'd rather die."
He hummed knowingly, tapping his chin with one finger. "You gonna' try and kill any of us?"
"No."
His stare went unbroken, arms crossed and a slight squint to his eyes, and Luffy didn't look away until the girl did. The instant she broke eye contact he smiled, content with whatever it was he saw in her. "She can come," he announced, before grinning at the sight of the two giants still holding onto each other for dear life. "Giant guy! I'm glad you're alive!"
"So am I, my small friend!" Dorry rasped, pressing a hand to his chest with awe. "It seems after a hundred years our weapons have dulled quite a bit. Even Elbaf steel can't hold up to that kind of stress." He suddenly gasped, bowing his head slightly in both Quinn and Luffy's direction. "And I must apologize for doubting your words! You truly did try and save me from that dastardly trick."
"It's okay!"
"What's okay?"
Strolling towards them with his hands in his pockets, Sanji tossed something lazily through the air and caught it as it fell, smoke lingering behind him in a thin trail. His gaze trailed over the bodies laying in the dirt and he paled slightly, eyes narrowing while he scanned the crew. "Anyone injured? Everyone alright?"
"Fine. Just fine," Nami blurted, elbowing Usopp in the ribs when he went to open his mouth.
All but stamping his feet, Zoro lumbered over to the cook and squinted at him. "Where the hell were you?"
"I was bringing my catch back to the ship when I realized everyone was gone, so I tried to look for all of you." Blowing some smoke in Zoro's face, Sanji smirked. "Found a little wax house with this inside," he added, waving about what Quinn now realized to be an eternal pose. "And I think you'll all be happy to know that Mister Zero thinks we're all dead."
Jaw dropping, Vivi practically sang as she asked, "Really!?"
"Of course, my blue haired beauty. I would never lie to you!"
"You talked with him?"
"Yeah. There was a transponder snail in the house."
"What?"
"Transponder snail? You don't… um-" Glancing towards the girl, Sanji's lips thinned out. "Don't have those where you're from?"
"...No."
"You sure no one's injured? Quinn?"
"It's just adrenaline, that's all." Quinn waved him off, it wasn't as if the strange chill in her veins was new to her. It was a familiar cold, one that always reappeared when she had to exercise her more focused brand of fighting. "Are you four alright though?" She continued, already feeling a bit more alert as she directed her attention towards Vivi, Karoo, Nami, and Zoro. "Not having trouble breathing?"
Nami shook her head. "No. No, I'm fine. You?"
"Fine." Vivi added, Karoo quacking a moment later.
"My legs sting but that's about it."
"Let me take a look," Quinn said, already moving towards Zoro who just tutted and looked away, like an embarrassed child being fussed over by his mother.
"Oh for- Jesus, Zoro. I didn't realize-" How goddamn deep those cuts went.
She knew he'd done something to his legs, but it wasn't until she'd gotten up close did Quinn notice that Zoro had picked the thinnest part of his ankle and cut through to the bone. It was a miracle he'd cut in a spot that just barely avoided an artery, and he seemed to realize that judging by the look she gave him. "Moron," she hissed, being none too gentle with her magic.
Zoro didn't even grunt, though she knew from experience that the hack job she was doing on his wounds stung more than a little. If he got wounded any more than this, if any of them did… there was only so much she could do when it came to field medicine, especially without a wand. What she was doing now amounted to little more than a bastardized episkey, forced out by will and familiarity alone. There wasn't many an injury Quinn couldn't visualize, that she hadn't felt herself, visualization and recollection of which made up a good chunk of wandless magic of any flavour.
"Someone with credentials is gonna' need to take a look at that," she grumbled, standing up and wiping the blood off on Zoro's sleeve.
"Hey!"
"Trying to cut your own fucking legs off- were you going to shove the stumps up their arses?"
To Zoro's continued embarrassment, Sanji laughed. Loudly. "I'd pay to watch that."
"You would?" Nami asked, eyes alight.
"No one is cutting my legs off except for me!"
"Oh yeah?" Sanji went to nudge Zoro but Quinn caught his foot with her own, glaring pointedly at the eternal pose he held. He had the good nature to look somewhat ashamed and retreated, lowering his foot and stuffing the eternal pose in his trouser pocket.
"Sanji!"
"Yeah, Luffy?"
"Did you catch some dinosaur?"
"Sure did."
Already drooling, Luffy waved an arm over his head and skipped in the direction that Sanji had come from, pausing after a few steps. "C'mon! I'm hungry and I wanna' see the next island!"
"You would leave without a goodbye?"
Dorry sounded louder, fuller, as if his chest hadn't just been hewn open by the dull blade of a century old friend.
"D'you want us to stay?"
He laughed, shaking his head in response. "No! Not that we would be averse to your company, but you don't seem the kind to ignore adventure! And what an adventure the Grand Line is! Why, there's an island ahead that-"
"No! No! Don't say it!" Plugging his fingers in his ears, Luffy screwed his eyes shut and hummed as loud as he could. "I don't wanna' know!"
"In that case, let Brogy and I send you and your crew off with a giant's goodbye!"
Things swept into a whirlwind from there when Brogy picked Luffy up and started walking to the ship, chatting amicably with him the whole while. The rest of the crew and their new passenger floundered awkwardly in the giant's wake, Dorry laughing loudly at the sight of them scrambling about. A faint part of Quinn noticed the odd looks Usopp was shooting her way, frowns and mutters and the occasional glance swept behind himself, looking for something that wasn't there. She just assumed it to be nerves, but the silence he held himself with instead of the usual, chattery brand of anxiety that seemed to be ingrained in his whole person became more and more evident the closer they got to the ship.
Nami had glued herself to Usopp's side, while Zoro and Sanji walked a respectful distance from each other, leaving Quinn boxed in with the men ahead of her and the more sane members of the crew bringing up the rear. To the side Vivi and Karoo had, when she wasn't looking, assumed responsibility for the Baroque Works girl who, while still ashen faced, looked remarkably less distraught than earlier.
Was she close with them? Quinn wondered, remembering how the girl's eyes had lingered on the two bodies left behind them, most likely already made food for the dinosaurs the island played host to. Or is it all a facade?
Curious, she poked at the girl's mind and, when her thoughts and memories had been made clear, a frown drew deep wrinkles across Quinn's brow.
Marianne was her name, or Miss Goldenweek, a higher up of Baroque Works at the spry young age of sixteen. Strange tastes and colours flitted through Quinn's conscience the deeper she dug – a bizarre, psychedelic mess of mental fireworks so loud and bright that her frown turned into a stumble, and she only managed to right herself at the last second with a swift retreat from the girl's mind.
Playing it off like she'd tripped on a root with a quick glance over her shoulder and a huff, Quinn tried to piece together the, frankly, astoundingly strange thoughts of the girl ahead. Colour and taste were intertwined for her on not just a mental but a sensory level, the deep greens of the jungle bringing with them the bittersweet of barley tea, the muddy brown a rich undercurrent of chocolate, and the occasional red – bright and bold splashes of it blooming across ripe bunches of fruit that hung from the trees above… that red tasted of a sour copper, an almost overwhelming, pungent sting of metal that could only be likened to blood.
God, what the hell was that?
She could already feel a headache coming on, and through the dull ache Quinn scraped at the recesses of her memories because something about this was familiar. The word for it was on the tip of her tongue, practically begging to be spoken, but try as she might she couldn't recall it. Was it in a book? Did someone tell her about… whatever that was?
Sine- syneh- she couldn't remember for the life of her, but whatever the damned name for it happened to be it didn't matter, as this tiny, unassuming kid turned bounty hunter had it and Quinn – unwittingly – had dove deep into said psychedelic headache through a strange blend of first and second-hand experience. Smelling words, seeing sounds, the general phenomenon of twined mental threads was a footnote in every advanced work on legilimency, and- The Art of the Mind, that was it. That was where I read about it.
The girl, Marianne, could taste colours. Every moment of every day, whatever colour captured her attention had an accompanying flavour to match. Quinn rolled her tongue across the back of her teeth, noting that the tastes she'd experienced poking around in the girl's mind weren't accurate, per se, moreso the idea of a taste. They were whatever analogue could be approximated from memory and then seared into the many nooks and crannies of her brain, forming the bedrock of the same paths oft traveled when she enjoyed a meal.
It was no wonder she'd turned to paints as a weapon. She experienced colour in a way no one else did, and the outlook and understanding of it she must have cultivated even from a young age would be wholly intertwined with who she was as a person.
But the strangest thing was that Marianne, if what Quinn had gleaned was correct, had never eaten a devil fruit. She was as mundane (or whatever passed for mundane in the Grand Line) as Zoro or Nami, but there was real, tangible magic in her paints nonetheless.
How?
That was a question she supposed she wouldn't get an answer to. Not out of Marianne, at the very least.
The remaining walk to the Merry was brief, Little Garden being quite a bit smaller than she'd first expected, unable to gauge the true size of the island through the dense foliage, not to mention the expedition's immediate devolution into fighting. Luffy was chatting happily with Brogy as they approached, and Zoro had begrudgingly nodded at Sanji's catch, a triceratops, which Quinn eyed with the slightest bit of awe.
A bloody dinosaur, and he took it down by (presumably) kicking the damn thing to death.
Though she had no hope of making it back home, if she ever did by any miracle, Quinn knew she'd have more than a little difficulty trying to explain the sheer strength people of this world wielded, and that she herself had begun to display only a few weeks after her arrival. "Need any help with that?" she asked as she climbed aboard, to which Sanji shook his head.
"Maybe after you get yourself cleaned up. You look like you should be with the Revolutionary Army, covered in mud like that."
"Revolutionary Army?"
"Most wanted people in the world," he explained, putting his hands on his hips while he watched the rest of the crew file onboard. "Next time you help me in the kitchen you can ask me whatever you like, how's about that?"
"Later, then?"
"Bath first. Talk later."
"Alright, alright." She put her hands up and meandered over to the hatch that led to her and Nami's room. "Bath, smoke, and then you can tell me all about the world."
Quinn then set about gathering a change of clothes before heading to the bath, taking care not to muddy her things before she'd even gotten clean. Even after turning on the shower she could hear chatter on deck, the stomping of feet as the triceratops carcass was dragged aside. The sound of it was soothing, the knowledge that the crew, her friends, were nearby a balm for her nervous heart. They were safe, and Baroque Works wouldn't be getting to them any time soon. It also helped that it had been years since she felt she could sleep soundly, accustomed to the sound of a half dozen others packed into the same room as her, each of them nestled in their own little four poster bed with crimson curtains and a trunk at its feet.
After Hogwarts everything was just too damn quiet. Even the sound of Dudley stomping about would have been preferable to a deafening silence, or the soft snores of a woman she'd long fallen out of love with. "Fuck," she muttered, her scrubbing turning into more of a clawing, her nails scraping against her arms. "God fucking damnit."
What were they up to back home? Had things moved on already? It had been quite a while since she'd arrived, and she must have spent nearly two months with the Straw Hats already, both officially and unofficially, the other chunk of her time spent a marine captive or working on the Baratie.
She didn't want to spend all this time marinating in her own goddamn misery, but how in the hell was Quinn supposed to reconcile what had happened to her? Would she, ever? Could she? Wiping the soap off her face, she pawed at the shower dial and yanked it shut, leaving herself to suffocate for a second, maybe two, on the silence of the breath she held and the quiet patter of dripping water. She sucked in a deep breath and opened her eyes, jaw working back and forth and her hand pressed against the wall, steadying her. Quinn had the Straw Hats now, yes, but a ramshackle bunch of people – some of whom she'd met only a short while ago – was a poor excuse for a world lost, even if the people she'd left behind resented her the same way she did them.
Barely know them at all, really. Why do they keep me around?
Luffy liked her, that much was clear, and because of that she'd held onto them with a reluctance that bordered on desperation. She didn't know where she stood, couldn't make sense of her own feelings, and remembering the events of earlier made her screw her eyes shut and sigh. Quinn would have saved anyone threatened by Baroque Works. It wasn't as if- she hadn't gone out of her way to make that decision. Near strangers most of them may be, she'd become an auror because she wanted to help people, not out of any sense of obligation. Taking out those two was par for the course as far as she was concerned. But she'd felt more than simple concern when Dorry had a bomb go off in his face and Luffy jumped into action, had her heart thump a painful rhythm against her chest when she turned around to find Vivi and Karoo missing with no immediate sign to where they might have gone.
"What a mess you've gone and gotten yourself into now," she groused, raking her fingers through her hair. "Fuckin' hell, it's like Coronation Street."
And did she make the right decision asking to bring Marianne aboard? Would that come back to bite her in the arse like half the choices she'd made in the last year alone?
It was times like this that Quinn wished she had even a drop of seer's blood in her, though she imagined she'd drive herself mad trying to scry her own indecipherable, evershifting future. That thought had barely passed through her head when screams rang out on-deck and a sonic boom followed, rattling the ship.
Her gut lurched as the Merry did, the gentle sway of the sea disappearing as her stomach pushed against her throat. Throwing her clothes on, still half-soaked from her shower, Quinn stumbled out of the bathroom just in time to see a gaping hole blown through a fish the size of a mountain. "What the hell is going on?" she roared, lurching headfirst towards where Nami had wrapped one arm around the starboard rail and shrieked with both horror and maddened excitement.
"A Giant's send-off!" was her reply, an astonished giggle lurching from Nami's chest as she leaned over the side of the ship and looked back at Little Garden.
Quinn just gaped at the sight of the sea below them, the Merry whistling through the air for the second time since she'd climbed aboard. "I walk away for five minutes and this happens…"
"It's great, isn't it?"
"You're mad."
"Maybe a little!"
Nami grabbed her arm and whooped loudly as they crashed into the ocean, her voice in chorus with the rest of the Straw Hats as they threw their arms in the air and cheered, stunned by the Giant's display of power.
They could have broken that damned island in half if they wanted to.
The mental image alone was enough to make Quinn's gut swim, forcing her to recall the sheer strength Mihawk wielded and realizing that what she'd just witnessed still wouldn't match up to the Strongest Swordsman in the World. What kind of monsters are out there waiting for us?
She shook her head, stumbling away from the rail. "Merlin, that was something else," she exclaimed, steadying herself before walking back to the bath to grab her dirty clothes. "Is every island gonna' be like that?"
"I hope not. Once was enough. And… Quinn?"
"Yeah?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"Can we talk later? About what happened on the island?"
Quinn froze, nodding slowly. "Is something wrong?"
"No. Just- I don't care. We're pirates for god's sake." Twiddling her thumbs, Nami looked down and sighed. "I just wanted to ask if you're okay."
"Oh." Blinking, she huffed and smiled. "I'm fine. But… thanks for asking. Though, if you can do anything about the heat…" Quinn trailed off, running her thumb across her brow and casting a cooling charm on herself. "Thought it would clear up getting some distance from Little Garden."
"Heat?" Nami walked up to her and put the back of her hand against Quinn's forehead. "You don't feel that breeze?"
"Not really, but now that you mention it…" She frowned, licking a finger and raising it in the air. "That's strange. Woah, that's- that's really strange."
"What?"
"I think I'm coming down with something. God, it's been years since I've been sick." Again, she wiped at her brow, still slick from the shower (or was that sweat?) and wincing at the light of the sun. Did it have to be so damn bright? "I think I need to lay down."
"Quinn, are you okay?"
"Fine, just- I'm fine, really." She put her hand up and took a step away from Nami, now squinting through the sunlight. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna' just-"
Quinn's knees gave out and she fell to the deck. It felt as though it was happening to a stranger, the dull thud of her shoulder slamming against the floor a distant sound, the shock that ran through her arm a faint memory. Far away, as if through a long tunnel, she could hear Nami shouting, feel a frigid hand pressed against her cheek and another tugging at her wrist. It was with that cold that she fell unconscious, her body wracked with shivers no matter the heat that coursed through her veins.
Hey guys! I know updates over the last little while have been a bit far and few between. Things have been busy for me, but New World Blues is definitely not abandoned, so don't go worrying!