Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

I hope you all enjoyed the story so far. I'm going to try to keep it short; only this chapter and the next one left before I finish and move on to my main passion: a fox getting captured by a femme fatale having a chip installed in his head that lets the girl see everything he does. Should be finished in three years.

XXX

Streets were extremely dusty from all the caravans and carts wheeling around. The ground he stood on was made of cement, but the roads in the opposite direction were as dirty as the deserts in Arabasta.

He ventured down the road with the dirt. He walked until a man with a flower mustache, tanned skin, linen blue shirt and gray cargos bumped into him.

His lips curled like a flower about to bloom while closing his eyes; a feign that he was sorry about the incident and wanted to make it up to him.

"Just shut your mouth and move your head when I ask you a question, you pig!" His eyes widened, his body flinched as Christopher pressed his katana against his waist. "I will never condole people like you-no human should be put through torture no matter what and yet you prosper from it. Make yourself useful and tell me are there any fish-men, Minks, or snake-neck people on this island?"

He shook his head; what Christopher expected. With a pat on the egregious man, Christopher jumped two stories off the ground landing on the chimney of a derelict house. He watched what behavior the human trafficker would take after what he said and did, and unsurprisingly he went straight towards a young couple he bumped into.

Christopher could guess he was promising a tour around the islet to where the lavish hotels and fancy restaurants were. What he was really going to do was nefarious and inhuman...

Christopher did nothing to stop it. He loped his way from rooftop to rooftop towards the king's palace.

The best time to enact his assassination would be at night. Until then he had to do reconnaissance of his target so he could get him while his guard was down. He already caught L-Anya making one big lie, but just from his first inspection he could see he wasn't a humble, benevolent king either. If there was one thing Christopher hated it was seeing a man's ass with what looked like a hair growing in their bum hole. He was humping a woman chained up in a marble room while making a glottal howl as his ecstasy made him think he was a god.

After that he ate more food on a table than what Christopher was allowed to eat in a week. He abhorred more his table manners than the gluttony of which he consumed. He was just tearing into anything while filling his mouth with wine as he did so. The liquids in the chalice dissipated quickly, snapped his fingers and a girl in a blue swimsuit filled it right back up.

To his surprise it was getting worse as he went to his stables of land and sea horses alike to inject them with syringes full of what he believed were augmenting their strength at the risk of their fertility. The ones who looked older, had sleep deprived faces and the circles around their hooves were full of black rings he sold to little men in green attire.

Not only was he lecherous, gourmandizing like he owned all the food, and greedy at the cost of living animals...he was also a gambler. He was gambling for hours on end with a bunch of unsavory individuals. Not only was he wasting time doing it, he was boisterous about the game whenever he lost a pile of chips.

He wasn't guilty of what L-Anya claimed him to be. He was still an abysmal ruler who was ruining his own kingdom. If there was one good thing he learned watching all this it was the perfect chance to strike.

Most of his obsequious attendants were dressed in skimpy outfits probably so it would remind his male reproductive organ it was alive and needed to release his sperm into the womb so he could have an heir to preside over.

But he used these women mostly as eye candy in everything he was doing-as of right now he was having his third meal of the day in a big long table. Christopher only saw him have two meals, but someone like him must remember to have breakfast the same way to stimulate his olfactory glands and his sense organs.

His predecessor as well the predecessors of most kings were codified in how assassins could break through their doors the moment they decided to have dinner. Every door was being guarded by a tall, strong, stern looking man with faceted rugged face and pecs the size of tiger-lynxes. They made one crucial mistake: they didn't have any windows for projectiles like Christopher's.

He let his bile travel up his trachea while trying not to throw up as it surfaced. Once the bile reached his mouth, he fired it through the window. The trajectory of his projectile reached its mark; it went right in the giant chalice of wine the oaf of a king liked to drink with his fancy dinner.

He didn't hesitate to slurp it down like he was filling the rim of his lips by overflowing it inside his mouth. Waiting for it to happen was as fast as snapping a stick; he started to cough gutturally. One of his maids acted like a convalescing grandmother going up to him and trying to find the spot to soothe him.

His body wriggled, convulsed before his chair toppled down and he slammed hard against the expensive rug decorating his floor. What happened next was agonizing to watch even for an assassin like Christopher-in the end he had purple veins under his eyes, his veins growing while looking like purple branches, and his drool looking a sickly green.

Christopher took no joy in watching him this way. If it didn't work before he'd do it again and again. His threshold-his fiefdom-was the only thing that turned him into such a detestable despot.

Christopher wasn't going to act like he was a prig; better to have a vile man like him doing deplorable things behind the scenes than there being no one who would take the life of those people.

Christopher returned to the safehouse making sure his eyes were on his tailbone. Strangely, staring at his tailbone gave him a sixth sense on whether someone else was looking at it as well.

When he didn't get that fringe in his head he normally had when someone was around, he opened the door hoping to have a little respite.

"Welcome back." Two girly voices announced in unison.

To his chagrin, the two lovers and Eugene were inside the safehouse. They were in there before he left-he just assumed they would be staying somewhere else to give him the isolation needed to brainstorm taking someone's life. And then he was approached by Eugene.

"What did you learn about your target?"

"He was a lecher who uses greed to fill his edacious meal plans. I won't be seeing him again."

He got the message. The girls trembled hearing how he could so could and calculative. A lamp was switched on in the corner.

"Welcome back Christopher."

That voice belonged to L-Anya. She had that smarmy look on her face seeing him. She also had a gray paper book in her hands. She jiggled it a little being coy with him.

"The job was to end his life not inject him with compounds that give him a seizure."

All three of her subordinates craned their necks flitting their attention at Christopher expecting him to sweat buckets from his deceit being unveiled. Instead, he had a sly smile stretched across his right cheek.

All three of her subordinates craned their necks flitting their attention at Christopher expecting him to sweat buckets from his deceit being unveiled. Instead, he had a sly smile stretched across his right cheek.

"If I had killed him, you'd be the prime suspect. These 'slaves' he's been hiding would never come to light and would only be herded somewhere else when their benefactor keeled over. Their so concerned over keeping him alive it has left his kingdom in disarray. You can use this opportunity to insert yourself into his fiefdom, and even when he recovers, he'll be mute and unable to write tiny sentences without getting a headache like some twenty something writer who thinks they're going to be a top-notch writer. Wouldn't you say that I've fulfilled my end of the bargain letting you reap what he sow?"

Although Christopher acted cocksure and confident with his decision...his heart was thumping so fast it was like a rabbit after the canine was done acting like it wanted to play.

L-Anya seemed very morose and statue-esque after his explanation, but that was just to see if a stoic man such as him could understate his words. With a swish of her hand, the notebook was launched towards him.

Christopher's habile reflexes were in his tongue, but he wanted to catch this important parchment with his actual hands. The letter came like a wolf bounding before the lunge...Christopher's family were the best in hunting those canid(s).

He caught the letter with the slit of his two fingers: middle and index.

The cover felt as he hoped it would-a good start to what he sought to have. He skimmed through the scrawl of the book. He saw the food mostly resembling Devil Fruit's but with a simple maze outlining white with the rest of complete darkness with speckles of red mixed in; if he was a guessing boy this was supposed to symbolize how most of this fruit was poisonous except for one part of it.

He wished he was satiated with this much knowledge; turning the page he saw a naked woman sketched in black ink with a circular orifice for a mouth, two bony horns for eyebrows, a floppy tentacle appendage for a ponytail, and black furry legs going from the tibia all the way up her calves.

She was the demon of lust Asmodeus; it really was the recipe he was searching for. What he said to her was a rarity in of itself.

"Thank you." Now he owed her nothing. "I'll be on my way now. Feel free to tell the Marine's or the soldiers of the king what I did, I'll be at the closest town on this islet by then."

He sauntered towards the exit. He was so busy looking at the two female lovers in the distance he didn't notice the tail of Eugene creeping behind. It moved around him until he was completely tethered in its grasp. Christopher didn't flinch nor did he hesitate to open his tongue for a good strike at him-he wasn't a complete scorpion hybrid as of right now.

"Leaving so soon?" L-Anya asked with a high-pitched lithe. "I still have another mission for you."

XXX

Eric and Elisha were sleeping together, naked. Their skinship kept them warm in those cold nights in the cave they nestled in for the night. Eric wept most of the night and Elisa had to soothe him stroking his head. Although neither one of them wanted to leave for different reasons, they had to...they both needed to fulfill their revenge.

They slept upside down; bat wings were furled like tapestries blocking out the sun. Now was the time for the wings to be unfurled and for them to leave.

The cave they entered wasn't uninhabited, and what resided in it were less than happy to share their den with them. They came down across the eviscerated, sprawled bodies of jaguar-bears and monkey-bats. Some were killed by a clean cut through the shoulders to the waist or through the torso while others had holes the size of cannonballs perforated all over their bodies.

The couple casually walked over rocks drenched in blood and ribbons of organs towards the entrance where the sun beamed down on their half-awake eyes.

Their eyes readjusted to the scenery of grass interflowed with jagged rocks, the turbulence of dense air flowing past them, and most beautifully of all the hue of a bright yellow sun rising with a gradient orange encompassing it behind a mountain. This was all very beautiful; it was frivolously taken for granted by both the multitude of people in the town miles from the hillside and the two who only thought of finding what they needed in that town.

Elisa heedlessly trekked down the mountain. Eric followed after her gliding down with his batwings.

Eric's gliding rove Elisa as she cumbersomely trekked down the mountain. She was fortunate enough they practiced last night going up and down the mountain until they felt too tired to move otherwise, she might have jolted into a rock and broke the bones in her foot.

Elisa felt like doing a little prank on Eric. While he wasn't looking a small gaping hole opened in her palm. Wriggling her hand, a little shaft of wood poked its way through the orifice. And then, the tiny piece of wood enlarged to an artificial pole. With her strength she pulled the pole back, her muscles bulging like a sailors' arm when pulling rigging, and then she launched herself heavenward towards Eric!

Eric felt a tingle trickling down his spine something was coming right towards him, but by the time he swiveled around, still keeping the pace of his wings, he was throttled by Elisa. Even though he felt the power of her whole body just ram right into him he didn't falter, and he didn't go crashing down. He had the strength to lift her up and twirl her around like he was the father of a five-year-old girl. Unlike that father and that girl he pecked her on the cheek before descending to the ground, both smiling with enough happiness to blind a goose in their migration.

This joyous moment of theirs didn't last as long as they wanted it too. As soon as they both finished tittering flirtatiously, they returned to walking into a town of people who were just sick of the way life has been treating them and had taken too much out of both their bodies and their souls.

This was the capitalist city of Virrey De Cay. Once people were able to take things slow, let their nostrils flare with the wind Eric and Elisa saw taking in the sunrise, and mingle man, woman, or other species or gender alike.

It was funny how a greedy king could make an island seem so luxurious and serene while a benevolent king caused it to fall to ruin. Eric tried not to think too much about it; they arrived at an alley with a black puddle.

They veered into the alley strolling down the small gap of old masonry until they came upon a black door with a red witch insignia bizarrely donning two hats on her head like they were ears.

They opened the door hearing the ringing of the trinket the shop owner embedded in the hinges...he was sitting in a black desk scrawling with a quill before flitting his attention to the couple. He had shaven black hair, curly black hair on his chin, a thinly black mustache, grey eyes and a purple shirt on.

"I didn't know people entered doors in alleys." He spoke. "If you are looking for something in stock, this is mostly just for me to ruminate and practice my writing for the big-"

Elisa nocked a stake from her palm that lodged right into his shoulder! He cursed, exclaimed how bad their treatment of him was; didn't get very far before Eric put his right claw-hand around his neck.

"You have a scroll that leads to something called Ryuko. We don't have much money, but what we do have is time to explore this legend and find it for ourselves."

"SHE SHOT ME IN THE FUCKING SHOULDER!"

"Give us what we are asking for and I can promise we'll leave you as intact as the moment before we entered."

"Screw you! I need to see a doctor; it hurts so much!"

The thing about pain and suggestion, people who are under interrogation can't help but clue the interrogator of their inquiry while searing pain was coursing through their nervous system. In no time his eyes focused on a shelf with only three books. Those eyes couldn't tell Eric which book he was fascinated the most with, but he had time to look through all three of them.

He did a gesture with his head; Elisa approached him as he got off the mans' lap. Seeing a man forced into submission, she cowgirl her way on top of him before holding her palm out for him to see. Soon that palm became a small incision of pitch darkness, a whistling sound looming what could come out and where it would go.

Anticlimax for the moment that made the man shudder so much it neutralized the pain in his shoulder when Eric pulled on her left ear.

"I found what we need; let's go."

Elisa weaved her head to Eric and too the man wondering how she could just leave when her actions could end with her mortally wounding this man. She made a decision.

She jabbed her open gap hole right into his previous wound. He could feel a plunge in his arm, but it was only the stake receding back into her body. She stood up, looked solemnly down at him as he writhed from the jaws in her palm. What she did next was inappropriate, act like it didn't just happen.

"Thank you for assisting us in finding your ledger."

"FUCK YOU!"

She ignored him walcing out the door.

She had no remorse for him having a stake shot in his arm whether he was innocent or corrupt, but she was close to relishing the pain she inflicted on people. When she was a child she couldn't even take a step without making sure there were no ants where she stepped...how innocence is shattered by venture.

Eric was stolidly encompassing the midsection of the alley as he read through the book as fast as he could; she knew once wouldn't be enough as she remembered him in his first year of school always speed-reading through his books trying to have more time to play. He was so bad at reading and the only thing his mother could do was tell him 'if you don't do your best in school and try to improve in your subjects, I'll look for you and drag you back to the house myself.'

Funny how he inherited his mothers' picadillo with her ears. Funnier how he went from roughhousing with other kids to actions verboten to the Marine's.

Very funny...so funny how kindred spirits grow up and die especially when their village was razed by those four marauders.

"I got it!" Eric exclaimed breaking Elisa out of her thoughts. "I am sure I know what island we need to go to."

"Wherever it is, it can wait until we reach Spider Miles-LOOKOUT!"

Elsha lunged at Eric while he was feeling a little flabbergasted after raking his brain to figure out the right island to go to, all of it felt like something heavy hitting the ground as Elsha pushed him down to save him from the long pink tree trunk extending through the middle of the alley.

Eric and Elsha stared northward where the long pink object came from. Sticking to walls like adhesives were poured all over his fingers was Christopher. His mouth was wide open sticking out the long tongue until he pulled it back into his mouth.

Elsha stared at him the same way someone would stare at a rare but not extraordinary bird landing in front of her, raised her hand to where he was, the hole opening through her palm...she nocked a spike in Christophers' direction. She was too far away for him not to be able to springing higher into the air and twirling like a daisy in a cyclone.

His reflexes were niggling her choice of actions. She wanted to come off as a dangerous woman but not one who was belligerent enough to shoot a volley of careless spikes that could end the lives of innocent people.

And then-she was lifted off the ground like a mole being lifted in someone's hand. Below her was Eric using his ample strength to give her a birds' eye view.

"You ready to take care of an assassin together?" He solemnly asked her rhetorically.

She spoke mirthfully, "Hell yeah! E&E aren't being taken out until we get our revenge!"

She opened holes in both her palms giving it everything she had, fired simultaneously to the left and right sides hoping the assassin would winch or evade into one of the sides a spike was shot in. He was undeterred, unwinced when they hit the floor.

He slid his right heel back, grasped his hand on his scabbard, and rushed headlong towards the boy; close proximity would make it harder for the girl to shoot her stakes at him.

Eric swung his blade in a clean arc, but the assassin blocked it with his blade. As their blades were skidding, sparks flying, Eric remembered his mentors lesson on how no samurai can kill someone with one swing-it was a stamina game, and Eric used a lot of stamina on Elsha while they were shrouded in wings.

"Elsha, get into position!"

Elsha understood what he was asking of her. She leaped off his shoulder, landing one foot forward while the other was bent, and landed on two sharp ebony horns protruding from Eric's head. She was like a ballerina now if a ballerina used her height to shoot spikes at assassins.

She fired a barrage of spikes towards him. It seemed like it was going to make direct contact until he stuck his monstrously long tongue out, hit the building and reeled himself away from the fire.

Eric may have bat wings, however, he didn't have ears that could twitch at the slightest sound like a bat...what he did have was experience to know he was going to strike at his flank in three, two, one...

Their blades collided. Once again sparks skid and teeth were gritted trying to push the other away. The main difference was the looming palm in Elsha's outstretched hand ready to fire a spike right between the assassins' eyes. She was suddenly plowed into by the long tongue swerving out of nowhere, his mouth concealed by his blade before it happened.

Eric used all his skills cleaving, parrying, thrusting, and slashing in a parallel arc but this assassin used his heel as a momentum, evaded like his body was made of a gelatinous dessert, and moved his body left or right pressing it against an invisible wall.

It vexed Eric to know that he, someone who spent five years training with a man who abused him constantly but taught him many unique swords moves, was being defeated by a person sent to kill him.

Without Elsha to help he was as good as dead, so he did the rational move of extending his wings and taking flight.

He was planning to flutter as high as he could until the assassin was just a speck below, then dive down and grab Elsha so they could escape. What he didn't plan for was the long tongue of the assassin wrapping itself around his ankle and throwing him to the ground as feasible as knocking over a deck of cards. He hit the ground only able to cushion the blow with his horns hitting the ground first and then embedding itself in the dried cement.

He wriggled only to be stuck in the ground while the assassin lifted his katana over his shoulders and sauntered his way.

Once the looming figure was standing over him he put both hands on his blade about to plunge right into the sprawled, injured boys' heart.

This was all familiar to something he did as a child. Back then he knew what he was doing was wrong but did it anyway...took him three tries to kill her since he wasn't used to taking a life that day. Now he could take his life by getting the blade to go through his throat.

He was suddenly interrupted by the loud intimidating roar of something heavy and dangerous.

He swiveled around the area to see if there were any tigers, lions or bears, but oh my the only thing he saw was fractured rubble, debris of broken barrels, and the occasional person peeking out the windows that didn't want anything to do with his assassination attempt.

Suddenly, he felt a heavy footstep mixed with the breathing of an abomination. He finally spotted what was creating that sound: an oval shaped head of brown wizen tree bark with small eyes and a mouth of sharp teeth. It had three spindly looking fingernails on both hands with long goatlike brown legs and muscles on its chest like loafs of bread packed together.

He trembled at how big and lanky it was. It reminded him of a few people who worked for his father he wouldn't want to meet where he was now. He couldn't fight it with his tongue unless he wanted to lose it, so he could plunge his blade down on the boy with the wings and flee. It was in that fleeting moment he looked at the monster that the boy scampered away with nothing left but a few speckles of his blood.

He stopped feeling sorry for himself over his mistake as he looked up to the hot breath spewing from the rows of teeth.

He wasted no time swishing his arm hoping the blade was sharp enough to decapitate the hideous head from its monstrous neck, only for a squirmy little white root to come out and knock the sword from his hand.

Everywhere he looked there were holes opening up and there was a white stick going in and out of those holes around her body. Christopher was taken aback, he was distracted, and because of that it was easy for the beast to thump him in the face where he stood.

He fought many big and strong people but the power of this fist was enough to knock him down.

The lanky creature would've finished him off raising him up and chewing on his body if he didn't disappear from sight the moment he hit the ground.

The monster waited solemnly under the basking calamine light of the early morning. The monster was of course Elsha in her truest form. She and Eric went through this erred and unprepared for the assassins' maneuvers, but from feeling how soft his flesh was on her knuckles she could tell he stood no chance against her now.

When nothing happened she flitted her gaze to a wall strewn with wings connected to a heaving young boy.

"Eric." She spoke in her guttural, monstrous voice.

No sooner did she say his name did a gaudy looking man plump as a plum wearing all lavish green accentuating his chubby face stroll in. He seemed very happy, like nothing in the world could hurt him. Then the moment his eyes gazed at the hulky brown frame with rows of teeth he backed up and nearly threw up in panic.

He raised his head to see the beast carrying a young boy on its shoulders...and walk towards him. He feared this would be the end of his easy life, however, it just walked by him without so much as a glance his way.

She and Eric would return to their dingy to continue their quest for revenge.