Chapter Two | First Encounter of the Worst Kind

"What the hell happened?" were the first words out of Quinn's lips after a brief, but no less awkward silence. As she spoke, she let a tentative brush of legilimency flit across the surface of Gin's mind.

Don Krieg Pirates. Grand Line. The Great Push. Chaos, blood, splinters – separated – Captain?

"I don't know! One moment I was on the ship and then the next…" Gin shouted, shuddering as he looked back towards the chaos, the only sign of it a distant plume of smoke reaching across the horizon. "The Pirate's Graveyard. By the sea, if only we'd listened. Don…"

"Do you think we're safe?"

"From a Warlord!? Who knows?" He drew his hands across his face, nails scraping against his thin goatee. "Of all the rotten fuckin' luck. We need to go back. We need to-" Gin froze, turning around to look at her. In a flash, he was holding a steel tonfa that came out of nowhere, Quinn might add, against her throat. "Who are you? I know everyone on the Dreadnaught, but you… you're a stranger."

His voice had gone cold. There was a calculating, unnatural tone to it that belied the sheer horror it had been stricken with just a moment before. The tonfa dropped from her throat the instant Gin's body locked up, the silent petrificus totalus taking him by surprise. Quinn inhaled, the sea air stinging her nose, and she looked at the frozen, terrified man with quiet contemplation.

He didn't look terrified. Not that he could look like much of anything seeing as he currently resembled a bruised plank more than a man. But another gentle prodding of his mind told Quinn that though he'd looked plenty resolute on the outside, Gin's only thoughts were those of fear.

Okay, you're on the job, Quinn told herself, doing her best to imitate Gin. Fierce on the outside, terrified on the inside. Fell through the Veil. New world, not the past. Definitely not the past. What was that magic? Where in this goddamn place are we?

She almost smacked herself in the head when she realized she had a prisoner right in front of her, one very obviously on the verge of a heart attack who would be more than willing (whether it was coerced or not) to answer her questions.

C'mon, it's just like an interrogation. Just like work, right?

Ropes sprung from Quinn's wand and wrapped themselves tight around Gin. Another twist, a jab, and a slice through the air for good measure and they'd been made nearly indestructible. "Alright Gin," she grunted, rolling her shoulders and pointing her wand at the man who, if he were able to move, would probably have flinched. "I'm going to ask you a bunch of questions and I'd like you to pretend I'm a newborn. I know nothing. Hope that sounds good to you."

Between one second and the next Gin was relieved of his petrification, and if Quinn hadn't been looking for a reaction she would never have noticed the almost invisible shiver that ran throughout his entire body.

"Aye," was his only reply, stone faced and steady.

"Where are we?"

"The Grand Line."

"And what is that, exactly?"

Gin's lips pulled sideways with confusion, but he soldiered on anyways. "A stretch of ocean that wraps 'round the entire world. It's dangerous… insanely dangerous, but it's where the One Piece is hid."

"The One Piece?"

"The Pirate King's treasure?"

"Pirate King?"

Letting out a weary sigh, Quinn sat back and glared at the afternoon sun. Fuck, if it wasn't hot out. Casting a cooling charm on herself and one on Gin for good measure, Quinn topped it off with a conjured glass of water to soothe her throat. "Pirate King, One Piece, Grand Line…" the words she spoke meant less than nothing, only serving to make her more confused than before.

What strange hell had she ended up in?

"So… you and your crew came to this ocean, the Grand Line, in search of treasure?"

"We came to make the Don the next Pirate King," Gin stated, his voice unwavering. Something rang out from his words, something intangible. It was fierce, determined, and most of all – willful. There was a power in that, and his declaration almost reminded her of a ritual, the action of speaking a spell just as important as the words themselves.

"And ran into a… Warlord, was it?"

"Aye. Hawkeye Mihawk-"

"-Well that's a little redundant."

"...Hawkeye, the bastard, tore our entire goddamned fleet to shreds. Why? Why?" Gin rasped, straining to look back at the smoke plume that grew smaller and smaller as they drifted away. "We didn't even attack him, and he killed 'em all. Five thousand men gone, just like that…"

He trailed off, voice sinking deeper and deeper as it petered out into nothingness. "Monster. That's what he is. A monster."

Gin looked back to Quinn, frowning. Whatever fight had been within him had disappeared, leaving only a prisoner in its place. "And you. Are you with him? Is this some kind of game to you?"

"God no. I don't know the man, I've never met him, and with how you've described him and from what I saw, I have no interest in ever crossing his path. No thank you."

"Then what's with the questions? What's with the… the Devil Fruit bullshit?"

"Devil Fruit?"

"Stop fuckin' with me!" he shouted, straining against his bindings. "Ya goddamn witch!"

"No. Shut up- what's a Devil Fruit?"

"Cut the bullshit!"

"Look, I'm not fucking from here, alright? Twenty minutes ago I was having a smoke. The next thing I know, some magic wind or some arshole Unspeakable's pushed me through an ancient portal and I'm falling out of the sky! Shit!" Quinn roared, kicking the floor of the raft. "Fuck! Just my luck!"

"What!?"

Ignoring the man, she instead scratched at her jacket pocket and yanked out her even more crumpled pack of smokes. She cursed under her breath, snapping her fingers and lighting a cigarette. Quinn sucked down the smoke with the same greed a drowning man would suck down air, and the plume that erupted from her lips stood in miniature next to the destruction a league away.

"I said I'm not from here, yeah?" Tsking, Quinn looked away, squinting against the sun. "I have no idea where I am, where we're going, or even what kind of fucked up magic that guy was using back there. Hawkeye Mihawk, what kind of name is that anyways? And what the hell is a Devil Fruit?"

"I've been captured by a madwoman… I'm gonna' die out here."

"Oh, give it a rest."

Ashing her cigarette over the side of the raft, Quinn frowned, trying to figure out what had been bugging her. Well, what had been bugging her besides falling through the Veil and ending up in a world in which piracy and monarchy had been married through some glorified scavenger hunt.

There was something off about the air. Every breath felt somehow… more. It reminded her of-

It was magic. There was magic on the air, in the water, in the dead wood that carried the two of them to safety. Quinn was surrounded by it, so much so that she wondered if she'd taste it in the plants this world grew and in the animals that roamed its lands. It was invigorating to say the least, and now that she'd noticed it, it had become impossible to ignore.

Was it this world itself that had dragged her here? Quinn had studied the Veil, not to the degree that the Unspeakables had, but more than anyone outside the fold had ever ventured. The only reason she even had access to those papers was because of who she was, and her position in the Ministry. And in every record, every written account, every observation etched into parchment, they all agreed on one thing. Whispers, and only whispers could be heard by the rare few that the Veil spoke to. Vague things that couldn't be discerned one way or another, instead some bizarre facsimile of voice and sound. Some postulated it was an imitation, the Veil a living thing no matter how loose the definition of the word. Others, most, assumed it to be the cloying voices of the dead, their words not meant for mortal ears.

Well, fuck the lot of them. Turns out it was magic pirates.

And unless she happened to find another Veil… well, there was no returning home now, was there? Quinn knew herself. She knew what she was good at, what she was bad at, and what she should avoid like the plague lest she end up blowing her own head off when an experiment inevitably went awry. Quinn could not, would not find a way back home on her own merit. Not unless this world happened to have an incredible array of magical literature dedicated to the subject of interdimensional travel.

Oh, god. What would Gin think? That she'd gone and run off, never to return after their argument? Quinn didn't want to get married but that didn't mean she wanted to ruin Ginny's life! Throwing her cigarette overboard, she then rested her chin on her knuckles, gut churning. "Shit," she muttered, shaking her head. "I've gone and ruined everything, haven't I?"

Fucking horrid, is what it was. And yet, the only thing Quinn felt (apart from the overwhelming guilt) was the most bizarre sense of relief. No more Ministry, no more need to needlessly put the weight of the world on her back… it only brought with it relief. Oh, she was certain at some point in the future she'd have an existential crisis that, being honest, had been a long time coming but – overall – she felt kind of good about things? (Of course, that thought brought with it even more guilt)

"Alright. Alright." Breathing in deeply and then letting out a slow, controlled exhale, Quinn turned to Gin and eyed his bindings. "Last question. What's a Devil Fruit?"

Gin's frown grew deeper, yet his eyes spoke of pure resignation. "You eat one, it gives you powers," he stated dryly. "But, you can't swim if ya do."

"Define powers."

"I don't know! Heard of a guy who's just made o' fire once."

"He's made out of fire."

"Yup."

"So… what? You throw some water on him and he goes out?"

"How the hell should I know! I've never met him."

"Fucking unbelievable. Unbelievable. This place is insane."

"You're one to speak."

"Just for that, you get to stay tied up."

"Oh, eat a-" Gin's eyes flew wide open. "Hey, lady. Don't wanna' be the bearer of even more bad news, but uh-"

Quinn scoffed. "But what?"

"Marines."

"Like the army?"

"Marine ship! Right'n front of us!"

Turning, Quinn's jaw dropped. "How the hell did that sneak up on us?" A great green caravel loomed over them, and all she could do was gape at the thing. "Marines? So we're saved, right?"

"Lemme' out of these right now or we're dead!"

Just as Quinn turned to look at Gin she heard a massive boom, spinning back to see a cannonball hurtling towards them. Her wand flashed on instinct, and the cannonball was instantly transfigured into a seagull that squawked, confused, before soaring off behind them.

"Hey!" she shouted, standing up on the raft. "What the hell?"

"Pirates!" A pink-haired man roared at them. "That was a warning shot! Surrender peacefully and we won't execute you where you stand!"

"Untie me, dammit!" Gin hissed.

"Warning shot? That was headed right for us!"

"I won't repeat myself! Surrender now or drown!"

Glaring at the ship, Quinn huffed before transfiguring a little white flag and waving it over her head.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm not listening to a goddamn pirate, but I don't trust these guys either. Now shut up."

She stood in silence as the caravel approached, a rope ladder tossed over the side of it once it had sidled up next to their raft. "Climb aboard and then immediately put your hands above your head. That is, unless you feel like getting shot."

"What a prick," she hissed, undoing Gin's bindings and jerking her head towards the ladder. "C'mon, up we go." His only reply was to glare at her, shaking out his wrists and cracking his neck.

Up the ladder she went, Gin following behind. Quinn made sure to tuck her wand into its holster before clambering over the top. Her hands raised at the same moment the butt of a rifle was slammed into her gut, all the wind escaping her as she fell, gasping, to the deck. "What the hell is your pro-?"

Her words were cut off by the rifle slamming against her head, and the world went dark.

-::-

Foggy, aching, and so exhausted she felt as though she couldn't even lift a finger, Quinn came to with the mother of all headaches and the sticky taste of blood in her mouth. Groaning, she opened her eyes and winced at the dim lantern light creeping in from the bars. She lifted one arm, just barely, only to hear the dull rattle of chains.

"Oh, look who's awake!" someone next to her cheered, and Quinn groaned again, squinting in pain.

"Shut up."

"I don't trust a pirate, she says. Let's talk to the marines, she says. Now you've gone and gotten the both of us killed." Gin laughs aloud, taunting. "What's a Devil Fruit? Bullshit. That seastone has you close to passin' out."

"I told you, I'm not from here," Quinn growled, head lolling from side to side. "God, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"You're not making any sense, you damn witch!"

"At least you got one thing about me right." She snorted. "Really, how thick are you? I'm from another world!"

"...What?"

It took every ounce of energy she had, but Quinn managed to swing her head around so she could look at Gin, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes. "I fell through a portal and ended up falling out of the sky above your ship. I have no idea where I am, or what half the fucking things you've said are or mean."

Gin's face froze, bewildered, the only sign that he hadn't been turned to stone the way his lips twitched as he tried to wrestle up a reply. "Another world?" he finally said, his voice faint. "That's… new."

"What? Not gonna' cry bullshit?"

"The Grand Line is all kindsa' crazy. I mean, Mihawk cut… he cut our ships in half like it was nothing. No warning, no- no nothing. Killed a thousand men with one swing of the sword." Gin chuckled, the sound like that of an engine that refused to start. "Some witch fallin' out of the sky? That's nothing."

"So you believe me."

"I think you're fuckin' crazy, but what do I know? World's a big place," he said, as if that settled things.

Hell, with how exhausted Quinn was it might as well have. "What is this seastone stuff?" she asked, rattling her chains. "Took the magic right out of me."

"Y'sure you didn't eat a Devil Fruit?"

"Me and ten thousand others all living in the same country?"

"You'n-?" His eyes bugged out of his head. "Ten thousand others?"

"More than that across the world. Must be about a million of us, maybe two when you take every country into account."

"How the hell would you even know that?"

"Ever heard of a census?" she jibed, frowning when Gin didn't even blink. "Government mails a questionnaire that everyone fills out so they know how many people are living in their country? How many are men, how many are women. How many are married, have kids, stuff like that?"

"You mean the World Government?"

"The world what?" Quinn paused, mind racing. "World Government… are these Marines with them?"

"Yeah, they are," Gin answered honestly. "You're not lying, are you?"

"Of course I'm not! Pirates aren't even a thing where I'm from. Maybe four hundred years ago, yeah, but not anymore. I mean, look at this," she groused, tapping the back of her head against the hull. "Wood. Wood. We make our ships out of metal. Haven't made them out of wood in… well, a hundred years at least. And that!" her chains shook as she jerked her head towards the swinging lantern just outside the brig. "Lighting a wooden ship with fire? That's just asking for things to go wrong. Do you even have electricity here?"

"Elec-what?"

Quinn just huffed, biting her lip. "Fuck." She kicked her feet out in frustration. "Back in my world, pirates were the worst of the worst. Sure, we wrote stories about them, but pretty much all they did was rape, pillage, and murder. Marines? Military, really, that's all they've been. Tend to help folks out if they're lost at sea, so I thought they'd give me a lift back to land." Clicking her tongue, Quinn looked over to her cellmate. "Guess I'm trying to say I'm sorry. Thought things would be at least a bit similar here seeing as, you know, pirates, navy, all that jazz. I'm assuming it's the other way around?"

"You're… not exactly wrong on the piratin' end of things," Gin confessed, glancing away. "The Don… all of us, we ain't exactly kind. Done more'n my share of killin' and thievin'. They call me the Demon."

"Demon?"

"Whatever the Don orders, it'll get done. That's the kind of man I am."

"Lovely."

Gin snorted, shaking his head. "You haven't seen this world. You don't know what things're like here. Trust me, once you've gotten a real taste of Marine hospitality you'll know it's kinder to put someone outta' their misery than leave 'em breathing."

"Yeah? Seems I've already got a taste. Pretty sure they knocked a tooth loose."

"Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet."

"Uh huh?"

-::-

Quinn severely underestimated how painstakingly cruel the Marines could be.

Fullbody, because that was the name of the bastard Lieutenant who'd captured them, had gloated about starving them and then, to neither of their surprise, done exactly what he'd said he'd do. Starved them.

It had been… a week? Two weeks? Honestly, Quinn couldn't keep track of time locked in the brig like this. It felt like getting tossed back in the cupboard back at the Dursleys' with nothing but a dim light overhead and the sound of her growling belly to keep her company. Well, that and Gin, who on occasion whistled a jaunty sea shanty when Fullbody wasn't sitting in front of the bars taunting them.

The sheer tenacity the man displayed was astounding.

If she were another person entirely Quinn would be tempted to kill Fullbody. Not that she was any stranger to death. You couldn't be an auror without occasionally having to take a life, but she'd prided herself on being one of the few people in the department who didn't kill half the marks she brought in. Her coworkers might as well have been bounty hunters at the rate they dragged in corpses rather than prisoners.

She wouldn't have to, though, seeing as Gin has been up to something the last day or two. When she asked him about it he just winked and put a finger to his lips, to which she'd rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the sting in her gut. God, it'd been forever since she was hungry like this. It was almost nostalgic.

They'd been moored somewhere for the last hour or so. Fullbody had shot a cannon at some poor bastard, judging by the explosion that had shaken the hull once they'd put down anchor. That man was far too trigger-happy.

"Hey. Witch."

"Quinn."

"Whatever, listen. We're gettin' the hell outta' here."

"Cluing me in on your- your little plan?" she rasped, choking on her words.

"Not cluing in. Look."

Exhausted, she dragged her gaze over to Gin to see him waving his hands at her, shackles missing. Quinn blinked. "Huh."

"Now, watch me work."

"Can't do much of anything else," she chuckled, enjoying the show as Gin shuffled the chains around to make it look like he was still bound. Then, he kicked his foot against the bars, hollering an impressively creative string of insults at the top of his lungs.

After a few minutes of cursing that would make a Scotsman blush, the sound of footsteps met her ears as one of the marines shuffled down the stairs, glaring at them. "Oi! Leave it alone!"

"Make me!"

"I'll- I'll come in there! You don't want a beating now, do you?" the marine choked, and Quinn squinted to get a better look at him. She almost clicked her tongue in disappointment, seeing what was an obviously fresh-faced recruit, barely out of his teens, if that.

"They hire kids?" she asked aloud, mystified. "What kind of military hires kids?"

"Don't talk like that about the marines, you filthy pirate!"

Her brows rose, unimpressed and more than a little offended. Filthy pirate her arse, what they were doing to her and Gin easily constituted cruel and unusual punishment. "Right," she droned, dry tongue flitting across the back of her teeth and sticking there. Quinn scowled.

"That's it!" the kid declared, fumbling with a set of keys and slotting them into the door. He threw it open and marched in, brandishing his rifle like a club. A grave mistake, seeing as Gin threw his chains around the kid's ankles and yanked them, knocking him on his ass. In a flash, Gin was on his feet, his boot heel smashing against the kid's head and knocking him out cold.

With a speed belying the near week of starvation they'd both been subjected to, Gin snatched up the keys and immediately kneeled before her, fiddling with her shackles. "C'mon, lemme' get you free and let's get the fuck outta' here."

"You're helping me?" she asked, genuinely confused. Fuck, she was probably hallucinating all of this. Here she was, Quinn D. Potter, starving to death in some insane, magical world full of pirates.

"Were you lyin' about being from another world?"

"No."

"Then you didn't know," he said, as if that was the end of it. Which, apparently, it was.

The instant the seastone left her skin Quinn felt rejuvenated, her energy returning to her in a single, massive wave. She blinked, dizzy from the rush and the excruciating hunger pangs, but she still clambered to her feet with her wand at the ready.

"You smell food?" Gin asked.

"Hell if I know. I could eat this bloody ship with how hungry I am."

Barking out a laugh, Gin marched over to a little side door and swung it open, snatching his tonfa off the wall. Twirling them, he nodded to himself and made for the stairs but then paused. He turned back around and fished at the marine's waist until he let out a small noise of celebration, revealing a flintlock pistol. He decided to tuck one of his tonfa into the loop of his belt

"If there's any kids up there don't kill 'em," Quinn demanded, Gin giving her a strange look before nodding.

The two of them made their way up the stairs, and Quinn winced at the glare of the sun. She lifted a hand to shade her eyes, spotting a few marines staring at the two of them with absolute and utter shock. They were stunned before she lowered her hand, three streaks of red leaping from her wand and striking them in the chest. There was the sound of a few thuds from behind her and then Gin was at her side, whistling as he glanced at her wand. "Hell of a thing, that stick."

"Eyes off, hands off. It wouldn't work for you anyways," Quinn drawled, looking at the four marines that he had knocked out. Or killed, what with the blood dripping off his tonfa.

At least they weren't kids.

He hummed in amusement, that hum swiftly shifting to excitement. "Shit. We're at the Baratie."

Whatever the Baratie was, it looked to be a massive ship. A building, really, with the aft and stern crafted into the head and tail of a fish, its mouth yawning wide. The centre column of the ship rose three floors, ringed by hand rails and – emblazoned proudly across the side of the building – the word restaurant in perfect serif.

"Food," Quinn moaned, drooling at the thought of it.

"A woman after my own heart," Gin agreed, stepping down the gangway and onto the small pier jutting out of the side of the restaurant. A marine shouted as they did, moving to stop them. Instead he fell flat on his face and skidded across the pier, knocked out by another well placed stunner by Quinn, whose lip curled in distaste at the sight of him.

"See why I warned you about them?"

"Buncha' pricks," she groused, one hand pressed against her gut. Christ, she was hungry. "Are all marines like this?"

"For the most part, yeah. Met one or two that were alright, but… they ain't the norm."

If her mouth weren't so damn dry Quinn would spit on the unconscious marine. Instead she huffed and drew her eyes away, walking with Gin up to the entrance. She almost collapsed at the smell of food, blessed, blessed food. Instead, Quinn pulled herself together and pushed open the doors, blinking at the sight of a waiter standing over the slumped form of Fullbody, the man bruised and beaten. Behind them rested a table, broken in half and covered in spoiled food and wine.

Quinn's legs chose that moment to give out, her sudden burst of energy disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared. She nearly fell on her face when Gin took a hold of her arm and hoisted her up, throwing one arm around her shoulder. With his help, they slowly shuffled towards an open table, past the gawking patrons of the restaurant and the staff that watched them with keen eyes. With what Quinn would have once thought to be uncharacteristic kindness, Gin pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit down, patting her once on the shoulder before he took his own seat, throwing one foot on top of the table.

"Whaddaya' lookin' at?" he barked, his voice thin with hunger but no less loud. Instantly, everyone in the Baratie snapped to attention. "Can we get some service 'round here or what?"

The whole Quinn/Gin thing is a bit of a mindfuck when writing.