It might not be such a bad idea if I never go home again

Chapter 4

Honestly, I don't even care if I die any more, god it has been a long old day. Time seemed to slow down as I looked at the night sky above me. I did what I was too scared to do my whole life, if I die now I'm gonna die happy. I saw a gull circling above, huh, bit late for a gull. A great big smile pulled onto my face. They look so peaceful up there in the sky. What happens, happens.

My back hit something solid, and I began to slide. What the fuck was going on. I started to roll as I collapsed over myself again and again, I looked beside me and seemed to be sliding down a large blue translucent ramp towards a rather angry looking young man. I slid into a heap at his feet, my head was spinning and slowly I sat up spitting out a mouth full of cold damp sand.

"I'm still alive after all, I got lucky," I said with a well meaning smile and my best attempt at a chuckle, it had been a long day "Thanks for the assistance mate."

"Ehhhh," the young man let out a long disgruntled sigh, "You are like a super old man, like nearly as old as Grampa."

"Yeah not as old as my Grandma though," The other man added to his partner.

I stood up and wiped myself down observing the two men Otto had organised to take me aboard their ship, both were wildly eccentric. One with green hair, who I assumed to be the grandson of Otto, wore only an open purple coat over his tattooed chest with a dagger tucked down the front of his waist. The other man was blond and wearing sunglasses despite it now being nighttime, he sported a pink vest and tiny shorts, and he was similarly tattooed, with nunchucks down his pants.

"You must be Otto's grandson, thanks for the help, names Algea," I said extending a hand.

The man turned away while picking his nose, completely ignoring my hand, "Whatever old man, name Bartolomeo, don't forget it, let's get a move on."

"Mines Gambia," the other man said with a smile shaking my hand in a strong grip.

I quickly fell into step with the other man as we approached a dingy on the sand and began moving it into the gently lapping water. My mind however was quickly connecting dots, could it be Otto's grandson was the mafia kingpin Bartolomeo? It seemed very likely as it was a peculiar name, that and the man had the attitude of a delinquent.

We waded into the cold breaking waves and got the dingy safely afloat, then climbed aboard. Bartolomeo sat at the back while Gambia and I rowed out. We made it to the ship in silence as Bartolomeo picked at his teeth while looking at the horizon. We all climbed aboard and set to sail away from Loguetown immediately, following the coast. I stood at the aft, resting on the railing, watching the twinkling lights of my birthplace, and home, slowly fade from view behind the headland. This was the first time I had left my homeland, I am leaving a wanted man and I knew I would likely never return. The wind was especially frigid at sea, and the smell and sound of sea spray provided little comfort in this moment.

"Ahoy, welcome aboard" a young man greeted me with a chuckle.

I turned and saw a young man sporting an eye patch, he looked to be about eighteen.

"So, most the crew is heading down to kip, Gambia sent me to come get you we have plenty of spare hammocks follow me."

—-

I woke up the next morning to the sound of shouting up on deck and a steady to and throw rocking of the boat in choppy water. I had slept like the dead, I barely remembered getting into the hammock and I certainly didn't waste any time falling asleep, I was fully dressed, my bag still on, and my gun stuffed painfully down the back of my pants. The only item I had managed to remove before passing out was my sword. I rolled out of the hammock and secured my weapons, taking in the room, it appeared I was the last one out of bed today. The room was a mess of hammocks attached with no real organisation and the floor was covered in rubbish and clothes, it smelt that specific smell which only exists when men live together, dank and musky, of old sweat and other bodily fluids. I made to move up on deck. Before anything I needed water, my mouth was as dry as an Alabastan summer, a joke my father used to make, as in Alabasta it is always summer.

I climbed up onto the deck, it was hectic, Gambia was talking on a transponder snail profusely apologising to someone, Bartolomeo was struggling to chew a piece of gum the size of a golf ball, and half the crew were running about shouting to each other. When I looked closely it seemed like one man would complete a task, like adjusting the sails, or moving the rudder then someone else would come along and change it back a few seconds later. I rubbed my face in exasperation, already feeling stress settling into my shoulders. I spotted a few men leaving the galley with food and quietly made my way inside. My feet catching on the chewing gum-covered deck as I went.

To call it a galley would be an insult to galley, it was essentially a long table, surrounded by stools covered in half-drunk bottles of wine and strewn randomly with ingredients to make sandwiches, most of which was now on the floor due to the choppy sea. I tiptoed around the ingredients and bottles on the floor to a barrel with a spigot, slotted into a bracket on the wall. I opened my bag and inspected the contents, good I still had the devil fruit I had acquired from Virgil's mansion, the money from Otto's house and the rest of my possessions. If these lads were pirates they are either very honourable or very crap at it, I grabbed my flask and filled it once, drank it completely and filled it again. Water had never tasted so good. I licked my lips and scanned the room, I helped myself to a crust of bread still on the table, over on a gimbaled stove top was a still bubbling enormous pot of coffee, it smelled strong and horrendously burned. I grabbed a mug off the floor and filled it up, it was filled with grounds and somehow that coffee was both the best and worst coffee I had ever had in my life. I lit up a cigarette and went to find Bartolomeo. I felt like I should be scared or angry thinking back on the events of yesterday, but I don't think I had ever felt so… free, in my whole life.

I made my way up to the helm, smoking as I went, the combination of fresh salty sea air and warm smoke paired fantastically. Both Bartolomeo and Gambia were attempting to navigate the vessel, though it seemed without great skill.

"Sail with the sun to starboard dummy, that way we are going west" Bartolomeo shouted at his first mate.

"No that's port, port is left" Gambia whined, looking severely browbeaten.

"Are you stupid, port is right it just sounds stronger, no way is starboard right" Bartolomeo was now gnashing his sharpened teeth at Gambia.

I interjected as delicately as I could "I know what you mean port does feel like right to me too, but Gambia is correct"

"Che," Bartolomeo sucked his teeth and spat a lump of chewing gum on the deck, "whatever I'm the captain so port is right."

Gambia looked at me sheepishly. Bartolomeo pulled out a rolled-up map from his jacket and studied it with a constipated look. Flipped it over. Then scratched his head.

"Perhaps I could help," I offered "My dad taught me a bit of navigation when I was younger."

Bartolomeo looked at me through squinted eyes with a surly look on his face, before begrudgingly handing me the map, I unfurled it and had a look.

"Where are we going?"

"We have a little job, need to drop off some stuff at Mungren Island, it should be a 4-day sail, uh, west from Loguetown," Gambia explained.

I scratched my beard and had a look, I found the island, and explained to the two of them the basics of sea travel, reading a compass and following the map. It's not a skill I was very good at but I reckoned I was miles better than the two of them. It is a skill all marines had drilled into them, and one of the few useful things my father taught me. They both soaked up the information, asking some questions as I explained it, after an hour or so, we reached a point where they both seemed comfortable following the compass, on track for our destination of Mungren Island, a place I had never heard of before.

"So what is this place and what are we delivering, is this to do with the mafia?" I asked hoping they wouldn't take offence at my curiosity.

"Honestly," Bartolomeo snorted "no idea where people got the idea I'm mafia, I just do what I want and don't pay attention to the rules like my idol."

The Gambia interjected, "Mungren is a trading island, you can get almost anything there, it's used by the pirates and marines, but is left alone by both partly due to its usefulness, and its powerful backing, it is run by a noble family which pay off the pirates and marines, and it's protected by the Krieg Pirates."

"As for our cargo, it's a graded sword, don't really see the hype, but we get 5'000 Beli for its safe transport to its buyer, so you can't complain," Bartolomeo informed me.

He seemed for the first time to possess the acumen befitting a man of his station and reputation, I believe my earlier assumption that he is the mafia boss Bartolomeo was correct although perhaps it was a title others pushed on him. He seemed to possess a useful devil fruit, that allowed him to make solid constructs of blue transparent matter, other than that I wasn't sure, and his crew seemed to respect him greatly for his drive and attitude.

"What about me?" I asked.

"What about you?" the punk sniffed with derision dripping from his voice, "I picked you up as a favour for my gramps, as far as I'm concerned I did my bit, I'll probably leave you at Mungren, 'cause we are off to the Grandline after and we don't need old men on board."

"I figured as much," I replied with a sigh and a grateful nod.

I couldn't fault him everything he said was fair, but it made me realise I had no plan or goal. I had a theory about the devil fruit I possessed, that it was in fact the same one wielded by Virgil Senior and perhaps I could make some headway into my theory at Mungren, but from there what do I want?

"Anything I can do to -"

CAW

The News Coo landed on my head and looked at the other two men, Gambia deposited some money and Bartolomeo snatched a copy of the paper, the bird summarily flapped its wing and flew away.

"EVERYONE!" shouted Bartolomeo, he was crying "News! he is on the front page Waaaaaah."

He balled, crying uncontrollably, and one by one the whole crew joined in, Gambia was on his knees sobbing, I looked around in disbelief, could these people be real, what the hell was on the paper? The only one not crying was the young man who guided me to the hammocks last night, although his reaction was subdued the news had obviously affected him too.

"Quickly to the room," Bartolomeo barely managed to choke out these words through a waterfall of tears.

He quickly ran towards what would normally be the captain's quarters on a Carrack like this, he was followed by a veritable stampede of wailing grown men, tripping over and holding onto one another as they piled into the room. I followed unsurely, feeling like an intrepid explorer about to witness the customs of an entirely undiscovered civilisation. I couldn't believe what I was looking at, it was almost funny. No, it was funny, but I couldn't laugh they all looked so serious. Bartolomeo was sitting on the floor cross-legged, and behind and around him was the rest of the crew sat in a similar fashion, all watching while Gambia, held sermon stood before a shrine to the Straw hat pirate crew.

Cough cough, Gambia cleared his throat and took a steadying breath.

And started crying again, followed by the rest of the crew.

"Waaah, I can't do it, it's too much" he balled falling to his knees and hugging Bartolomeo who held him tightly.

"Old man, you gotta do it," Bartolomeo managed to force out.

Gambia held his arm out to me, clutching the newspaper.

I wasn't feeling massive in my comfort zone doing this, but I don't know what about the last two days made me think I ever would be again, may as well embrace the weirdness with both arms. I grabbed the paper and saw what had them so emotional. I had been following the war the same as everyone else in the whole world. We couldn't watch it like in some places but I had read about it in the paper, 'The War of the Best' was what the World Economy News Paper (WENP) had called it.

"It has been only a few days since the War of the Best, before Marineford, the seat of power in the Grandline for the Marines, has seen the return of notorious pirate Monkey D. Luffy. Who made waves at the execution of his brother Fire-Fist Ace" I began reading the paper verbatim.

It was at the mention of the Whitebeard commander's brutal execution by the Admiral Akainu, that the men before me could handle it no more and began whaling like wounded seals. I took a moment to look at the shrine, it had the most recent bounties for the pirate crew that had continuously been making news over the past year. I like many others from Loguetown had been watching the crew closely after witnessing Luffy's dream in the same place the last king had been executed.

I remember it so clearly, I had just finished at work and hearing the commotion had followed along with the crowd to see what was happening. And there he was restrained by a mad clown, who was seconds from ending his life. I was crying, I remember that didn't make sense at the time, I hadn't cried in years, sober at least. And I was shouting too, like mad begging someone to help him. I couldn't bear to see such a life cut short.

And then he said it, and my knees went weak.

I looked at the men before me crying, I felt my face, a tear had just run down my cheek

"The cruel execution of his brother before his own eyes by the bastard dog of the marines Akainu" That felt better.

The men were nodding through their tears, some were cursing Akainu.

"Luffy returned to Marineford, to pay his respects to Whitebeard and his brother leaving flowers, and ringing the Ox bell to signify the end of the era of Whitebeard and the start of a new era, maybe we should call it the era of Strawhat."

"He is notably joined by two other infamous pirates, Warlord Jinbei 'First Son of the Sea', and even more incredibly, First mate of the Pirate King himself 'Dark King', Silvers Rayleigh"

Now that is a face I haven't seen in some time, I always collected his bounties. He may have been there when they executed Roger too, but I never saw him. It was pointless thinking about him, it had been so long that I barely remembered him from back then.

"Another point of interest is a message inscribed on Monkey D. Luffy's arm '3D' crossed out and '2Y'. Perhaps this is a message to his crew or allies." I looked at the men sitting before me, now giving me undivided attention, "Well that's basically the gist of it guys"

The group broke into excited chatter about what Luffy would do next, if Jinbei and Rayleigh had joined the crew, why nobody had heard from the other Strawhat crew members and other theories about a man they all idolised to a perhaps unhealthy degree. But who was I to judge I had clearly lost my mind over the past few days, and I only wish it had happened sooner, or maybe I am sane for the first time in my life.

I went to place the paper on the shrine for the crew when a piece of paper fell from the back onto the floor. I picked it up and turned it over, staring back at me was my own face. Somehow somebody had taken it of me as I left Gus' flat, I looked mysterious with a flat cap shadowing half my face, and written beneath it in bold letters were the words 'WANTED DEAD or ALIVE'.