Chapter 21

19th of February 1522
Thriller Bark, Main Castle, ?

Vivi's eyes fluttered open, heavy with the remnants of a deep, unsettling sleep. She found herself sprawled across a king-sized bed, the plush velvet comforter warm against her skin. Confusion muddled her thoughts. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was watching a brutal, terrifying fight. Then, darkness.

She sat up abruptly, her gaze darting around the room. "Mister 9?" she called out, but her voice seemed to vanish into the opulent silence. She was alone.

The bedroom around her was very luxurious, bathed in shades of crimson and gold. Heavy velvet drapes hung from high windows, made of a rich red fabric. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals catching the faint light and casting tiny rainbows across the room. The furniture was ornate, dark mahogany with intricate carvings. Heart pounding, Vivi scrambled off the bed and rushed to the door. It was closed, and when she tried the handle, it refused to budge. Panic rose in her chest. She spun around, her eyes landing on a gilded mirror on the opposite wall. She gasped at her reflection.

Gone was her Miss Wednesday outfit. Instead, she wore a luxurious babydoll, almost transparent, its delicate fabric clinging to her curves. Her skin had been scrubbed clean, and her long, blue hair fell in soft waves around her face. Her eyes, wide with fear, were a striking cerulean, framed by long lashes. Her lips were full and slightly parted in shock.

She felt exposed, vulnerable. She had to find a way out. She hurried to the nearest window and peered outside. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the view. She was in a tower, incredibly high, perhaps fifty stories above the ground. Below her stretched a vast, dense forest, its canopy a sea of green interspersed with patches of vibrant red roses. A beautifully manicured garden lay at the base of the tower, surrounding a grand courtyard. This was the largest castle she had ever seen.

Vivi stepped back, closing the window quickly as she thought she saw a gargoyle shift in the shadows. Her mind raced. What kind of place was this? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a lock clicking. She spun around, her heart in her throat, as the door creaked open. Not someone, but something entered. A maid, but not of flesh and blood. This maid was formed entirely of shadows. Vivi's skin prickled with fear. It looked like the shadowy creatures used by the Warlord Moria in the fight she remembered witnessing. Was she a captive? But why? Didn't they know she was an agent of Baroque Works?

The shadow maid moved silently, placing a basket of fruit and a bottle of wine on a small, ornate table. Vivi's voice trembled as she tried to ask questions, but the shadow maid offered no response. Instead, it retreated to the door, closing and locking it behind her.

20th of February 1522
Whiskey Peak

Igaram stood on the windswept cliffs of Whiskey Peak, his eyes scanning the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the rocky landscape. Yet, despite the tranquil beauty of the scene, his mind was far from peaceful. Worry gnawed at him. There had been no news of Vivi, and as her royal guard, even undercover as Mister 8, he couldn't quell the anxiety that churned within him.

A shout broke his reverie. One of his subordinates, a burly bounty hunter from Baroque Works, came running up to him. "Sir! A ship's been spotted approaching the harbor. Probably pirates. Looks like we've got some work to do."

Igaram coughed, clearing the lump that had formed in his throat. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady despite his internal turmoil. He had to trust Vivi. She was resourceful and capable. She would manage. Right now, his duty was here. He had to keep his cover. Adopting the guise of Igarappoi, the amiable mayor of Whiskey Peak, he made his way down to the harbor. The air was filled with the salty tang of the sea, and the bustling noise of the town preparing for the night. As he approached the docks, he saw the ship in question – a menacing vessel that had seen its share of battles.

The crew disembarked, and Igaram's eyes widened as he took in the strange group before him. Leading them was a man, handsome and pale, whom he did not recognize. Beside him stood Capone Bege, with his infamous 18 million bounty. Jackpot, Igaram thought grimly. A big fish indeed. Flanking Bege was a muscular woman, and on her back, another woman, very small and mousy, clung with surprising tenacity. Lastly, there was another woman with striking white hair, carrying herself with a regal air that made her look like a princess. It reminded him of Vivi, and he started worrying again.

"Maaa…Maaaa….Welcome to Whiskey Peak!" Igaram called out, his voice warm and welcoming. "I am Igarappoi, the mayor of this fine town. Please, join us for a celebration. We always honor our guests with a grand party."

The pale man, his handsome face inscrutable, exchanged glances with his companions. The white-haired woman nodded slightly, and Bege shrugged. "Alright, mayor. We'll take you up on your offer."

"Splendid!" Igaram exclaimed. "This way, please."

As they walked through the town, the locals began to gather, sensing the arrival of important guests. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the streets of Whiskey Peak came alive with music and laughter. Lanterns were lit, casting a warm glow over the festivities. The party began!

For hours, the party raged on. The streets of Whiskey Peak were filled with the sounds of raucous laughter, clinking glasses, and lively music played by a local band. The air was thick with the scents of roasted meat, spiced wine, and the faint tang of the sea. Igaram moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and ensuring the guests were well taken care of. All the while, his mind was working, assessing the pirates and their level of intoxication.

Igaram watched carefully as Capone Bege lounged in a large, cushioned chair, a cigar perched between his fingers. He puffed on it thoughtfully, his sharp eyes never straying far from his surroundings. Beside him, his muscular companion was downing tankards of ale with impressive speed. Her brawny arms flexed as she tore into a large leg of meat, occasionally breaking off smaller pieces to feed the mousy girl sitting by her side. The girl accepted the food with a timid smile, her eyes darting nervously around the bustling scene. The muscular woman frequently cast furtive glances toward the handsome, pale man, her eyes lingering on him with a curious intensity. The handsome man, whose name Igaram had yet to learn, seemed to be in high spirits. He laughed and joked, clinking glasses with the locals who were brave enough to approach him. Sitting on his laps was the white-haired woman laughing with him and feeding him grapes.

Igaram decided it was time. Capone Bege remained mostly aloof, his demeanor one of calculated amusement. His companion continued her feast, the mousy girl now curled up at her feet, looking content despite the occasional wary glance at the other guests. The handsome man and the white-haired woman seemed the most relaxed, their laughter and easy conversation suggesting they had let their guard down. He approached the pale-skinned man, a friendly smile plastered on his face. "I hope you're enjoying our hospitality," he said, raising a glass in salute.

The man looked up, his eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. "Ah, the mayor himself! Yes, we are. Your town knows how to throw a party, that's for sure. Congratulations, Igaram! It's a rare skill for a Captain of the Royal Guard"

"Excellent, excellent," Igaram replied, his tone warm and inviting. "It's always a pleasure to entertain such distinguished guests. May I join you for a drink?"

Then, he froze. What… What did the man say?

The man's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed unnaturally sharp in the dim light. Igaram felt a chill run down his spine. He glanced around nervously, hoping none of the other Baroque Works agents had heard.

"Don't worry," the man said. "Your secret is safe with us."

Igaram's heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The man turned to the white-haired woman on his lap. "Isabella," he said softly, "this is what you trained for." Her demeanor changed instantly, from relaxed and playful to something far more menacing. Her eyes, once merely striking, now seemed to glow with an eerie red light. Igaram found himself unable to look away. Her gaze was magnetic, pulling him in with an almost physical force. Those red, beautiful, mesmerizing eyes consumed his vision. He felt his will draining away, his thoughts dissolving into a fog.

He fell, his body slumping into the chair. The world around him blurred, and all he could see were her eyes, holding him captive. He was vaguely aware of her speaking, her voice a soft, hypnotic purr that wrapped around his mind like a velvet glove.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone sweet and compelling.

"I am... I am Igaram," he answered in a flat, monotonous voice, the truth spilling from his lips without resistance. "I'm undercover as Mister 8, working for Baroque Works. I'm the Captain of the Royal Guard of Alabasta. Recently, we discovered that Crocodile is the head of Baroque Works. He plans to overthrow the King."

The white-haired woman leaned closer, her breath cool against his skin. She gently caressed his cheek. "Tell me more about Crocodile's plans."

"He... He intends to take control of Alabasta," Igaram continued, his words coming slowly. "He's using Baroque Works to destabilize the kingdom. He wants to turn the people against the king."

Isabella's smile widened, her teeth gleaming in the dim light. "You've been very helpful, Igaram."

She withdrew her gaze, and suddenly, the fog lifted. Igaram blinked, his mind slowly clearing. Realization and horror washed over him. He had revealed everything. He had betrayed Vivi, his mission, and his kingdom. Igaram tried to stand, but his legs felt weak. He could only sit there, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. His cover was blown, and now he was at the mercy of these pirates. He had to find a way to warn Vivi, to salvage what he could of their plans. But as he looked into Isabella's eyes again…What…What did he talk about, again?

He looked at the pale-skinned man, a friendly smile plastered on his face. "I hope you're enjoying our hospitality," Igaram said, raising a glass in salute. The man smiled at him, and he raised his drink too.

20th of February 1522
Whiskey Peak

Mister 5 and Miss Valentine stood in the shadows, their eyes fixed on the distant festivities. The flickering lantern light cast a warm glow over the Baroque Works agents, highlighting their fake joyous faces and animated gestures. Amidst the laughter and music, the traitor Igaram mingled, blissfully unaware that he had been found out.

Mister 5 grumbled under his breath. "Two days we've been waiting for Miss Wednesday. What the hell is that traitor doing?"

Miss Valentine hivered slightly, more from the cold than the tension. Suddenly, a low, menacing voice sounded behind them.

"You fuckers... I was already fucking angry because of that slut Isabella... And you dare spy on us, huh?"

They turned swiftly, dread creeping up their spines. Before them stood a towering, muscular woman with a shock of fiery red hair. Her eyes blazed with fury, and before Mister 5 could react, her fist connected with his head with a sickening crunch. The explosion was not the familiar detonation of his powers, but the gruesome burst of flesh and bone. Mister 5 crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Miss Valentine felt a warm, wet sensation spreading down her legs. She had pissed herself. The sight of her partner's swift, brutal demise shattered her composure. One hit. Dead in one hit. And he was a lot stronger than her.