Sidestory — Decks of the World EX: Pt. 1

7 Days to the War: Kuraigana Island

Zoro took in the sight before him with a set jaw and narrowed eyes, fingers flexing and unflexing around the hilt of Wado Ichimonji at his waist.

Of the three confidants of the 'original' crew, the first mate was the only one who hadn't asked Cross for details on his training ground, nor had Cross prompted him to read the letter ahead of time. Their reasoning for that was the same: he was obviously going to be training his swordsmanship, and knowing the exact method ahead of time didn't exactly help much.

And now that he had read Cross's letter, the part of his mind that wasn't raring for battle against the monkeys before him, or trembling in dread and excitement from knowing he'd soon meet his life's goal once more, was undergoing something of a bluescreen.

Cross may not have seen this coming, but he should have seen this coming!

Humandrills imitated the behavior of the humans that they observed. And which humans had they been observing for almost a year through the SBS? Via snails that Mihawk had undoubtedly set up for easy access on purpose, no less.

Seeing the Humandrills run around mimicking his friends left Zoro confused and nostalgic in equal measure.

'On the one hand,' Zoro mused to himself as he watched two humandrills try and beat each other stupid with three rusted swords apiece, showing surprising skill in the process. The prospects for a good sparring partner or three were looking up.

"OOK!" CRASH!

'On the other,' he grimaced as a nearby ruined building collapsed into rubble, a particularly bulky-looking monkey jumping out of it with a pipe in his hands. That demonstrated that even more of the primates were going to be several things: very stupid, very strong, and very painful to fight.

So overall, quite the mixed bag of a week ahead of him, let alone two years.

"May as well get started," he muttered, drawing his blade. "Alright, who's first?"

-o-

6 Days to the War: Weatheria

"Ah, young miss, once more, I really do advise against this. This entire endeavor appears… unwise to me," an old man in blue robes pleaded, jogging slightly to keep up with the woman and her odd companion.

"Yeah, well, if you know anything about me or my crew, you know that 'unwise' isn't much of a deterrent. In fact, it just encourages us. Right, Billy?"

"Qua!"

"…I'm going to spend two years trying to speak to a peacock-duck out of habit. I both miss Soundbite, and want to throttle him."

"Qua-quaaack…"

"Hugh…" Nami shook her head. The first day had gone relatively smoothly; Weatheria didn't have any Transponder Snails, so she'd had to introduce herself the hard way. But a brief demonstration of her staff, her knowledge, and a well-spun tale about how she'd heard tell of the scientists of Weatheria and wanted to spend a couple of years studying with competent meteorologists had earned their respect. And puffed up more than a few egos. That last wasn't even a lie, not by her standards.

Now, however, she was looking for the fastest track to improving herself, which was why they were currently heading for the most isolated laboratory on the island. And while Haredas had immediately recognized it was futile to deny her the information, he had spent the whole way there trying to talk her out of it.

"Anyway, what's the big deal? I just want to meet your extreme weather specialists, see if they have any research I can use. You already have lots of unique technology, how are they different?"

"Well, technically speaking, not very," Haredas harrumphed reluctantly. "They have the same technology, same research, same everything! It's just that these particular individuals… w-well, we asked that they sequester themselves because—!" He paused to scratch at his beard before sighing with the exhaustion of experience. "Look, they're nice people, I'll happily call them my colleagues, even friends! But, as I've stated many a time, they research extreme weather conditions, and that research can—!"

"QUAAA!" Billy squawked in panic, suddenly juking a few feet to the left. Nami's iron cloud snatched Haredas off of the path as she leapt to follow her mount—

BOOM!

—right as one of the walls on the building they were approaching exploded and a turbine blade flew by them, slicing through where they had been standing and burying itself in the ground several yards back.

"…tend to… reflect that…" Haredas weakly finished before slumping into a heap on the ground. "Oh, dear, now we'll have to deal with their demands in the quarterly budget meeting for more repair money…"

He paused, sitting up and blinking at the odd noise that filled his ears.

"Ohh, I think I can help you with that."

And it was at this moment that Haredas realized that the real danger of the woman before him was not her staff or her steed. People's eyes didn't normally work like that, and the human throat wasn't usually capable of perfectly imitating a cash register.

"Just, you know, out of curiosity," Nami purred, her still-transmogrified eyes still latched onto the dislodged turbine blade. "Exactly how attached to their research do you think they are? And how eager do you think they'd be for an intern?"

Oh, yes. Very dangerous indeed. Haredas briefly wondered if it wasn't too late to get her off this island, before concluding that yes. It was very too late.

-o-

6 Days to the War: Boin Archipelago

"C'mere big guy, c'mere!"

With only the slightest trembling in his knees, Usopp crept closer to the iguana he'd set his sights on, which outweighed him a good ten times over and was watching him with a hint of lazy caution—a laziness undoubtedly encouraged by the balloonatic proportions of its belly.

"Come on, you want the delicious meat-fruit?" the sniper prodded, proferring a literally fleshy fruit to the mega-sized lizard. "I know you do, because it's from the higher treetops where you can't climb anymore! Come on, come on!"

It maintained its stare for a few moments as Usopp came into chomping distance, waving the fruit under its nostrils. Slowly, the reptile stirred itself to action and leaned its head forwards, its long tongue snaking out of its mouth to wrap around the fruit.

"Just a little bit more, you can have it. Yeah, that's it, that's—!" Usopp stiffened as the tongue started to go a good bit beyond the fruit and around his arm. "N-No, wait that's a bit much, that's a bit aaaand now you're trying to eat my arm—OH, CRAP!" Usopp yanked his arm back and out of his would-be friend's maw, drawing his Kabuto in the same motion. "EXPLODING STAR!"

KABOOM!

"GROOOOOGH!" the mega-iguana howled in anguish. It belched out flames, then hacking, smoking coughs, before shaking its head and loosing an indignant roar. Indignant and futile; Usopp had beat feet away from his target before the star even hit.

"WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO BE SO MUCH HARDER WITHOUT SOUNDBITE, NOW I ACTUALLY MISS THAT PEST!" Usopp complained, if only for his own sake.

"USOPPUN!" shouted the armored man safely ensconced in an overwatch position in a nearby tree. "I still say that this is foolhardy, but if you insist on trying, don't use food as a peace offeringun! They'll just keep eatingun! And, my name is—!"

"Master Heraclesun," Usopp interrupted as he finished shimmying up to the point where he was about equal with his guide and teacher. "Are there any animals here that don't think exclusively with their stomachs, then!? Because I'll be honest, without a fastpass around the language barrier, offering them food is the best option I've got here!"

The armored man brought a hand to his chin, dispelling the blue haze of depression that had sprung up after his introduction was interrupted. "Hrrrmm… no beasts spring to mindun. Would need to be something high-flying or burrowing, so that they're not constantly tempted by the vegetationun…"

He nodded definitively, a sense of certainty about him. "Bugsun. I've had some luck with the beetlesun; insects tend to be easier to wrangleun. But that's partly because most of them aren't very smartun."

Usopp stiffened in place, slowly spinning on his vine to stare at the beetle-looking person. Just as slowly he nodded. "Yes. Yes, we will go with that. Take me to the bugs. The stupidest you can find."

"Er… they're not all—?"

"Nono, I want them dumb as rocks. There is irony in effect here, and I intend to exploit it."

"…Usoppun, you're starting to scare meun."

"JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED!"

"Alright, scratch 'starting'un."

-o-

5 Days to the War: Kamabakka Kingdom

"Laced with hormones?" Sanji repeated, glancing away from the close-to-boiling pot. "How do you duplicate that without the Devil Fruit? And without making it unhygienic?" he added with a hint of warning.

"Excellent question," answered the nearby okama, Cecilia by name, one hand profusely applying burn ointment to 'her' face while the other rifled through a spice cupboard. "It's a combination of specifically selected ingredients and just the right balance of chemistry. Like tryptophan induces drowsiness and chocolate generates endorphins, you know how it is."

'She' 'winked' at him, and he suppressed a shudder.

"We did need Queen Ivankov's hormones to make it work at first, of course. But we only needed a little trial and error to find the right recipe to duplicate it and keep it delicious. All-natural, of course."

Rejoining him at the stove, Cecilia smiled in understanding. "I know and respect your ability to take every part of every ingredient and make it delicious, wasting nothing. It's a mark of your skill and integrity as a chef. But what you'll need to keep in mind, Sanji-boy, is that our Attack Cuisine recipes command and demand perfection. That's the difference between an average, ordinary world-class dish, and a world-class dish that invigorates every fiber of your being so that it's prepared for the sorts of battles one might find in the New World. And we have only achieved perfection by using the choicest parts of our ingredients."

The smile turned to a challenging smirk. "Of course, if you actually manage to beat the other 98, we may just have to see if you can outdo us there."

That provoked an honest smirk from Sanji. "Oh, I'll keep that in mind. I'll need to take notes on this. But for now?"

"Yes, for now, let's continue your lessons. And I believe I'll weave a little something extra in for you."

Sanji froze, slowly eyeing the okama, whose smile had adopted a distinctly malicious undertone.

"It would benefit you to practice cooking in extreme temperatures, after all."

"…why do I get the feeling you don't mean a dozen ovens on at once?" the blond cook asked uncomfortably.

With a disturbing giggle, girlish and psychotic in equal measure, Cecilia walked over to the opposite wall and cranked a knob on the wall as far to the right as it would go. With a rattle and a roar of machinery, the vents in the wall began spewing fire.

"Now, you'll need to handle those spices very carefully, Sanji-boy. Uncontrolled powder in this heat is prone to…" the okama smirked viciously as she withdrew a match and held it aloft… where it instantly came alight. "Explosive reactions. Don't expect any leniency in this kitchen! You're lucky that I'm parting with the recipe to begin with; if you want the full package without the proper training, you had better show that you don't need it. Hope you don't mind going without eyebrows for a few weeks, friend!"

Sanji took that in, took in the flames and the makeshift grenades now before him. Then, for the first time since reading Cross's letter, he grinned with honest glee.

"Now see, this is what I expected for my two years!"

-o-

6 Days to the War: Torino Kingdom

"Chopper's log, day 1, entry 5. Situation remains… tenuous, at best. Have attempted once again to make overtures of peace to the Torino people, on behalf of the Mega-Avians. But thus far results remain… less than promising. The indigenous people still regard me with suspicion, both due to my abnormal form and the fact that I initially attempted to make contact with them while riding one of the Mega-Avians. In retrospect, a poorly considered course of action. Resources remain adequate, but tempers are running high, and unless I make some kind of progress, I believe I might be very liable to dissect the nearest feather-brain I can get my hooves on!"

"WARK!?"

"YES, YOU! YOU TRIED TO EAT ME WHEN I SAID HELLO, DAMN IT!"

"WaAaAaaaa…"

-o-

7 Days to the War: Tequila Wolf

"Let me tell you what I have experienced."

The soldiers were well-trained, well-equipped, and pulled from veteran formations the world over. But even at their best, they would never have been able to stop the symphony of suffering visited upon them.

Firing lines and gun crews were met with hands sprouting from the ground that tripped soldiers, often originating from their own bayonets. With long range not an option, the next wave rushed into melee range as fast as their legs could take them, attempting to skewer the escaped prisoner that was giving them so much trouble.

"Twenty years evading the world itself with all of the ruthlessness that I needed to preserve my life."

Every attempt was elegantly evaded, Nico Robin simply spinning or swaying or just simply stepping out of the way of sword slashes and spear and bayonet thrusts. More discreet hands pulled men into the melee, ruining strikes or bringing them into a carelessly wielded weapon. The lone butterfly knife she wielded was an instrument, unerringly meeting eyes or throat or wrist or hamstring.

"Four years serving as vice-president of a Blues-spanning criminal enterprise and making myself untouchable to even the sadistic Warlord who was my partner."

The men didn't even realize that they had been drawn into her rhythm, that their every move was made at her beck and call. Months and years of guarding slaves shattered by lack of food and overwork, of being well-armed bullies, had ground down their instincts and coordination.

"Nine months with a crew that shattered all limits of the reality I had built for myself."

None thought to reform a firing line and fire at her, damn the casualties. None thought to alert other construction sectors, not that reinforcements would've come in time to do any good.

"And one day… the final day, of the biggest slave market outside of the New World."

But for all that, the one thing you could say about these men was that they didn't falter, did not break, and did not stop coming.

"So, tell me. What makes you think that a camp of common soldiers—a term I use ever so loosely—will be able to stop me?"

Robin leaned back from an overhead sword swing, a discreet hand overbalancing the wielder entirely and sending him sprawling into a ragged spear squad with a disgusting squelch. Spinning, she slashed out the throat of a guard coming up behind her while also tripping up the man next to him.

Straightening, she found herself alone, surrounded by groaning or bleeding bodies, and then a tight ring of steel. To all appearances she was trapped.

Robin smiled. "How kind of you to all line up for me." She crossed her arms.

And every man went sprawling thanks to a hand pushing their knees.

"Cien Fleur… Thistle."

An expert toss of her knife landed in the body of one target, the wound not immediately lethal but most certainly immediately debilitating. Instantly, an arm on the adjacent body withdrew the knife and stabbed it into the next body, and the chain continued across the entire circle. The end of the line had barely gotten to their feet before the stabs sent them back to the snow-covered ground.

A final arm tossed the knife back at her, and she caught it and spun it closed in one motion.

"…well, that was fun. Now, where is that communications center?" she asked, tilting her head with a serene smile.

A chorus of agonized groans was her only answer.

Robin's smile immediately dropped into an embarrassed grimace. "And… I appear to have overdone it. Damn. Ah, well, I might as well get the run of the place myself. I do all but own it now, after all."

Turning on her heel and heedless of the cold weather, the stirring slaves, and above all the carnage she was leaving behind, she sauntered off in plain view, humming a certain tune to herself.

-o-

6 Days to the War: Baldimore

A certain manner of decorum and courtesy was expected when meeting with the native governing body of… well, pretty much anywhere. You gave notice, you set an appointment, and you came with an airtight pitch so you didn't waste anyone's time.

Or, alternatively, you had something that they needed to hear immediately and gathered them together ASAP with none of the usual pomp and circumstance. Or tried to, because they had way too much experience with geniuses with exaggerated delusions of their own magnificence. It was one out of two dozen panicked meetings, generously, that was worth listening to rather than making them revisit the idea of installing a crocodile pit.

If this all seemed very specific, it was the exact situation the government of the Winter Island Baldimore had dealt with more times than they'd ever wanted. And the same attitude any newcomer had to fight an uphill battle against.

"You're very bold to do this, you know."

Faced with the governors of the island, the most recent of the geniuses who had enough clout and skill to draw interest? Franky only had one response: to shamelessly grin his signature grin.

"Ya mean me coming to you guys when my mug's plastered all over the world with a heck of a price on my head?" the cyborg questioned, proudly running a hand through his equally signature pompadour. "Or me volunteering my services to finish the prototypes left behind by the 'world's greatest genius', if you'll pardon the sarcastic air quotes."

"Pardoned, it's what happens when proud men of science speak of our dear Vegapunk, and yes, those two facts do contribute, but… really, it's the lack of pants." One of the governors gestured to the blizzard conditions, clearly visible outside of the refurbished hunting lodge commandeered as a temporary town hall.

"Eh, I'm doing fine. I'm wearing a thermal speedo!"

"… That explains absolutely nothing."

Franky missed half a beat as a shiver ran up and down his body. "Yeah, it really helps that I'm doing my best not to think about the temperature."

The governor's already neutral expression flattened out to a deadpan. "That simultaneously explains more and less."

"Let's just move on from our guest's state of dress and focus on his skills," another governor coughed. "Mister Franky, why should we entrust one of our greatest citizens' greatest unfinished works to your expertise? I warn you, other engineers have attempted to finish it. It's rarely ended well, least of all for them."

"Oh, don't you worry, I know plenty about that," the cyborg responded, his smirk returning to its prior confidence. "But see, here's where I have a few advantages: First, I grew up under—and learned from—the SUPER! best. Easily Vegapunk's equal."

Another governor let out a placating hum. "Many intellectuals hold such opinions, oftentimes of themselves, but nevertheless—!"

"Tom of Tom's Workers, inventor of the Sea Train, and creator of the Oro Jackson," Franky declared, his grin quite proud at this point.

The governors all shared a look, and seemed to come to some sort of agreement. "Point conceded, do proceed."

"Heh, thought so. Anyway, as for my second advantage?" Franky chuckled as he detached his right forearm and flashed the chain keeping the limb attached. "I doubt any of those others you mentioned have dealt with something like using scrap metal to turn a dying body into a living weapon… while bleeding out and without any anesthetic for the surgery or the trauma that led up to it." He reattached his fist and pounded his chest with it. "So there you have it: I've got the focus, I've got the tenacity, and I've definitely got the ambition."

"Ruff!"

"Oh, right," Franky pointed down at the robo-mutt who was sitting contentedly at his side, tail and turret-barrel both wagging happily. "I also managed to uncross this pooch's wires after he tried to blow my head off. That count too? Because I think it SUPER! counts."

The elders exchanged considering looks again, which was a step up from their initial stance of "We're going to need a bigger coffin for this one."

"…we will give you a chance," the leader of the bunch declared. "Though do note that an extended period of cooperation will require more evidence of your prowess."

"No problems there," Franky sighed in relief, wiping a paradoxical sheen of sweat from his forehead. "And man, am I glad you guys are agreeable. If you'd tried to drive for a bargain, I'd, ah… have had to resort to drastic measures."

One of the governors narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "When you say 'drastic'...?"

Franky flailed his arms in denial. "Gah, nonono, nothing violent, hell no! Just, uh…"

One hand clapped down on the pocket in his shirt where Merry's coin purse was, filled with ice and bottles. One of which was filled with an orange liquid.

"Let's just say that tangerine juice tends to be… unpleasant for my system," Franky hedged with an uncomfortable chuckle which swiftly devolved into a grimace. "For all parties involved, urgh…"

"Mm… so be it. In the meantime, might we offer you a coat?"

"That would be SUPER! appreciated!"

"We're also going to have to do something about those outbursts of yours…"

"Now see, that's going to be a challenge!"

-o-

5 Days to the War: Namakura Kingdom

Considering the kind of people he'd spent his new life with, Brook had been hoping… not really believing, but hoping that Cross had been wrong, or at least exaggerating, about the state of the people he had landed amongst. But no. He had known despair for 50 years, but only now did he truly understand the visage of hopelessness. After all, in the face of the sheer gutlessness of the cultists he was saddled with, he was presently wearing it!

The utter lack of any semblance of spine among these people almost enough to put him off wanting to see the women's underwear. And the way the men kept flashing him instead did wonders to finish the job.

He had spent two days trying to help them; if he knew less, he'd have given them a full week. As it was, half his attention went to an inspirational song. The other half… readying a preliminary contract. He had much care to take if he was going to succeed in his training.

But he'd finish his work and leave them to help themselves if they could.

"You have answered our prayers when none had previously—"

"And, hypothetically speaking, were I to turn on you, what would you do? Just to assist with my plan for ridding you of them."

"Ah… well, we could always try for another god?"

The likelihood of that particular outcome was becoming a bigger and bigger 'if' with every moment that passed as his thoughts kept circling back to the same point: he knew what it was to be powerless, he had experienced it firsthand for 50 years. Hopes and prayers had been his only recourse. Before him now, however, with Cross's explanation giving him context… well, frankly, this was an entirely different breed of hopelessness. One that left him dearly desiring to bash his skull against the nearest wall, a desire he had no choice but to suppress, lest his 'worshipers' leap to yet another conclusion regarding how to 'appease' him.

Still, as annoying as the situation was, at least the prospect of moving onto bigger and better things served to soothe Brook's irritation. It didn't ease the worries he for his fellow crewmates, his captain most of all, though. Shaking his skull slightly, he resumed his work until an unpleasant feeling came to his nonexistent gut.

"Hmm… do you have any snacks?" he asked.

"HE DEMANDS FOOD! PREPARE A FEAST!" the nearest cultist proclaimed.

Brook couldn't tell if the SNAP! that rang out was from the pen he'd been using to write, his phalanges, or his jaw setting with intense irritation. But he did know one thing for certain.

"I cannot get away from these loons soon enough…"

-o-

6 Days to the War: Alabasta

It was all that Vivi could do to keep from rattling the face of the clock tower with her powers, which would've alerted anyone nearby to her presence within. And considering how she was trying her damndest to stay incognito, any form of attention was the last thing she wanted.

Unfortunately for Vivi, however, her frazzled mind had yet to properly process that particular memo, and so she was left trying to wrangle her aerokinesis to acceptable levels. She was pacing the full length back and forth to try to calm herself… but her train of thought meant that she wasn't having much in the way of 'success'.

"Arggghhh, what do I do, what do I do…" Vivi groaned. "If I stay, I'm home and I get to be with Daddy and Chaka and Pell and I will be home… b-but then I'm abandoning the crew, no matter what Luffy or Cross says… but if I leave I'm leaving again only this time I'm making the choice and I really will be a horrible and selfish princess and grarrrrrr…"

Her mutterings devolved into total insensibility, and she went back to pacing in silence for a few minutes.

"Come on, come on, think," she murmured again. "Luffy wants me to stay, but wants me to be happy more, so I can stay here with no guilt… but Daddy would want me to stay but wants me to be happy more, too, so I can go back with no guilt…" she loosed a miserable groan as she clawed her hands down her face. "Except of course there would be guilt because then I'd be being a horrible daughter and princess and friend and oh Osiris what do I doooo…"

Carue watched back and forth as the mumbling continued, Vivi arguing herself in circles with every point she tried to make. And on any other day, the avian bodyguard would have been content to let her continue pacing until she wore herself out enough to actually think properly.

But unfortunately, the twister the princess was starting to churn up was a bit of a problem if they wanted to remain incognito.

"QUACK!"

Vivi practically jumped out of her skin at the loud squawk. Then, before her shock could finish manifesting in a localized sandstorm, the duck swept her up in a feathery hug, holding her close as he quacked and rubbed her back comfortingly.

Vivi stood there for a few seconds, paralyzed. And when she could move again, the tension left her body and she buried her face into Carue's shoulder, sobbing.

"C-Carue…" she wept. "I… I don't know w-what to do…"

The duck thought about the inkpots they'd had the foresight to load on his saddle. If this continued for much longer, he could spell out her next course of action for her. But right now, after being given a gift that was almost as much a curse as a blessing, she needed to get her head together first. They could wait until the shock had passed to take the next step.

-o-

6 Days to the War: Eden's Cinders

Her first day's work had been refortifying an abandoned bunker she had found to serve as a temporary homebase. With somewhere to fall back to, she emerged again to decide on a plan of action. She circled around the outskirts of the battlefield, remaining out of sight—

"Hey, so, I've been thinking…"

"You shouldn't, you're bad at it."

"C'mon, you must've thought this one too: why are we fighting this war?"

—which allowed her to hear that question from an acutely disinterested voice.

"Hmm?"

She settled against a ruined wall to eavesdrop, her lips turning downward at the annoyance in the second speaker's grunt.

"I mean, what's the point? Look at this place! What's worth fighting over here? No buildings left, no crops left, not even any good soil left. I don't know who half the armies belong to. We're not even taking the people. So what is it? Why are we fighting?"

"…To win the war."

The answer had no emotion behind it. No resolve, no resignation, no passion one way or the other.

"Meh, works for me. Only thing left, I guess."

The two rose to their feet one after the other and marched back into the fray. Behind them, Conis emerged and looked after them with a scowl.

"Not even Usopp could respect this," Conis swore under her breath. "Honestly, I know mankind of falling to depraved depths, but is something like this even naturally possible!?"

"Su, su!" Su piped up, drawing her friend's attention before scratching out a pair of crossed lines in the dirt, drawing circles around the middle and points, and tapping it fiercely.

It took Conis all of two seconds to piece together what was intended, and once she did she slapped her face with a growl. "That does seem the most likely reasoning, though that still only serves to shift the blame."

To that, the Cloud Fox could only offer a shrug. Conis sighed and shook her head.

"I need to understand what I'm doing here, first of all… I may need more battle experience, but the last thing that I need is to be embroiled in another pointless war without any visible end. Not without a plan to end it, and I don't have one." She pinched the bridge of her nose with a tired groan, the sheer exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours hitting her like a sledgehammer.

"Alright, let's look at it in another way," she said, speaking more to herself than Su at this point as she continued pacing around. "I don't have any place in this war, I don't know what the fight is about, I just want to…" And slowly, the image of her captain came to mind. She found joy in the answer, replaced shortly by more confusion.

"So, this is another case of an outsider helping to end the pain on both sides, make them share what they gathered here for… Luffy took out the root of the problem, Eneru, but there's no tyrant ruling this…" Her hand cupped her chin. "Or maybe there is, if Government agents are still behind the war…"

Conis's pacing only intensified. "UGH, even if I am supposed to end this war, I can't do it alone…"

Su felt the urge to pipe up in protest as Conis continued rambling… but the echo of the situation was far crueler for her. She'd had more power in Skypiea with her voice. Now, when Conis needed her most, she was back to her default state: a comforting but ultimately impotent presence. Oh, sure, she was leagues stronger than she had been, but not enough to sway an entire war herself, and that did jack all to help conquer her inner demons.

Here Su was, a million miles from home… and yet she'd never more felt like she hadn't moved an inch from where she'd begun.

[UGH, why couldn't I have found the Children before we split up!?] she ranted to herself, shaking her head in disgust as she plodded around the ruins. [But no, I just had to be dropped into this as I am. And for what?]

Looking down, she brushed her paw to and fro against the ground.

[Hard to believe something so abundant could cause such a war… both times,] she remarked somberly, staring up at the colossal tree. [No easy way to convince them that they could all get their share of Adam's wood if they just went about it the honest way.]

She stood there for a moment before sagging against a half-buried statue. [Man, I am really in the dumps if I can't even laugh at that… Soundbite has been a terrible influence in some… ways…]

Su slowly trailed off, her head rising as her ears perked up and her tail started waving. [Wait… wait! Adam! T-There's no way, it couldn't possibly be—!]

She scampered a short distance away, tilted her head up, emptied her lungs, and sniffed the air deeply. She took in every scent, filtering through the endless scents of blood and steel and rot and ash and all the other unpleasantries of war. She sniffed carefully, smelling not for sulfur or gunpowder, but the island itself. Everything that was natural. She pushed her nose hard to smell it…

And then she smelled it. She smelled it, and she knew.

Su's head snapped up, her smile stretching from ear to ear and her tail wagging up into a blur.

[T-This is it… this is actually it! This is what I've been looking for!]

-o-

Davy Jones's Locker

Many a sound had echoed through the naval resting place over the untold centuries that it had existed. The wet snap of rotting timbers, the soggy tearing of disintegrating sails, even the sonorous detonations of miraculously dried gunpowder blowing a ship's hull asunder.

All sounds that one would expect in a ship's graveyard. However, the crinkling sound of a paper bag inflating and deflating? Much less expected. Wet, damp air is about the worst environment for preserving paper.

Merry breathed her own breath again and again as rapidly as her lungs could fill and empty. It just wasn't even close to fair; she barely managed to accept the departure without breaking down in panic, now she was living out her worst nightmare alone!? Did Kuma even want them to come back sane? Or alive?!

She just wanted her crew! Just wanted her friends, wanted her family, wanted to go home—!

"Groooo…"

Merry instantly froze, sitting stock-still as she stared out of the Locker's bubble and into the massive glowing eye that was staring straight at her. It was only once the eye slid shut again that Merry let herself relax, both from her immediate mortal terror and from a portion of her existential despair, the bag going from panic aid to snack in two seconds flat.

"Alright… new priorities…" she mumbled to herself. "First, find somewhere I'm not in immediate danger of being eaten. Then, finish the existential crisis, plot violent and gory end of all bear-cyborgs everywhere, and then start working on getting stronger, all in that order."

Swallowing the last scraps of the bag, she stumbled up to her feet, withdrawing her old crutch from her coat and using it to support her trembling legs as she carefully hobbled away from the coral and into—she shuddered—into the graveyard.

As she trudged through the sand, every creak of wood around her made her shiver. She could speak their language, knew that the dead ships around her had once been far more alive, but her kinship with the lost vessels was a cold comfort. Worse than cold, even. No voices met her senses, which all but screamed that the vessels had no spirit left. Nothing but lifeless wood and metal—

"…" BOOM!

—right, and gunpowder, Merry blearily revised as the world stopped spinning from the blast that had gone off almost directly behind her. The shockwave had bounced her head and… well, most everything else about her off a warship's rusty but sturdy iron prow. Groaning, she worked her way to her feet—

"…s—ss…" CrrrreeeeEEEAK!

Then a whisper reached her ears, followed shortly by a sound she knew by heart. She ducked and avoided a pulley that swung right over her head and cratered the metal where her head had been seconds earlier. Now outright scrambling to her feet, she cupped her ears.

"…res—sser…"

Merry shook in discomfort from the tone, but that was all she could glean. "I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!" she yelled.

CLANG!

The tremor from the anchor landing in front of her left her spitting out sand and debating the merits of even bothering to get back up again. But now she could hear… for all that she dearly wished she couldn't.

"Trespasser…"

"Get… out…"

"Leave… us… alone…"

The susurrus circled around her on all sides, the actual physical chorus of screaming wood and steel starting to shake the air and sand around her. Delving deeper and deeper into her panic, Merry curled into a ball, burying her head between her legs in literal mortal terror. Was this what she had been reduced to?! Rejected by the ocean, abandoned by her crew, rejected by her kin? Unwelcome, even at the final destination?! What was she supposed to do if they were rejecting her mere existence!? She couldn't… she couldn't—!

"Trespasser…"

"Intruder…"

"Pillager…"

Merry's panic froze then and there, that last word catching her attention. Slowly, she raised her head, staring out into the howling corpses in confusion. "What…?"

"Let… us… rest…"

"Begone… thief…"

"No… more…"

As she pieced together what they were saying, a wave of comprehension flowed throughout Merry. Followed in short order by a surge of horror… which, in turn, was overshadowed by a final, singular emotion.

"You… shall not… harm any—"

"No," Merry grit out, staggering to her feet one last time.

"...?"

"I. Said. NO!" Merry howled, slamming her foot down and blasting up a plume of sand.

Any traces of hesitation, of fear or doubt, were overwhelmingly devoured by the all-engulfing inferno of righteous outrage she now felt.

Silence returned. But it was an entirely different sort than before, the kind that came from everyone in the vicinity waiting for you to speak. Her legs still trembled as she panted and wheezed, the surge of emotions leaving her shaken, but her voice and face were set, and her will even more so.

"Yes," she declared, sweeping her gaze out over the graveyard. "I can hear you. And you can hear me. And you can hear me because I am one of you. My life as a ship has ended, but my voyage has not. Though I no longer sail on the water, I sail on nevertheless! I still remember it all! The creak of timbers, the clashes of waves. I remember because I was, and still am, one of you! And as much as I dearly wished to never see this place…" An involuntary shudder ran through Merry's frame, but her hand snapped into a trembling fist as she routed that emotion right back around into fury. "That does not change the fact that I belong here, just as much as any of you! That I am one of the few, the only entities allowed on these hallowed grounds, bar none! And if anyone else… has dared to desecrate these lands?"

She whipped out her precious Gatling cannon from her coat and jabbed its barrel in the air.

"Then I will make sure that the next time they try it is their last! I am Going Merry, vessel and helmsgirl of the Straw Hat Pirates, and don't a single one of you forget it!"

-o-

6 Days to the War: Sabaody Archipelago

The Dugongs had the full run of the ship that they were tasked with guarding. For two years, while everyone else was away training, they would remain with their new home. And defend it with their lives.

Boss fully comprehended the situation; it had sunken in within hours of his awakening. His disciples had yet to, too busy adopting the necessary tasks while everyone else was away: Donny had taken over Chopper's office, Mikey had commandeered the kitchen, and Raphey and Leo tended the armory. And all four took turns tending to the snails and the aquarium.

Their current state was peace, highlighted by the sight of Boss Dugong resting atop the pavilion, staring solemnly to the northwest. The Red Line was out of sight, as was the subject of his thoughts beyond it. But he knew… he knew that he was looking at everything he had worked for.

[It'll have been forty-seven years since you left when I come to meet you again, Sifu. I will make you proud.]

[Yeah, and we're real happy for you, Boss. But, see, here's the thing…]

The old dugong looked away from his view, glancing back disinterestedly at where his students were lined up and glaring at him impatiently.

[We've done our chores around Sunny. We've done what we can for Prince Fukaboshi at Grove 77. We even tried the Rip-Off Bar before the Supernovas decided to start camping out there, at which point the risks of Kid barbecuing us sky-rocketed,] Mikey explained.

[And we've been all over and under the archipelago. There's nobody worth our time; no new pirate crews, no Marines above common grunts, no Government agents snooping around—not even around the new sanctuary!—and not a trace of the slave trade left on the island to destroy. Or at least driven so far underground that we're not finding it anytime soon,] Donny continued.

[We're supposed to be getting stronger here. As in, future us should be able to beat present Luffy. Everyone else has probably got a head start on their training. So why are we just sitting around and waiting?] Raphey demanded.

[What she means is, why are you so calm about this and not even running us through our normal training drills?] Leo stated.

Shaking his head slowly, Boss turned back to look at them.

[Because you clearly need this lesson in wisdom if you haven't figured out why we're here yet,] he said, his tone dull and grave. [Think. While you still can.]

The anger faltered as the quartet shivered.

[…Also, in these dark and depressing times, if a master cannot draw satisfaction from the suffering of his students, then we are truly lost.]

Then they face-faulted.

[Oh, come on, that's not fair!] they said in loose unison.

Boss sighed heavily, leaping off of the pavilion and Tidal Swimming into the air.

[Guard the ship. And see if you can tell me why that isn't something to complain about when I get back.]

[BOOOOOOOSS!] they whined.

Boss snorted and shook his head as he swam towards Grove 77. His disciples would realize soon enough that they were in the calm before the storm, and that the aftereffects would guarantee them no chance to rest as they had now.

But time to rest was also time to learn, and so long as there was an amicable warrior merman on the island…

-o-

The Eternal Hell

The clang of the cell slamming and locking still echoed in their ears, far more than the din of the prisoners' yells around them.

Whitey Bay and Squard were livid for the expected reasons. But Ace… his tears hadn't stopped since he awakened. Not until now, when faced with the sheer shock of the figure that they had just added to his cell.

He had sunken into a meditation position when they locked him up, eyes closed and oblivious to the din around him. Or so it would seem; there were a handful of crooks that were simply too noisy. Such as a certain legless man nearby, restrained with great prejudice.

"JIHAHAHAHAHA! HOW THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN! ALLIES OF THE GREAT WHITEBEARD BROUGHT THIS LOW?!"

Ace's temper flared at the insult to his captain and father—

"—you couldn't suck it up for ten fucking seconds and you died because of it!"

—and died a moment later as Cross's warning echoed in his mind once again, leaving him to slump again in defeat.

It was this, more than anything, that caused Jinbe to crack an eye open and snarl in the direction of the fallen lion.

"If you don't shut up, I'll come over there and shut you up myself."

"And how the hell do you intend to do that, you stupid fish?! You're imprisoned down here, just like the rest of—!"

CLANG!

The chain binding Jinbe to the wall came loose from the force he exerted, silencing the entire floor.

"Be. Quiet. I'm trying to meditate," Jinbe said calmly, returning to his previous serenity.

As the din picked up once more—even louder than before, though mercifully Shiki's voice wasn't a part of it—Squard picked up his jaw long enough to comment on what he'd just seen, "You could have escaped at any time!?"

"Hmph, hardly," Jinbe murmured back, lightly rolling his shoulder. "That was the only limb I had enough motion in; I expect the wardens will be by to rectify that oversight soon enough. But it shut him up, at least."

He looked back at Ace, a wry half-smile tugging at his mouth. "By the way… I met your brother a couple of weeks ago. He and his have been up to a lot since Enies Lobby. As it seems I can't get any peace and quiet here, care to hear some of what you've missed?"

It was a good several minutes before Ace could muster the energy to nod.

-o-

? ?

"A war of earthshaking potential… a new living weapon in mass production… and a Warlord coming to visit. Things are certainly picking up. It seems we may have to leave this place soon."

The speaker turned away from the display before them and to their left, where a young man with dirty blond hair stared at the screens.

"I take it that you didn't see this coming, either?"

"I didn't think that those jackasses we beat would wind up working for the Government," he replied somberly. "This wasn't supposed to happen…"

"The end of the last SBS… what happened to provoke such anger?"

Jeremiah Cross's fists clenched furiously.

"Portgas D. Ace… I only met him once, in Alabasta. But he's Luffy's big brother. Can you imagine how much it's going to hurt him, when he grew up without any parents, for one of the only people he ever had to die? I can, because I saw it."

With eyes wide in horror as he stared at the multitude of malicious machinations in Impel Down's six floors, he finished his thought. "And I saw Luffy fighting tooth and nail to stop it, too… even through all of the hell that was here before these… 'BioMEGA' were added. Even if he had to do it… alone."

The chamber was silent at this revelation. The room's master, however, extended a hand and patted his shoulder.

"He won't be alone, boy. We will aid him as soon as we see him come."

Cross's face split into a wide grin, but the speaker held up their hand.

"But I think that that's enough. We know the plan now, and I think we can surmise that whatever future would have happened, we would have helped Straw Hat regardless. Now we only know that we need to be prepared."

Giving a wry smirk and a sigh, Cross nodded and raised his own hand…

…touching it to his left cheek to restore his true form.

Newkama Land

"Really, though, knowledge of the future as well?" Ivankov questioned, both weary and incredulous in the same sentence. The former bounty hunter before him had put more effort into imitating Cross than any of his other copied faces, and while it could often provide insight into his mind, sometimes the theories were just… out there.

"He knew about you and this place, knew I was coming to their ship in Alabasta, knew my real name, and he talked about a war like this in one of his first broadcasts, the one about the Darwin Award," Bentham listed off with a heavy sigh, only finding the energy to spin himself into two and a half pirouettes. "If he doesn't know the future, or at least some version of it, I'll eat my swans."

"Not to mention his lack of concern regarding your imminent capture," Inazuma noted as she (at the moment) strode up to them, swirling her wine in her glass. "In fact, didn't you say that he all but insisted on your self-sacrifice?"

"Or as close to it as possible, yes," the multi-faced okama nodded in agreement, then swept back into a standing faint. "Oh, the poor dear! He must have been planning for just such an eventuality from the moment he set foot on the Straw Hats' deck! Such a terrible burden!"

"Mm… and one I'm sure he already thought he'd managed to shrug, no less…" Ivankov declared in a grim tone. A statement that had their underlings looking up at them in shock.

"Come again?" Inazuma questioned. "But how—?"

"That broadcast he made, after the fall of Enies Lobby, when his bounty picture was taken," Ivankov declared, waving a copy of said bounty. "When he made that broadcast, Cross-boy wasn't just happy, he was euphoric, long after the initial rush of the Enies battle should have worn off. The type of euphoria one might feel, say…"

"If they thought they'd managed to successfully avert a world-shattering war…" Bentham concluded the thought, his face a mask of grief. "Oh, that poor dear… and if that last broadcast was anything to go by, he only just learned that it failed. He'd just risen to the highest of heights!"

"And now," Inazuma continued. "I would not be surprised if he has fallen deeper than even us. Truly, the World Government's cruelty knows no bounds…" In toast to that grim statement, she knocked the glass back.

Cross-Brain AN: The good news? We have a few allies savvy enough to realize what's coming, waiting to support Luffy. And the bad news? Well, for anyone who thought we'd show where Cross ended up after all…

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Happy April Fools Day.

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Music Citation: The 'certain tune' Robin hums is 'Do You Believe in Magic, à la Pyro from Team Fortress 2.