The Red Force's sleek hull sliced through the water, its speed unmatched, its crimson sails billowing in the wind. Benn Beckman stood at the helm, cigarette between his fingers as he fixed on the distance. The silhouette of the captured ship grew larger with each passing moment, and Benn's grip tightened on the wheel. He could see figures moving on the deck—familiar figures.
"There they are," Benn said, crushing his cigarette. "Prepare to board."
Bonk Punch, Monster, and Gab sprang into action. Bonk Punch checked the cannons, his deep voice rumbling with satisfaction. "Ready to give 'em a warm welcome if needed."
Monster stood at the railing, jumping up and down, flailing his long monkey arms.
Gab, darted up the rigging, climbing high to get a better view. "I see them! It's Lucky, Limejuice, Snake, and Hongo! And… someone else?"
Benn's eyes narrowed as he studied the figures on the Navy ship. "Looks like they've made a new friend. Let's get over there."
As the Red Force pulled alongside the captured vessel, the two crews erupted into cheers. Limejuice, Lucky Roux, Building Snake, and Hongo stood on the deck, their faces lit with triumphant grins. Beside them stood Eli, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of the approaching ship.
Lucky Roux, meat rack in hand, called out. "We were starting to think you'd forgotten about us!"
Benn allowed himself a faint smile as he stepped onto the deck of the Navy ship. "You're hard to miss, Lucky. Especially when you're causing this much trouble."
Bonk Punch and Monster followed with a mix of relief and pride. "You guys really know how to make an entrance," Bonk Punch said, clapping Hongo on the shoulder. "Taking over a Navy ship? Not bad." Monster rumbled with approval, gesturing his arms dramatically.
Gab darted forward, with a toothy grin, his mane rippling in the breeze. "You're okay! And who's this?" He pointed his thumb at Eli with curiosity.
Eli smirked, crossing his arms. "Name's Eli. I helped these guys break out. Figured I'd stick around—seems like you're my kind of people."
Limejuice placed an encouraging hand on Eli's shoulder, peering at Ben through his dark glasses. "We couldn't have done it without him. He's got guts—and skills."
Benn nodded, appraising Eli as he tapped a cigarette loose from his case. "If you fought alongside my crew, you're one of us. Welcome aboard."
Eli's smirk softened into a genuine smile. "Thanks. I think I'm going to like it here."
The two crews quickly set to work, transferring supplies and securing the captured ship. Lucky Roux regaled the crew with exaggerated tales of their escape, while Hongo and Building Snake shared the finer details of their plan. Limejuice stood beside Benn, his light hair flowing behind him, searching the horizon. "We've got a good crew," Limejuice said quietly. "Even with everything that's happened, we're still standing."
The decks of the Red Force and the captured Navy ship buzzed with activity as the Red Hair Pirates prepared for their next move. The crew had successfully taken the slaver's ship, but their celebration was short-lived. Shanks and Yasopp were still missing, and the crew's determination to find them burned brighter than ever. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a brilliant shine over the sea, Benn Beckman called the crew together for a meeting.
They gathered on the deck of the Red Force, their faces lit by the warm light of lanterns. Benn stood at the center, scrutinizing the group. "We've got two priorities," he lit a cigarette. "First, we need to deal with the slaver's ship. Second, we're going after Shanks and Yasopp."
Lucky Roux ripped meat from the bone with his teeth, "What's the plan for the slaver's ship? We can't just let it go."
Benn nodded, blowing out a plume of smoke. "We'll escort it to the nearest port and hand it over to the authorities. The slaves on board deserve justice, and the slavers deserve to face the law. But we'll make sure the Marines know who stopped them. We're not hiding from this."
Building Snake crossed his tattooed arms as he focused on Benn. "And what about Shanks and Yasopp? We can't waste time."
Benn, cigarette between his lips, unfolded a map and spread it across a barrel. "We'll use Shanks' Vivre Card to track him. It's our best shot at finding him quickly. Once we've dealt with the slaver's ship, we'll set sail and follow the card's direction."
Hongo, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "What about Yasopp? We don't have a Vivre Card for him."
Benn, holding the cigarette between his fingers. "Yasopp's a survivor. If we find Shanks, chances are Yasopp won't be far behind. They've been through worse together."
Eli, the newest member of the crew, leaned against the railing, his smirk returning. "Sounds like a solid plan. But what if the Vivre Card leads us into dangerous territory? We've already got the Marines and slavers on our tails."
Limejuice flips his staff to rest on his shoulder. "Then we'll handle it. We're the Red Hair Pirates. We don't back down from a fight."
Benn took a pull from his cigarette as his gaze swept over the crew, with a firm voice, "We'll escort the slaver's ship to the nearest port, then set sail immediately after. We're not wasting a second. Shanks and Yasopp are out there, and we're bringing them home."
The crew murmured in unwavering agreement. Chomping on a piece of meat, Lucky Roux clapped a hand on Benn's shoulder. "You can count on us, Benn. We'll get it done."
The next morning, the two ships set sail, the Red Force leading the way as the captured Navy ship followed closely behind. The journey to the nearest port was swift, the crew working together to ensure the slavers remained securely detained. When they arrived, Benn and a small group went ashore to hand over the ship and its captives to the local authorities.
The port officials were stunned by the sight of the infamous Red Hair Pirates delivering a slaver's ship, but Benn's calm authority left no room for argument. "These men are responsible for human trafficking," he said with an edge of steel. "See that they face justice."
As the crew prepared to set sail once more, Benn gathered them on the deck of the Red Force. He held up Shanks' Vivre Card, the small piece of paper fluttering gently in the breeze. The card pointed steadily in one direction, a beacon guiding them to their captain.
"This is it," Benn said, looking to the horizon as smoke trailed from the cigarette between his fingers. "We follow the Vivre Card. No matter where it leads, we're bringing Shanks home."
Lucky Roux grinned, his round face full of meat, "And Yasopp. He's probably driving Shanks crazy right about now."
The crew laughed, their spirits lifted by the thought of reuniting with their missing comrades. The sea stretched endlessly before them as the Red Force set sail, its crimson sails catching the wind.
*****
The air is thick with anticipation, the kind that precedes a storm or a battle. Darius Rhea stands at the helm, his leather jacket flapping in the wind, his pompadour unmoved by the gale as he stands on the airship deck. His stubbled chiseled jaw is set in a hard line, his amber eyes scanning the distance where the Consortium's island looms like a shadow. The faint sound of a harmonica drifts through the air, off-key and sporadic, as Darius fidgets with the instrument, his mind racing with the weight of the plan ahead.
Behind him, Finn Rix leans against the railing, his split-tinted hair—fuchsia and teal—disheveled by the breeze. He's scribbling furiously in a small notebook, an exciting letter to his future self about his anxious anticipation, his youthful face furrowed in concentration. His cutlass rests at his side, its hilt worn from use. Finn glances up at Darius, his dark eyes wide with admiration. Chewing the inside of his cheek, "You think the Guardians will fall for the distraction?" he asks, with nervous energy.
Darius stops playing the harmonica and tucks it into his jacket, his deep voice is a calm authority. "They will. They're predictable, just like Aurélie. She'll take the bait, and when she does, we'll have our opening." His tone darkens at the mention of Aurélie. He clenches his fist, the memory of his brother's death flashing in his mind—his brother, who trusted Aurélie to protect him. Darius shakes his head, refocusing. "Stay sharp, Finn. This isn't a game."
Finn nods, his playful demeanor momentarily subdued. He grips his cutlass tighter, his mind racing with the possibilities of using his Mold-Mold Fruit powers to reshape the battlefield. "I'll keep them busy, no matter what," he says, his voice firm despite the tremor of uncertainty.
Below deck, of the submarine trailing the fleet of airships, Vesper Corvin sits in the dimly lit cabin, meticulously arranging a plate of food. His long, carmine hair falls over his shoulders as he separates each item, eating them one at a time in a specific order. His refined, almost feminine features are calm, but his aloof demeanor hides a storm of emotions. He glances at Drusilla Lorne, who's lounging on a nearby couch, her long, pearly waves cascading around her face. She's folding a used teabag into an intricate geometric shape, her large blue eyes focused on the delicate task.
"You sure you're ready for this, Vesper?" Drusilla asks with dripping sarcasm. "Or are you going to freeze up like you did in training?" She smirks, her tone teasing but cutting.
Vesper's eyes narrow, his arrogance flaring. "I didn't freeze. I chose to leave." He retorts coldly. He sets his plate aside and stands, adjusting his button-down vest. "Unlike you, I don't need to prove anything."
Drusilla laughs, a sharp, mocking sound. "We'll see about that when we're in the thick of it." She tucks the folded teabag into her pocket and stands, her fishnet stockings catching the light as she stretches. Her Serval Zoan powers hum beneath her skin, ready to be unleashed. She checks her pistols and dagger, brushing her fingers over their distinct edges.
*****
The dojo's training grounds were bathed in the soft, golden hue of late afternoon. Shanks and Marya stood facing each other, their blades gleaming in the sunlight. The sound of steel clashing echoed through the quiet courtyard. Shanks moved with his usual easy confidence while Marya countered, her jaw set and muscles tight.
But as the sparring match progressed, something shifted. Marya became more aggressive, her strikes faster and less controlled. Her breathing grew ragged, and her eyes began to cloud. Shanks noticed the change immediately; his brow creased, and he grew more serious as he tried to redirect her energy.
"Marya," he said with firm calmness, "Take a breath. You're losing focus."
Marya didn't respond, her strikes became more erratic as she pressed for her advantage. Shanks parried each blow with fluid ease, but it was clear that Marya was no longer in control. Her frustration boiled over, and with a fierce cry, she unleashed a powerful strike that sent Shanks skidding back.
Shanks raised an eyebrow, his lips pursed in concern. "All right, that's one way to do it. But you're letting your emotions take over. That's not going to help you."
Marya shook her head, her vexation evident. "I don't need your advice, Shanks. I can handle this."
Shanks sighed, becoming more serious. "Marya, you're not handling it. You're letting it handle you."
Before he could say more, Marya lunged at him again, her strikes chaotic. Shanks parried each blow, but it was clear that the match was spiraling out of control. The sound of their blades clashing grew louder, their movements more intense, until finally, Marya reached her peak.
With a fierce cry, she unleashed a powerful strike that sent Shanks skidding back, his feet digging into the ground as he struggled to maintain his balance. The force of the blow was enough to send them both crashing through the wooden fence of the Dojo, sailing over the edge of the cliff, their sparring match spilling out onto the sandy beach beyond.
Master Gaius, Aurélie, and Yasopp, who had been watching from the sidelines, exchanged concerned glances as they followed the pair. The sun was beginning to set, casting a rich glow over the sand and the waves that lapped at the shore.
Shanks stood his ground, flexing his jaw as he faced Marya. "Marya, this isn't you. You're better than this."
Marya's eyes were void of color as they blazed, her breathing ragged while gripping Eternal Night tightly. "You don't get it, Shanks."
Shanks took a calming breath. "Maybe I don't. But I do know what it's like to lose control. And trust me, it's not worth it."
Marya hesitated. Her breathing began to steady, and her feelings wavered as she met Shanks' gaze. For a moment, it seemed like she might listen, but then her jaw clenched, as an image of the Vice Admiral's blade slicing into her side flooded her mind, the sharp agony and shock rekindling her rage. The sensation of steel tearing through her flesh, leaving a searing burn and a deep scar, fueled her wild strikes as she lunged again.
Shanks, wielding Gryphon with masterful accuracy, deflected Marya's frenzied strikes with effortless grace. Each movement was a testament to his skill, as he maintained a calm and steady defense against her chaotic assault. Teeth bared; ferocity surged through Marya as each of her wild strikes were effortlessly deflected. Her desperation to overpower him grew, her thoughts muddied by the maddening realization that her strength alone was not enough.
Master Gaius stepped forward, taking his weathered kiseru pipe from between his teeth. "Marya, that's enough."
Marya didn't respond, her attacks growing more erratic as she pressed her advantage. Aurélie, her silver hair catching the light, her hand at the ready on Anathema's hilt, "Marya, you're losing yourself. You need to stop."
Yasopp, blinking through squinted eyes, added, "Hey, Marya."
Marya hesitated, wavering as she tilted her head and met their gazes. It seemed like she was considering, but then her muscles tensed, and she charged at Shanks.
Shanks, sensing the fragile line between subduing Marya and harming her, tempered his strength with a gentleness that belied the intensity of their clash. Every calculated deflection, every controlled parry was a conscious effort to shield her from further internal strife. He could see the torment in her eyes, the raw wound of betrayal and rage that drove her relentless onslaught.
It pained him to see her like this, consumed by a darkness she could not seem to shake. In his heart, he knew that meeting her fury with equal force would only deepen her wounds, both physical and emotional. He was determined to be the unyielding barrier that she needed, not to overpower her, but to exhaust her rage without causing her harm.
Marya's eyes flared with a deep-seated frustration, not just from the pain and rage that fueled her strikes, but from the patronizing restraint she sensed in Shanks' every movement. Each deflection, each calm parry, was a reminder that he was holding back, that he did not see her as an equal threat. The realization gnawed at her pride, anger bubbling up from a place deeper and more potent than even her desire for retribution.
"Stop holding back!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation and defiance. The feeling of being underestimated, of battling an opponent who refused to acknowledge her full strength, was almost unbearable. It was as if Shanks' composed demeanor and careful dodges were mocking her, belittling her fury and effort.
Her strikes became a reflection of her pending insanity, fueled by a mix of humiliation and purpose to force Shanks to take her seriously. But with each failed attempt, the shadow of doubt crept in, whispering insidiously that perhaps she wasn't strong enough to break through his composed facade.
*****
The laboratory was a chaotic blend of ancient relics and cutting-edge technology, its walls lined with shelves of dusty tomes, glowing crystals, and intricate machinery. Charlie, Zola, Emmet, and Bianca were gathered around a large worktable. Their attention focused on an ancient relic of immense power. The relic, a shimmering orb encased in intricate metalwork, pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light, its energy humming softly in the air.
Charlie carefully examined the relic's surface, his glasses slipping down his nose as he peered at the ancient runes etched into its casing. "These symbols—they're unlike anything I've seen before. They could be the key to understanding how this thing works."
Zola, her pink hair tied back neatly, studied the data on her tablet. "The energy readings are off the charts. If we can harness this power, it could revolutionize our technology. But we need to be careful—this thing is volatile."
Emmet, his red hair tousled from hours of work, leaned over the table, focused as he tinkered with a piece of machinery. "If we can create a stable connection between the relic and our systems, we might be able to channel its energy. But we'll need to run a few more tests to be sure."
Bianca, her long black hair tied back in a loose ponytail, was busy scribbling notes on a whiteboard, "Okay, so, like, if we can figure out how to, like, stabilize the energy flow, we could, like, totally use this to power the entire island. But, like, we have to make sure it doesn't, like, blow up or something."
Charlie nodded excitedly. "Exactly. But first, we need to understand how the relic generates its power. Let's try activating it on a smaller scale and see what happens."
Zola put her tablet down. "Agreed. But we should proceed with caution. The energy output could be unpredictable."
Emmet nodded, stroking his chin. "I'll set up the containment field. That should help control any unexpected surges."
Bianca grinned, tapping her marker against the whiteboard. "Okay, but, like, if this goes wrong, I'm, like, totally blaming you guys."
As the team prepared for the experiment, the air in the laboratory grew tense, and the hum of the relic's energy grew louder as they activated it. The orb began to glow brighter, its light casting strange shadows on the walls. They watched with bated breath, their excitement mingling with a flicker of apprehension.
"Energy levels are rising," Zola said urgently while leaning in. "Containment field is holding, but we need to monitor it closely."
Emmet adjusted the machinery; his voice raised an octave. "I'm trying to stabilize the flow, but it's not responding like it should."
Bianca's eyes widened as she watched the readings on her tablet. "Uh, guys? The energy levels are, like, spiking. Like, a lot."
Charlie's brow furrowed in concern. "That's not good. We need to shut it down—now!"
But before they could react, the relic's energy surged, its light growing blindingly bright. The containment field flickered and then failed, the energy bursting outward in a massive explosion. The force of the blast rocked the entire island, sending shockwaves through the ground and shattering windows in the nearby buildings.
In the laboratory, the explosion sent Charlie, Zola, Emmet, and Bianca flying across the room, their equipment and notes scattered in every direction. The air was consumed in smoke and the acrid smell of burnt metal, the once-organized lab now a disordered mess.
As the dust began to settle, Charlie groaned, pushing himself up from the floor. "Is everyone okay?"
Zola coughed, her glasses askew as she sat up. "I'm fine. But the relic—it's gone."
Emmet rubbed his head, dazed. "What the hell just happened?"
Bianca, her hair now a wild mess, looked around the ruined lab, incredulously. "Uh, I think we, like, totally blew up the island."
Outside, the explosion had drawn the attention of the entire community. People rushed to the laboratory, their faces filled with concern and confusion.