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Frank's eyes gleamed with determination as he stepped forward, his decision made. "Shopkeeper, I'll take this Clear-Clear Fruit." His voice carried no hesitation—he knew exactly what he wanted.
Turning to Rosh, he reaffirmed his choice, his stance firm. "However, I'll need some time to gather the gold. Can you hold onto this Clear-Clear Fruit for me until then?"
Rosh regarded him for a brief moment before responding smoothly, "You can deposit five hundred thousand dollars, and I will reserve the Clear-Clear Fruit for you for one month."
Frank's mind immediately ran the numbers. 'Half a million dollars just to hold onto it?'
It was steep—fifty kilograms of gold for the purchase, and even securing the fruit temporarily required a staggering sum. But a Devil Fruit wasn't just some rare trinket; it was power—true, undeniable power. And in Frank's world, power meant everything.
He didn't waver. "I'll get the money as soon as I can."
With that, he turned on his heel, his trench coat billowing behind him as he strode purposefully into the bustling streets. His mind was already working on the fastest way to secure the funds.
Rosh watched his retreating figure with quiet amusement, a faint, knowing smile playing at the edges of his lips.
When the Punisher finally consumed the Clear-Clear Fruit, the criminals of New York wouldn't just have something to fear—they would face their worst nightmare brought to life.
The very thought sent a ripple of anticipation through Rosh. 'This city has no idea what's coming.'
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Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan.
"Is it better to be respected or feared? I say—why not both?"
Tony Stark stood before a group of high-ranking military officials, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit and his signature dark sunglasses. His effortless charm radiated through the room, blending arrogance and charisma in a way only he could pull off.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce a weapon designed precisely for that purpose."
He gestured toward the sleek missile system behind him with a practiced flourish.
"This," he continued, "is the pinnacle of the Stark Industries Liberty line—a state-of-the-art missile system featuring our exclusive Rapid Response Tactical Strike technology."
His voice carried the easy confidence of a man who knew he was the smartest person in the room.
"Some say the best weapon is the one you never have to use." He paused for effect, letting the thought settle. Then, with a smirk, he added, "I respectfully disagree. The best weapon is the one you only have to fire once."
A murmur of intrigue rippled through the crowd. Tony wasn't just selling a product—he was selling a promise.
"My father believed that. America believes that. And so do I," he continued. "Fire one of these babies, and I guarantee your enemies will be cowering in caves."
His words flowed smoothly, his presence commanding. The assembled officers, initially skeptical, now watched with anticipation.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
*Whoosh!*
A missile launched into the sky with a sharp hiss, slicing through the air with precision. The onlookers barely had time to react before—
*Boom!*
The warhead split mid-flight, releasing a cluster of smaller missiles that rained down over the distant mountains. A series of deafening explosions erupted, sending massive plumes of smoke and fire billowing into the sky. The shockwave rolled through the valley, shaking the ground and nearly knocking the observers off balance.
Tony turned back to them, flashing a knowing grin.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Jericho Missile!"
The spectacle spoke for itself. Silence hung in the air for a beat before murmurs of approval spread through the crowd. Even the most skeptical officers were now watching him with something between admiration and awe.
Satisfied that his point had been made, Tony wasted no time sealing the deal. He wrapped up the formalities with a few well-placed jokes, effortlessly maintaining his charm. And, because he was Tony Stark, he made sure to leave them with a parting gift—a case of top-shelf liquor.
Because in business, as in war, a little generosity never hurt.
Tony exchanged a few quick words with Obadiah Stane before heading toward his designated Jeep, the sun blazing down on the desert sands. A familiar voice called out behind him as he reached for the door handle.
"Hey, Tony!" Colonel James "Rhodey" Rhodes approached with his usual no-nonsense stride, clearly intending to ride along.
Tony, never one to miss an opportunity for mischief, turned to him with a smirk. "Sorry, buddy, this is the 'Fun Jeep.' Your 'Boring Jeep' is in the back."
Rhodey exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Really?"
Tony shot him a playful grin before climbing inside.
With an exasperated sigh, Rhodey muttered something under his breath and moved to another vehicle, shaking his head at his best friend's antics.
The convoy engines rumbled to life, tires kicking up dust as they rolled forward, weaving through the rugged desert terrain. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost routine—another day in the life of Tony Stark.
But then—
*Boom!*
The lead vehicle exploded in a fiery blast, metal shrapnel flying in all directions. Flames shot into the sky, thick black smoke billowing upward like a signal of impending chaos.
Before anyone could react—
*Rat-tat-tat!*
A hail of gunfire erupted from the rocky cliffs surrounding them, bullets pinging against armored plating. The deafening roar of automatic weapons filled the air, shattering any illusion of safety.
The ambush had begun.
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32nd Street, New York.
*Whoosh!*
The red Ferrari streaked through the city like a comet, weaving between cars with reckless precision, the roar of its engine drowning out the blaring horns of angry drivers. The driver, a man with dark sunglasses and an unchecked hunger for adrenaline, gripped the wheel with one hand while the other traced lazy circles on the bare thigh of the woman beside him.
A wild grin stretched across his face, his teeth flashing like a wolf about to pounce. The wind whipped through his hair as he pushed the pedal down even further, sending the car hurtling through the crowded streets.
"Oh my god!" the woman shrieked, throwing her hands in the air, half in terror, half in exhilaration. "This is insane!"
Lucien chuckled, eyes gleaming with something between arrogance and ecstasy. "Now this—" he gunned the engine, "—this is life."
No rules. No limits. No one to tell him what to do.
Up ahead, the traffic light flashed red. Other cars slowed, obedient to the laws of the road. But Lucien? He lived outside the law.
Instead of braking, he slammed the accelerator.
*Whoosh*
The Ferrari shot forward like a missile, blasting through the intersection. Tires screeched as other drivers swerved in panic, their honks blaring in protest. Chaos unfolded in his wake, but Lucien never spared a glance back.
His passenger, however, did. Twisting in her seat, she caught sight of flashing red and blue lights weaving through traffic behind them.
"Uh, Lucien, babe… the cops are still after us."
Lucien barely spared a glance at the rearview mirror.
Sure enough, two police motorcycles had just cleared the last intersection, their sirens wailing. Behind them, a pair of squad cars thundered down the street, determined to end the chase.
Lucien smirked. "Let them try."
They had been after him for blocks now. And what? Did they actually think they could catch him?
He had been toying with them the entire time. His enhanced reflexes made navigating at these speeds feel like child's play. He could lose them in seconds if he felt like it.
They weren't even a challenge.
Then—
"Uh, Lucien… roadblock!" The woman's voice had a sharp edge of alarm now.
Lucien's gaze snapped forward. A row of squad cars had formed a solid barrier across the street. Officers were already stepping out, weapons drawn.
A dead end. For most people.
Lucien's smirk widened. "Well then… let's have some fun, baby."
At long last, he tapped the brakes, tires screeching as the Ferrari came to a dramatic, show-stopping halt just inches from the blockade.
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Next Chapter: The First Battle Between Devil Fruit Users
Next Next Chapter: The Ultimate Showdown
Next Next Next Chapter: Clash of Zoans – The Power of the Falcon Zoan
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