Alabasta, Rainbase.
Inside the luxurious Rain Dinners lobby, Crocodile tossed a heavy sack of treasure onto the floor. His subordinates hurried to collect and carry it away, the spoils from yet another group of pirates he had wiped out.
Around him, the guests watched with admiration and relief, their eyes full of trust. To them, Crocodile was the guardian of Alabasta.
He waved his hand casually and walked toward the back of the casino.
Click.
The doors to the inner chamber closed behind him.
Once alone, his face turned cold. He descended into the basement, the true core of his operations. Passing through a corridor filled with the massive banana gators he raised, he entered a vast office and slumped into his chair. A trace of exhaustion crossed his face.
No one could keep up a disguise for decades without feeling tired. But life had to go on, and his goal was far from achieved.
He pressed a button on his desk. Soon after, Robin, now an experienced and capable agent, entered the room.
She smiled faintly at the sight of his weariness. "Playing the hero again, Boss?"
At some point, she had developed her teasing side.
Crocodile let out a cold snort, pushing away his fatigue. "How's the Baroque Works organization coming along?"
"The structure's nearly complete," she replied with a chuckle. "There are still some stubborn holdouts in Whisky Peak. They refuse to join us but won't leave either. Otherwise, we'd be fully operational within two months."
Under Crocodile's secret management, Whisky Peak had already become a well-known hub for bounty hunters. Strength meant wealth there. With the steady flow of pirates from every sea, that island was a goldmine.
His expression darkened. "They want the benefits without giving up their freedom. Fools."
He flicked a sheet of paper toward her.
Several arms sprouted along Robin's forearm, catching the fluttering page. She glanced at the list; it was full of infamous assassins and Devil Fruit users.
"What's this?"
His voice rumbled low. "These are the killers I've chosen. Recruit them into Baroque Works. The price for each one is written there. If they agree, fine. If not, forget them. Don't start a conflict. As for those idiots in Whisky Peak, I'll deal with them myself. You can go."
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes.
Robin nodded and left.
Time passed. Then Crocodile began to laugh, quiet at first, then louder, until it turned manic.
"Ku... hahahaha! So that's how it is… How foolish I've been...Kuhahahaha!"
Bloodshot eyes and a cruel twist at his mouth made him look completely unhinged as Robin's earlier words, 'Playing the hero again, Boss?', echoed in his mind.
At this moment, he suddenly remembered the scene from years ago when he tried to use the people to pressure Sakazuki. Everything snapped into place.
Why did Sakazuki never care what the public thought? Why could he humiliate this 'national hero' so openly in front of the masses? It was because he was strong enough to bury all opposition under sheer power. Strong enough to ignore the voices of the world.
And he, Crocodile, had put on a mask he despised, pretending to be a hero for the sake of finding that ancient weapon.
Every day, playing the savior, surrounded by idiotic citizens who worshiped him. His disgust had grown so deep it became madness. Deep inside, he wanted to destroy them all, to crush those flies, to make them suffer and watch this country drown in eternal darkness.
"How foolish..." He sat up, mocking his own past self.
Maybe Sakazuki had looked at the crowd the same way he did. So easy to erase.
The irritation from pretending to be a hero faded away, replaced by a sharp, renewed focus.
"Different heights," he muttered, gazing into the distance.
Something in his presence changed; his ambition grew colder, deeper.
* * *
New World, Punk Hazard.
In a vast underground laboratory, Carlo waited for Vegapunk to arrive. The place was filled with humming machines, but he wasn't alone.
A young girl stood motionless nearby. White hair and dark skin were all that set her apart. She did not move. She seemed almost not alive.
Late at night, Vegapunk emerged from a hidden passage. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Carlo smiled. "Not at all. Admiral Sakazuki asked me to deliver this to you."
The scientist took the box and opened it. "I'm already aware," he said, his eyes lighting up as he stared at the Munch-Munch Fruit. "Excellent. Truly perfect."
He hadn't yet decided how to use it, but the fruit's potential for synthesizing memory metals alone was reason enough to treasure it.
Carefully setting it aside, he lifted the other item, the Shroom-Shroom Fruit. "You've seen the Pacifista I prepared, haven't you?"
Carlo paused. "You mean... that little girl?"
"That's right." Vegapunk confirmed. "She's the latest Pacifista prototype. No codename yet; it's only the first generation. Not perfect, but the best candidate to consume this fruit."
He continued explaining, "The Shroom-Shroom Fruit's spore bomb can only be fired once every ten years. Normally, that shouldn't make sense. After all, once a person eats a Devil Fruit, they control its power. But according to all known records, every past user of this fruit could only launch the spore bomb once per decade.
"So it's likely that the spore bomb requires certain nutrients inside the body, which take about ten years to regenerate. What exactly it needs, I'm not sure. I'd love to study it, but I don't have the time. But with this Pacifista, things are different."
He pointed at the white-haired girl. "Unlike the government's model, which completely turns humans into machines, this one was cultivated."
Carlo raised an eyebrow. "Cultivated... robot?"
The scientist gave a nod. "Yes. A robot made of flesh and blood. I owe much of it to the experimental data Enel sent me from Judge's research. After combining all the data and refining it with Lineage Factor editing, and some ideas discussed with Sakazuki, I created this being.
"Since she's grown rather than built, she has unlimited potential. In theory, she can even merge with rare bloodline traits or Devil Fruit powers. But that part hasn't gone smoothly. The cellular conflicts are too severe.
"For now, she's the first prototype, developed using tissues from the Love-Love Fruit user. Her talent is exceptional, and most importantly, she matures rapidly. Like Judge's clone soldiers, who reach full adult form in five years, I've optimized her growth cycle to about three or four years."
He glanced at the small girl, about eleven or twelve years old. "After she eats the Shroom-Shroom Fruit, she'll reach full maturity in roughly two years. By then, she'll be capable of producing one spore bomb. Oh, and if we're not in a rush to use it, two years later, we can fire one off for research. If we're lucky, we might directly cultivate a special type of spore bomb."
Fruits like the Shroom-Shroom and Venom-Venom types produced distinct materials. With enough equipment and time, their composition could absolutely be analyzed. Once they had an original sample, cloning it wouldn't be an issue.
Carlo nodded thoughtfully. "I see... I'll report this to Admiral Sakazuki. I'll take my leave now, Doctor. Please get some rest."
Vegapunk smiled faintly. "Rest, huh? Well, go tell him."
With a flash, Carlo vanished.
The scientist sighed, rubbing his thinning hair. "Rest... there's never enough time for that."
He muttered, half-joking. "If only I had a few clones..."
"..."
"Wait. Clones... clones… That might actually work!"
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