Ayr stared coldly at Crocodile, his voice low and probing. "You, with your ambition do you really intend to surrender?"
Crocodile, though wounded, straightened up as much as his body allowed. A notorious pirate, his goals had never been small. He didn't just want to plunder the seas he sought the crown of Alabasta, the legitimacy of a throne, and perhaps, with the whispers of Ancient Weapons, even control over the entire world. That kind of ambition didn't vanish overnight.
But Crocodile didn't hesitate. "Of course," he said quickly, his voice humble yet urgent. "I'll abandon everything Alabasta, Baroque Works. I'll bring them to your service. If you wish to rule Alabasta, I'll help make it yours."
He lowered his proud head with surprising sincerity. Once a man who sought to bring kingdoms to their knees, now he bowed with something resembling respect.
But Ayr only shook his head. "I have no interest in Alabasta. Ruling a kingdom? Too small a vision."
His voice remained calm, but Crocodile understood the subtext. Ayr wasn't thinking in borders he was looking toward the top of the world. Yonko. Legend. God.
Ayr's gaze sharpened. "And what about the Shichibukai title? You'd give that up too?"
The Seven Warlords of the Sea one of the World Government's pillars of balance, a title feared and coveted by pirates across the Grand Line. A badge of power and untouchability.
Crocodile didn't flinch. "That title means nothing to me anymore. To serve under you, even as a minor captain, would be an honor."
Ayr gave a slight nod, barely acknowledging the gesture. "You're surprisingly sincere."
Then he gestured with his hand. "Fine. Get up. I accept your offer."
Relief washed across Crocodile's blood-stained face. He clutched his side and rose slowly, gritting through the pain. Ayr turned, his tone as calm as ever.
"Go. Settle your affairs. Return to me when you're done."
Then he paused, casting a final, razor-sharp glance over his shoulder. "But if you try to vanish… I'll find you."
Crocodile didn't doubt it. If he broke this pact, Ayr wouldn't stop until he was dead.
Bowing once more, Crocodile limped out.
Ayr turned to Robin, who had remained quiet at his side. "Come," he said. "Let's go over how things work here."
---
A few days later Alabasta.
Thanks to his previous manipulation of public opinion, Crocodile still wore the mask of a beloved hero to the common folk. So when he reappeared wrapped in bandages and quietly announcing his departure the people of Alabasta were stunned. Many gathered to see him off, offering gifts, tears, and heartfelt farewells. Their loyalty was real, their belief in him unshaken.
It gave Crocodile pause. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he'd stayed, played the role long enough could he have truly become their hero?
Behind him, Baroque Works members watched the scene in confusion. His sudden return, the injuries, the unexpected farewell it didn't add up. There had been no meeting, no orders, just one announcement: "We're leaving."
Once aboard the ship, with his crew unsettled and silence hanging thick, it was Mr. 2, Bon Clay, who finally spoke up.
"Boss Crocodile! Why now? We were doing well here we had momentum!"
Others echoed his concern. "Yeah! We were building something real!"
Crocodile didn't answer immediately. He stared out at the receding shoreline, then finally turned to his crew.
"This isn't another scheme. We're not moving on to the next big score."
They waited, confused.
"This time, we're following someone else. I've chosen to serve under a new captain."
Silence fell over the ship. Baroque Works, a den of cutthroats and schemers, rarely followed anyone blindly. Loyalty wasn't their nature. So when they heard what Crocodile had just confessed, most of them blinked in disbelief.
"Serving someone else?" one asked, dumbfounded.
Even Bon Clay froze, processing what the former Warlord had just said.
Crocodile didn't repeat himself. He just looked to the horizon, silent and resolved, while the rest of Baroque Works stood behind him uncertain, but compelled to follow.