I opened my eyes fully, reaching up to adjust my new hat—because Nami still refused to return my hat to me, so I had to get a new one— then stood up while adjusting my cloak.
"Alright," I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly quiet hall. "They're gone. You can stop pretending now."
Zoro opened his eyes immediately, his expression shifting from fake drowsiness to sharp alertness in an instant. He stood smoothly, rolling his shoulders to loosen muscles that had been tensed for hours.
I turned my attention to where Nami was still pretending to be unconscious.
"Nami," I called out, knowing she was awake. "Stop acting. We need to move."
There was a moment of hesitation before she "woke up," sitting up with exaggerated grogginess that was completely fake.
"Mmmm... what?" She blinked, looking around the empty hall. "Where did everyone go?"
'Nice try, but I saw you tracking their movements. You've been awake this whole time.'
Zoro had noticed too, his expression shifting to mild annoyance.
"You weren't knocked out?" he asked, his tone carrying accusation. "After drinking that much?"
Nami's sheepish expression was probably the most genuine thing I'd seen from her all evening.
"As if I'd get drunk from only drinking that much," she replied, her voice carrying defensive pride. "I know how to handle my alcohol."
Zoro clicked his tongue in annoyance, though whether it was at Nami's deception or the situation in general was unclear.
We all looked at our three unconscious crewmates—Luffy snoring like a chainsaw, Sanji drooling slightly, and Usopp making small whimpering sounds in his sleep.
"Sigh…"
The collective sigh that escaped Zoro, Nami, and me was simultaneous and carried identical sentiments of exasperation.
'Three grown adults defeated by free food and the inability to recognize obvious danger. This is our crew. These are the people we're trusting with our lives.'
"We have to wake them up," I said, already moving toward where Luffy had collapsed. "There's no way we can leave them like this in enemy territory."
"Actually," Zoro interjected, his hand moving to rest on his sword hilts with casual confidence. "I can take care of all the enemies by myself. We could just carry these three and fight our way out."
I stopped mid-step, turning to stare at the swordsman with the kind of disbelief usually reserved for witnessing someone trying to drink the ocean.
'Did he seriously just suggest fighting a hundred armed operatives while carrying three unconscious people? Is he insane? Wait, rhetorical question—of course he's insane. But this is insane even by his standards.'
"Stop being an idiot," I said, keeping my voice level with supreme effort. "There's no way we can fight effectively while protecting three unconscious crewmates. We need to wake them up. Now."
Before the residents return with reinforcements. Before they realize we're still conscious. Before this situation gets even worse than it already is.
I reached Luffy's position and grabbed his rubber shoulder, shaking him with perhaps more force than strictly necessary.
"Luffy," I said, my voice sharp. "Wake up. There's a fight coming. You need to wake up NOW."
Our captain stirred slightly, his eyes cracking open with obvious difficulty.
"Mmm... five more minutes..." he mumbled, his voice thick with comfortable sleep. "The meat... was talking to me..."
'Oh, for crying out loud. He's hallucinating about sentient meat. The food has him completely compromised.'
"Luffy," I tried again, shaking him harder. "Listen to me. This whole thing was a trap. All the people on this island are bounty hunters. They fooled you. They're coming back to capture us. You need to WAKE UP."
"No way..." Luffy's voice carried stubborn denial even in his half-conscious state. "They were... good people... gave us food..."
I'd run out of patience and time. The residents would be back soon, probably with reinforcements and better weapons. We needed everyone to be conscious and ready to fight.
'Desperate times call for desperate measures. And desperate measures mean causing physical pain to rubber captains who won't wake up.'
I reached out and grabbed both of Luffy's rubber cheeks between my fingers while pinching hard.
STRETCH!
Then I pulled. Hard. Stretching his face to approximately twice its normal width.
"OWWWWW!!!" Luffy's eyes shot open, finally fully awake. "What are you doing?! That hurts!"
'Good. Pain means consciousness. Consciousness means survival.'
"You're awake now," I said flatly, releasing his abused cheeks. "So stay awake. We have a situation."
Across the hall, I could see Zoro and Nami working on waking Sanji and Usopp with similar levels of force.
The cook was being subjected to what looked like a very aggressive slap from Nami, while Usopp was getting his long nose clutched until he couldn't breathe.
"WHAT THE—" Sanji jerked awake, his eyes wide. "NAMI-SWAN?!"
"GAHHH! I CAN'T BREATHE!" Usopp flailed, his consciousness returning with panic.
Within moments, all three of our formerly unconscious crewmates were awake, confused, and looking around the empty hall with growing alarm.
"Where..." Sanji started, his cigarette somehow still in his mouth despite everything. "Where did everyone go?"
"The pretty ladies..." His face fell with tragic realization. "They left?"
Luffy sat up fully, rubbing his abused cheeks and looking around with confusion that was rapidly shifting to concern.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice still slightly slurred. "Why is everyone gone? Where are the people?"
"They left," I said bluntly, not bothering to sugarcoat the situation. "They're coming back soon with every weapon they can get. We need to move fast."
"Wait, wait, wait," Usopp said, his voice climbing with panic. "Is that really necessary? Maybe this is all just some big misunderstanding! Maybe they had to leave for... town business? Or... an emergency?"
'An emergency. Right. An emergency that required every single resident to evacuate simultaneously while leaving us unconscious in an empty hall. That's definitely what happened.'
Nami's expression was grim as she shook her head.
"It's not a misunderstanding," she said firmly. "This is really what's happening. The whole town is part of some kind of criminal organization."
Zoro picked up the explanation, his voice carrying the weight of experience.
"All the people here are part of the same organization as those two idiots we brought with us," he said, his hand never leaving his sword hilts. "Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday. This should be one of their bases."
"An organization?" Luffy's confusion was genuine and complete, his drugged brain still processing information at half speed. "What organization?"
"The secret one Crocus told us about," I said, watching Luffy's face for recognition. "The bounty hunters and assassins. Remember?"
Luffy's eyes widened slightly—not with understanding, but with that particular look he got when he was about to say something profoundly unhelpful.
"Oh," he said simply. Then paused. Then smiled. "I don't really understand."
'Of course you don't. Of course. Why would our captain understand basic cause and effect? That would require logical thinking.'
"But," Luffy continued, and his expression shifted into something more dangerous. Something that suggested the grogginess was wearing off and his natural instincts were kicking back in. "If that's true... if they really did trick us to capture us..."
His smile widened into something that would have been terrifying if I weren't already used to his particular brand of violent enthusiasm.
"Then we should give them a beating as thanks for the food!"
'Revenge for being tricked, motivated by the fact that they used food as bait. That's probably the most Luffy logic I've ever heard.'
Before the others could get swept up in our captain's enthusiasm for violence, I held up a hand.
"I'm still against the idea of fighting them like this," I said, and the bluntness in my voice got their attention immediately.
'Good. They're listening. Now to make them understand why charging into a hundred armed enemies is different from our usual brand of suicidal recklessness.'
"Even if they're weak," I continued, making eye contact with each crew member in turn. "Even if they're incomparable to Arlong's fishmen—"
That got their attention. Mentioning Arlong fishmen—the fishmen who'd terrorized Nami's village, who'd taken our full crew working together, plus the villagers to defeat—that was a reference point they all understood.
"We're inside enemy territory," I said, my voice taking on the analytical edge I usually reserved for breaking down social situations. "Complete disadvantage in terms of numbers. Barely any outside support. Escape routes that are probably monitored or blocked."
Usopp's face had gone pale. "That's... that's not good."
"No," I agreed. "It's not."
Sanji lit a fresh cigarette, his expression thoughtful rather than cocky for once. "So what do you suggest? We can't just surrender."
'At least the cook is thinking strategically instead of with his hormones. Small miracles.'
"If we're going to fight," I said, already running through tactical scenarios in my head, "we need to make use of this town's narrow alleyways. They can't leverage their numerical advantage in confined spaces. Their heavy weaponry becomes a liability when they risk hitting their own people."
I paused, making sure they were following.
"We stay mobile. Constant movement. Don't let them surround us or pin us down. Even if you're confident you can take down the enemy, don't stay in one place long enough for them to coordinate a response."
'Basic guerrilla tactics. Use the environment against superior numbers. It's not revolutionary strategy—it's survival 101.'
Zoro nodded slowly, his expression suggesting he'd already been thinking along similar lines. "Hit and run. Use the terrain."
"Exactly," I confirmed. Then I added the part I knew they wouldn't like. "I'll have the Going Merry close by most of the time. Gives us a retreat option if things go south."
Luffy opened his mouth—probably to protest that they didn't need to retreat because he never backed down from fights—but I cut him off.
"The moment I issue the order to retreat," I said, my voice taking on a harder edge, "you retreat. No arguments. No heroics. Our lives get priority over pride. Understood?"
'Please understand this. Please, for once, let the reckless idiots understand that survival matters more than winning.'
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Luffy looked like he wanted to argue, his face scrunched up with that stubborn expression that usually preceded him doing something incredibly stupid.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
'Holy… He actually agreed. Either the food affected his brain more than I thought, or he's actually learning tactical thinking.'
Zoro grunted his acknowledgment. Sanji blew out a stream of smoke that might have been agreement. Usopp looked relieved that someone had mentioned retreat as a viable option.
But Nami...
"I don't want to fight," she said, her voice carrying that practical tone that meant she'd been thinking this through. "I prefer to see if there's anything worth stealing here."
'Of course. The navigator's priorities remain consistent—acquire wealth, avoid unnecessary violence. It's actually the most sensible approach anyone's suggested.'
I looked at Luffy, whose stomach was still inflated with excessive food consumption, to see if he was okay with splitting up.
Our captain just nodded, seemingly unconcerned with our navigator deciding to pursue her own objectives.
'Leadership by complete lack of micromanagement. It shouldn't work, but somehow it does.'
"Okay," I said to Nami, already working out the logistics. "But you retreat to the ship immediately if you hear the loud whistle."
Our escape signal—something I'd established back in the East Blue.
Nami's smile was sheepish but genuine. "Got it. Try not to die while I'm making us rich."
Then, without further ceremony, she slipped through the nearest window with practiced ease.
FWIP!
'And there goes our navigator.'
"Let's move," I said, gesturing toward the door.
We sneaked out—or at least, I use the term loosely because Luffy, with his massively food-inflated stomach, couldn't possibly sneak anywhere.
SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
His rubber body had expanded to roughly spherical proportions, and every movement made soft squeaking sounds.
'Stealth is dead. Subtlety is crying in a corner. Our captain ate its corpse.'
"Did you have to eat THAT much?" Sanji said, his voice carrying annoyance mixed with genuine concern.
"It was delicious! And if I move around for a bit, I'll digest it anyway!" Our captain's response was muffled by his own inflated torso.
'That's not how digestion works. That's not how any of this works. A person's body doesn't—'
But as we moved through the darkened streets of Whiskey Peak, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the eyes of armed residents, I watched Luffy's stomach actually shrink.
Visibly. Rapidly. Like someone was letting air out of a balloon.
SQUEAK!
'What. WHAT. That's not—his metabolism can't possibly—a human body shouldn't—'
I exchanged glances with Usopp, Sanji, and Zoro. We all looked equally bewildered by this violation of basic biology.
'Two years in this world. Two years of impossible things. And I'm still surprised when the rubber man defies the laws of physics. I need to adjust my expectations.'
We ducked behind a building as a group of residents passed by, their weapons glinting in the torchlight.
CLINK! CLANK!
Swords, guns, clubs, nets—they were armed for capturing live bounties but prepared to kill if necessary. Their movements were coordinated, professional, suggesting military training or at least extensive combat experience.
Usopp crouched next to me, his body practically vibrating with nervous energy.
"Ha-Hachiman," he whispered, his voice climbing toward panic. "Is it really okay not to fight? Can't we just... run away? Like, now? Before they find us?"
'The coward's instinct for self-preservation is actually the most rational response here. Unfortunately, we're past the point of simple escape.'
Zoro shot Usopp a glare that could have cut steel.
"Get some spine," the swordsman growled. "We're pirates. We don't run from fights."
Sanji moved closer to me, his cigarette trailing smoke in the darkness. "Where are we going anyway?"
"To find the mayor," I replied, scanning the streets for patrol patterns. "Igarappoi, or whatever his real name is."
"Why?" Luffy asked, his stomach now down to only moderately inflated rather than comedically spherical.
"You three wanted to make sure this was real, right?" I said instead. "What better way to know than to ask the mayor directly?"
'Also, taking out the command structure destabilizes the entire operation. Because I'm trying to give us a tactical advantage rather than just charging blindly into combat.'
Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp all nodded simultaneously, their expressions suggesting this logic made perfect sense to them. They even pumped their palms together in that universal gesture of understanding.
'They think we're going to politely ask if they're planning to capture us. They don't realize I'm planning to put us in position to eliminate their command structure quickly if—when—this turns violent.'
"The best way not to get discovered," Zoro said, his voice low and tactical, "is to hide atop the buildings. We can move faster up there, and they won't be watching the rooftops."
'Actually smart. The swordsman continues to surprise me with functional tactical thinking.'
We climbed the two-story buildings that lined the streets, our movements quiet despite Luffy's remaining food inflation. The structures were old but sturdy, built from stone and wood that had weathered decades of Grand Line weather.
From this elevated position, I could see the layout of Whiskey Peak more clearly. The town followed a deliberate design—streets that could be easily blocked off, buildings positioned to create killzones, the whole settlement arranged like a trap waiting to be sprung.
'Whoever designed this place knew what they were doing. This isn't random architecture—it's engineered for their specific purpose of capturing pirates.'
We moved across the rooftops with silence, jumping gaps and climbing walls until we had a clear view of a larger building near the town center.
And there he was.
Igarappoi—or Mr. 8, as he was apparently actually called—stood in what looked like a town square. His ridiculous hair was even more pronounced in the moonlight.
But more interesting were the people with him.
Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday—Vivi, I mentally corrected, remembering her real identity—stood nearby, their earlier theatrical demeanor replaced with professional attentiveness.
A fourth figure approached the group—a woman who'd been at the party, tall and imposing with the build of someone who could break bones without trying.
"That's quite the trouble," she said, her voice surprisingly delicate despite her appearance. "Why did we have to go through all this effort? Make the whole party a trap for only six people? We could have overwhelmed them the moment they stepped on the harbor."
'A valid tactical question. Why waste resources on an elaborate trap when a simple ambush would work?'
Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday—I needed to stop thinking of her as Vivi before I accidentally used her real name out loud—both turned to face the woman.
"Miss Monday," Mr. 9 replied, his theatrical tone completely gone. "It's not that simple. From our assessment, they're stronger than they look."
Miss Wednesday nodded in agreement. "We reported to Mr. 8 immediately. He agreed with our approach."
The mayor—Mr. 8—reached into his coat and withdrew several papers. He laid them out where the torchlight could illuminate them clearly.
Wanted posters.
'Oh no. This is bad. This is very bad.'
Even from this distance, I could make out the images. Luffy's new poster, prominently displayed. Zoro's first wanted poster. Two others I couldn't quite see but could guess at.
Mr. 8's singing voice carried across the square as he read them aloud.
"Strawhat, Monkey D. Luffy! Fifty-six million Berri!"
'Fifty-six million. That's... that's higher than I expected.'
"Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro! Thirty-one million Berri!"
Beside me, I felt Zoro's satisfaction. The swordsman was probably pleased with his first bounty.
'Of course he is. Normal people would be concerned about being hunted by the World Government. Zoro treats it like an achievement to be proud of.'
"Dead-Eyes, Hikigaya Hachiman! Twenty-eight million Berri!"
'Fuck.'
The word echoed through my mind with profound feeling.
'Twenty-eight million. I have a twenty-eight million Berri bounty. I'm officially a wanted criminal in this world. There's a price on my head. My face is on a poster being distributed to bounty hunters and Marines across the seas.'
This wasn't unexpected. I'd known from the moment I started pirating that a bounty was inevitable. But knowing something intellectually and hearing it announced in the middle of enemy territory were two very different experiences.
"Black Leg, Sanji! Twenty-five million Berri!"
I glanced at the poster Mr. 8 held up for that one.
No picture. No last name. Just a crude sketch and "Black Leg Sanji" like he's some kind of mysterious phantom.
"What the hell?" Sanji muttered beside me, his cigarette nearly falling from his lips. "That's not even my face! That looks like a wanted poster drawn by someone who'd never seen me!"
It's almost impressive how badly they botched his poster. Did they assign the worst sketch artist in the Marines specifically to humiliate him?
Below us, the three agents—Miss Monday, Mr. 9, and Miss Wednesday—were staring at the posters with genuine shock.
"These bounties..." Miss Monday breathed. "They're enormous for East Blue pirates."
"They destroyed a Marine Base," Mr. 8 said, his voice carrying satisfaction mixed with wariness. "Just before entering the Grand Line. There hasn't been a crew this dangerous from the East Blue in the last fifty years!"
'The Loguetown Base? Is this why we have a bounty this early?'
Mr. 8 continued, addressing the three agents with the authority of a commanding officer.
"Don't judge the book by its cover! Using the party trap was the best choice. A direct confrontation would have been too risky!"
The three agents nodded apprehensively, clearly reassessing their earlier confidence.
"The boss will be very happy with such a big hunt!" Mr. 8 declared, his ridiculous hair bobbing with enthusiasm. "We should apprehend them while they're still incapacitated and take anything of value from their ship!"
But before the agents could move to execute their plan—
RUSTLE! THUD!
"OI!" Luffy's voice cut through the night like a foghorn. "Is that my wanted poster?! Let me see! I want to see!"
'NO. NO NO NO. LUFFY, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT—'
"LUFFYYYYY!" Usopp hissed, grabbing desperately at our captain's arm. "Shut up! They'll hear you!"
But it was too late.
All four agents' heads snapped toward our position. Their eyes widened as they registered our presence on the rooftops above them.
Our cover was thoroughly, completely, catastrophically blown.
'Of course. OF COURSE. Our captain can't resist looking at his own wanted poster. Because stealth and tactical advantage are less important than seeing how famous he is.'
I sighed—a deep, soul-weary sound that carried all my exhaustion with this crew's inability to maintain basic operational security.
'At least it was inevitable. The party trap failed, and eventually, we were going to confront them anyway. Luffy just accelerated the timeline by approximately five minutes.'
I stood up from my crouched position, adjusting my hat and letting my cloak settle around my shoulders.
Beside me, my crewmates followed suit—Zoro with fluid sharpness, Sanji with stylish confidence, Usopp with visible reluctance, and Luffy with complete obliviousness to the disaster he'd just created.
We stood atop two separate roofs, looking down at the four agents like some kind of theatrical reveal.
'Though I suppose if we're going to blow our cover, we might as well do it with style.'
The four agents stared up at us, their expressions shifting from shock to confusion to dawning alarm.
"You're..." Mr. 8's singing voice had dropped several octaves. "You're supposed to be unconscious in the hall. How are you—"
"Such a simple party trap?" I interrupted, letting my voice carry that cold edge that had earned me part of my reputation. "That's not enough to knock us down."
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Before Mr. 8 could respond, the sound of running footsteps echoed through the streets. Dozens of armed residents—bounty hunters, I mentally corrected—came pouring into the square from all directions.
They carried weapons of every variety—swords, guns, nets, clubs, chains. All pointed at us with the kind of professional readiness that confirmed my earlier assessment of their training.
One of them, breathing heavily from running, addressed Mr. 8 with panic in his voice.
"Sir! The pirates have escaped! They're not in the hall anymore! We don't know where—"
He stopped mid-sentence as he registered us standing on the rooftops directly above them.
"Oh," he finished lamely. "There they are."
'Wonderful timing. Really drives home how thoroughly our cover was blown.'
Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp were staring at the assembled bounty hunters with dawning realization.
"Hachiman was right," Usopp whispered, his voice climbing toward panic. "They really are all bounty hunters! The whole town!"
"Of course I was right," I muttered. "Did you think I was making up the party trap concept for fun?"
Though I suppose seeing an entire town of armed operatives is different from intellectually accepting they exist.
Zoro stepped forward on his roof, his hand moving to rest casually on his sword hilts. His expression carried something between satisfaction and amusement.
"It's a big surprise," he said, his voice carrying across the square with ease. "The first island we reach in the Grand Line is a bounty hunter's nest."
He paused, letting his smile widen into something dangerous.
"But that's okay. A real welcoming party wouldn't be complete without a fight."
Then he said it—the name I'd been waiting for him to reveal.
"Isn't that right... Baroque Works?"
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Every bounty hunter in the square tensed, their weapons coming up reflexively. Shock registered on faces, followed quickly by alarm and fear.
There it is. The organization's name. Baroque Works. Filed under 'enemies we've made before even properly entering the Grand Line.'
"How do you—" Miss Monday started, her professional composure cracking.
"I got an invitation from them back during my bounty hunter days," Zoro explained, his tone casual despite the tension. "They actively recruit personnel from the East Blue. Sent agents to find promising talent."
'So that's how he knew. Professional courtesy from fellow bounty hunters before he switched to piracy. The criminal underworld is surprisingly well-networked.'
Zoro continued, clearly enjoying having information they didn't expect him to possess.
"Baroque Works. A criminal syndicate operating throughout Paradise—the first half of the Grand Line. They use code names based on numbers and days of the week. Agents ranked by capability. The lower the number, the stronger the agent."
He gestured toward the four people below us.
"Mr. 8, Mr. 9, Miss Monday, Miss Wednesday. Frontier agents, probably tasked with processing incoming pirates for bounties and recruitment."
'Comprehensive intelligence. The swordsman did his homework back when he was considering their offer. That's actually impressive.'
I decided to add my own observation, because if we were revealing how much we knew, I might as well be thorough.
"It's quite stupid," I said, my voice carrying that analytical edge, "to use your code names so openly. Not just during recruitment, but during operations."
I looked directly at Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday.
"It makes it easier for people looking for information to connect the dots. Track your movements. Identify your organization's presence."
Though I suppose when you're proud of your rank, when you've worked hard to earn those code names, you want to use them. Human psychology trumping operational security. A tale as old as criminal organizations themselves.
I paused, then continued.
"But it's quite a normal action for humans when they take their names with huge pride. When they've worked hard for them."
'Give them that much at least. Acknowledge the human element while pointing out the tactical flaw. Show I understand their motivations even as I exploit their mistakes.'
Mr. 9 and Miss Wednesday—Vivi—exchanged glances. When they spoke, their voices carried accusation mixed with confusion.
"If you knew from the start," Mr. 9 said slowly, "why did you accept our request? Why come here at all?"
'Because our captain doesn't care about tactical disadvantages.'
But before I could answer, Sanji spoke up, his voice carrying that particular tone of exasperation usually reserved for dealing with Luffy.
"You idiot," the cook said, somehow making it sound almost affectionate. "Who would refuse the request of beautiful women when they're opening their arms so welcomingly and generously?"
'He's talking about himself. Only himself. The rest of us were perfectly capable of refusing suspicious invitations. But Sanji's priorities remain thoroughly compromised by anything female.'
Luffy stepped forward on his roof, his hand moving to rest on his iconic straw hat. When he spoke, his voice carried that particular quality that meant he was about to say something he thought was profound.
"If you wanted to welcome the adventurers of the sea," our captain declared, his smile widening, "then we'll gladly be the brave adventurers of the seas!"
He paused for dramatic effect, his grin becoming positively feral.
"And if you wanted to capture pirates... then we'll gladly deliver the 'Full Course Pirate Experience'!"
'That's... actually kind of badass.' Luffy might be an idiot, but he knows how to deliver a challenge. I'll give him that much.
Mr. 8's expression had shifted from shocked to calculating to something approaching anger. His ridiculous hair seemed to bristle with indignation as he addressed us.
"You're only six people!" he declared, his singing voice climbing with challenge. "No matter how high your bounties are, what could six of you possibly do against our one hundred elite bounty hunters?!"
'One hundred. That's their official count. Probably accurate—these organizations tend to know their exact personnel numbers.'
SHING!
I unsheathed my Barbossa sword in one smooth motion, the blade catching moonlight and reflecting it with supernatural brilliance.
Then I raised it high, channeling my will through the mystical weapon's connection to ships.
And across the town, at the harbor where we'd left it, the Going Merry began to move.
'Time to demonstrate why you don't trap pirates who come prepared.'
The ship navigated through Whiskey Peak's waterway with smoothness, responding to my will as transmitted through the Barbossa sword's ship-controlling ability. The waterway that bisected the town—convenient for ships, even more convenient for bringing artillery directly to the battlefield.
"It's too naive of you," I said, my voice carrying cold amusement, "to think we'd walk into obvious enemy territory without any kind of backup."
The bounty hunters were tensing, looking around nervously, clearly sensing something was wrong but not yet understanding what.
They haven't noticed the ship yet. Too focused on us, on the immediate threats on the rooftops. Classic tactical oversight—failing to monitor your flanks because you're focused on the frontal engagement.
My crewmates were getting ready—Zoro's hands moving to his sword hilts, Sanji settling into his distinctive fighting stance while lighting another cigarette, Luffy cracking his knuckles, even Usopp readying his slingshot despite his obvious fear.
They trust me. They don't know what I'm planning, but they trust that I have a plan.
'That's... actually kind of terrifying. The responsibility of that trust.'
I looked directly at Mr. 8, making sure he understood the lesson I was about to teach.
"One of the main rules in warfare," I said, my voice dropping to something cold and precise, "is that you don't push beyond enemy lines without artillery support."
Below us, the Going Merry finally came into view, sliding through the waterway with its cannons aimed directly at the town square where all one hundred bounty hunters had helpfully gathered in one convenient location.
The realization hit them like a physical wave.
Eyes widened. Weapons lowered slightly. Someone screamed.
And before they could scatter—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The Going Merry's cannons roared, all eight cannons on the side firing simultaneously.
The cannonballs arced through the night sky, their trajectories perfect, their timing devastating.
WHOOOOSH! WHISTLE!
I watched them fall like judgmental meteors, thinking about the absurdity of the situation.
'We came to the Grand Line to achieve our dreams. To find treasure. To help Luffy become Pirate King.'
'And here we are, less than a week into this legendary sea, already bombarding the first town we encountered that is full of bounty hunters because they tried to capture us at a party.'
As Expected, This Voyage Looks Promising…
KABOOOMMMM!!!!
…
A/N: That's it for now.
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