Say what you will about the Germa scientists, but when it came to medical treatment, they did quick, efficient work. 427 looked in the mirror at the bandage wrapped around his head.
At least I have a distinguishing feature now. Upgraded from a mob to a side character!
Shaking his head, he walked over to his bunk and lay down. The battle for Ironreach had ended. To 427's disappointment, there was no looting.
Makes sense. This is a major mining city, not some rinky-dink town.
Still, missing out on training weights bugged him - assuming Ironreach had them at all.
He looked down his bed, to see 341 staring at him.
"What?" 427 asked, bewildered.
341 didn't respond, just looked away.
He's been doing that a lot since our last operation… Don't tell me, he swings that way?
427 shuddered. He had no problems with being gay, it just wasn't his thing.
Not that he really thought that was what 341 was thinking about.
No clue what's bothering that guy, but it's none of my business. If he wants to say something, he will.
Getting up, he stretched his back, making a satisfying popping noise.
The capital and two other cities lined Lvneel's eastern coast. Germa had wiped them out on landing. The central three fell just yesterday.
That meant there were two left, on the western end. The operation to take those two was shaping up to be the biggest one yet.
The revolutionary army is going to be pulling out all the stops there.
Despite the supposed streamroll, it wasn't that the R.A was weak - just that Germa was too strong.
At least, relative to the North Blue.
Though, that would all change if they sent a Commander.
That was way out of his pay league.
As if I get paid at all.
He doubted they would be able to get one to Lvneel that quickly though. The seas were massive in this world. In fact, most Marine problems could be chalked up to insane travel times and information gaps caused by this.
Of course, ignoring the World Government boot on their neck.
Casting the thoughts of future battles out of his mind, he walked out onto the snail. It was a beautiful sunny day, but he intended to spend it training. Tomorrow was for rest. The day after: the operation.
The routine was as backbreaking as ever. The only difference was the weights were larger.
At least there's some way to measure growth.
After his regimen, he headed off the snail. He had been meaning to add rock climbing to his workouts, and this was the perfect chance. Lvneel was rather hilly, so finding some exposed rock cliffs wasn't hard.
After a brutal climb, he called it for the day.
His rest day passed in a blur. He lazed around, spending whatever money he got on Sea King meat, and reading books in the town. One thing he hadn't realized was that Lvneel was the homeland of Mont Blanc Noland, the "liar" who found the city of gold.
Makes me wonder how much "canon" knowledge has slipped my mind.
It's not as though he could write it down, at least without being sure no one else would read it.
He ended up reluctantly taking some money out of his sea king fund, to buy books on navigation.
It never hurts to know the basics.
Besides, it's not like he'd be sailing in Grand Line weather, right?
Right?
---
The day of the final operation was upon them. Same shitty Spongebob alarm, same random coughing clone, different unnamed city.
Why do we even have these things? It's not like they ever tell us anything important.
As the snails rumbled towards their destination, 427 cleaned his rifle. He'd gained a lot from Lvneel — Fish-Man Karate, combat experience, that steel mask. Of course, the "mental breakthroughs" he had made couldn't be understated either.
Overall, 427 was satisfied.
Speaking of gains, I really need to get some more jerky before we leave.
The snails followed a similar strategy each time. Encircle and crush. Only this time, they didn't complete the circle. The harbor was left completely open.
Maybe to let the R.A leave?
After all, if they had nothing left to lose, then wouldn't they just fight to the death?
But unlike last time, two snails broke formation — and headed straight for the city.
What are they… Holy…
Like massive bulldozers, the snails smashed through the barricade, and rolled right through the center of the city. Buildings splintered, and the hideous screams sent shivers down 427's spine. He didn't even want to think about how many innocents got caught in that.
Dropping down from the snails, the clones charged through the two massive gaps in the wall. It seemed a repeat of yesterday was in order. 427 resigned himself to picking up a sword, and repeating his actions. After an hour or so of fighting, 427 thought to himself:
Where the hell are the Revolutionaries?
BOOM!
The ringing in his ears was the answer.
He picked himself up blearily, on hands and knees. The entire front lines had been decimated. It was a massive puddle of blood, gore, and dying clones. The ringing in his ears hadn't subsided. He couldn't hear a thing.
Holes appeared in the smoke and dust billowing off the road.
Bullets?
Scrambling forward like a dog, he crawled towards an alleyway, grabbing a random rifle on the way. Sitting with his back against a wall, he pressed his gauntlets to his ears. They came away sticky and bright red. To his left, clones dropped, riddled with holes.
So much for those mass produced raid suits.
His heart pounded in his chest, as he tried to slow his ragged breathing. Being unable to hear was more debilitating than he'd ever guessed it would be.
The R.A had clearly planned this final stand extensively. 427 wondered how many of their elaborate traps and maneuvers had been ruined by the two massive snails.
At that moment, he almost didn't care about the damage to the civilians.
Almost.
His hearing was slowly coming back - not that there was much to hear. Just the deafening bangs of guns and occasional explosions.
The clones had rallied after the initial blow and pushed past the alley he collapsed in.
Struggling to his feet, he looked up. The roof of the building was reachable after a short climb. Grabbing onto the tiles at the edge, he hoisted himself up. Peeking over the top, he was met with a warzone.
From his vantage point, he could see almost all of the city. It was ablaze. Blood pooled in the streets, and the smoke from fires was choking. The sky looked red.
He had an absurd thought, and almost felt like laughing:
Is this mission to "liberate" the city or destroy it?
Pulling out his rifle, he looked at the closest street. The mass of people looked almost alive, the way it writhed and contracted. The clones tore into the R.A, and the R.A ripped right back.
He aimed down his sights, and started shooting. Yes, he wanted more hand-to-hand experience, but without observation haki? That pit was a death trap.
The people who were shot didn't even see it coming. One second they fought - burned - with a grim determination. The next, their eyes rolled back with a hole in their forehead.
After about thirty minutes, the lines had been pushed so far forward that 427 had to get down and move.
His headphones were dead silent. Other than connecting to specific clones, their only use was to convey mass orders, and orders from their superiors.
He moved cautiously, ducking from alley to alley.
No chance I'm getting caught by some stray bullet. What kind of reincarnator dies that way?
He didn't get caught by a stray bullet. He got caught by something much worse.
The explosions were only the start of the R.A's plan. It was clear to them that they would not be able to liberate Lvneel. Thus, their mission switched to wiping out as much "Germa scum" as they could.
The ideal method? A flanking attack from behind.
The R.A poured out of the houses, crushing the clone line between two lines.
It was suffocating. The "training" of group combat from a few days ago? Almost worthless.
They fought like animals. 427 ducked and weaved, claws ripping chunks out of his opponents. His adrenaline surged. He didn't have time to think. Only to move.
A flash of light. A blade. Duck.
A glinting barrel. An incoming bullet. Weave.
A fishman. Strong. Stronger than him. Dodge the first punch. Lash out. Score gashes along his ribs.
A roar, a backhand. Duck underneath. Hands shoot up, through the throat.
Target dead.
His world narrowed. It was just him, and whichever target he picked next.
---
He wasn't sure how much time had passed - only that he could breathe easier now. The cracking sounds of firearms were dying down, and the explosions had all but stopped.
If 427 didn't know better, he would've thought the battle was coming to an end.
Are we good now - NO! Don't jinx yourself!
Too late. The clones to his left froze as the air vibrated - then pulsed. Blood burst from their orifices. Eyes popped. Bodies crumpled.
The perpetrator? A yellow fish-man, wearing a karate gi.
Are you shitting me? What is this luck?
427 didn't think it was possible, but somehow time slowed down even further. A named character from the series, one that he certainly couldn't defeat:
Hack.
Fish-man karate, haki, experience: he had it all.
I'm so cooked. I'm so cooked.
427 would be lucky to survive a singular punch.
I'd be lucky to survive a goddamn blink - or wink - considering who his allies are.
"How shameful. I speak with my fists, and yet none of you listen." The fish-man suddenly spoke. 427 blinked.
How the hell do you even respond to that?
He wasn't going to entertain the mad ramblings of a One Piece character. Half of them were insane to begin with!
This is what I trained in speed for: To run away!
But before he could turn, Hack blurred forward, with blinding speed. A punch hurtled through the air.
The group battles weren't for nothing. Unconsciously, one of his feet slid further back, and his front arm flew out, with all his strength, to redirect the blow.
Nagashi Uke!
Deep down, he realized this was probably the only blow he would redirect. Without a doubt, Hack wasn't going all out. Otherwise, 427 probably wouldn't even have reacted at all.
He would've just been a red smear.
With a sharp crack, his gauntlet broke along the previously made sword scar. His bones did too. He powered through the shooting pain, thrusting his other hand forward.
If I'm going to die, I might as well take this bastard with me!
"Oh?" Hack's eyes widened. He caught his thrust easily, with just one hand. At the end of the day, 427 was too weak to even consider taking Hack with him.
Damn it! A character who isn't even that strong in the series, and I can't do shit? Just how weak am I?
"Nagashi Uke, hmm? Did you take my training manual from one of my comrades?" His intentions to avenge said comrade were clear in the fist now hurtling towards 427's face.
This is it.
All of 427's senses went haywire. He was about to die.
Please!
The only thing that could save him was haki. He knew - even if it manifested - it wouldn't block the shockwave that would quite literally liquify his brain.
Still, what better choice did he have?
He screamed mentally, concentrating all his willpower on the front of his face.
Nothing.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of red.
YES!
"SPARKING RED!"
A red beam - blinding, but somehow looking almost holographic - shot toward Hack's head.
"Hmm?"
His punch halted. His arm turned a lustrous, jet-black. A textbook middle block met the beam with a deafening
KA-THOOM!
The explosion ripped 427 out of Hack's grasp, shattered both his ribs, and the bones in his other arm. As he hurtled backwards, he caught small red and blue figures flying towards the fish-man.
His last thoughts before losing consciousness were:
God bless Germa 66.