The days before the Conference opened passed in the careful, unhurried work of preparation.
Finn moved through Mary Geoise with various Marine commanders, familiarizing himself with the rebuilt sections, noting what had changed and what hadn't. Most of the royal families had arrived by now, their delegations filling the hotels and the corridors of Pangaea Castle's social square with the particular noise of powerful people performing their power at one another. The stragglers were still en route. In a few more days, the Conference would open as scheduled.
He met Neptune in the city, the Fish-Man king large and somewhat out of place among the marble architecture, his manner carrying the quiet tension of someone who had traveled a long way for an obligation he did not entirely look forward to fulfilling. Fish-Man Island had been a member state for over two centuries, paying its tribute annually and receiving its discrimination in return. Things had improved considerably in recent years, largely through the Marine's economic relationship with Jinbe's operations, and Neptune had decided that improvement was reason enough to make the trip. One hundred kings, eight years apart. Fish-Man Island deserved to be seen and counted.
He did not know what the Marine was planning. Finn saw no reason to tell him. They exchanged pleasantries, Finn repeated his earlier assurance about personal safety, and Neptune accepted it with the gratitude of a man who has learned to take what reliable support is available.
Doflamingo was a different matter entirely.
He arrived through the bubble elevator with Gladius at his shoulder, and when he stepped out onto the stone of Mary Geoise's surface, he stopped.
He stood there for a long moment, not moving, his expression cycling through things that his face did not ordinarily permit. Gladius, reading the atmosphere with the instinct of a loyal subordinate, said nothing. The flamingo feathers on Doflamingo's coat shifted in the breeze.
"Young Master?" Gladius said finally, quietly.
The word pulled Doflamingo back. He exhaled, and when he smiled again it was the familiar wicked curl, but with something underneath it that had not fully settled.
"It's nothing," he said. "Just remembering things." He glanced down at the ground beneath his feet. "Twenty-seven years go by faster than you'd think."
Gladius looked at him.
"Right here," Doflamingo said, looking at the stone. "Not somewhere far away. Right here, seven steps southeast from the elevator exit. That's where I was standing." He paused. "Twenty-seven years ago. I was eight years old. I had killed my father with my own hands. I came here carrying his head, weeping, and I knelt on this ground and begged them to take me back."
Gladius said nothing. There was nothing to say.
Doflamingo lifted his eyes to the massive structure of God's Abode rising behind Pangaea Castle, its towers catching the light.
"Take me back there," he said, his voice dropping into something colder. "That was all I wanted. I thought that if I just went back, everything would stop hurting. That was the place I was born to be." The coldness sharpened into something else. "But they rejected me. Same blood, same lineage, and they looked at me like I was something that had crawled up from the street. So I went back down."
He was quiet for a moment.
"From that day, standing on this exact spot with my father's head in my hands, I made myself a promise. That I would come back. Not begging. Not weeping. I would come back with the power to make every single one of them understand exactly what they threw away." He turned slightly, looking at the square. "I stopped caring about bloodlines a long time ago. About noble birth and divine right and all of it. That's all rot. There is only power. There is only the winner." The cruel smile returned, fully formed now, nothing uncertain left in it. "I'm not here to reclaim anything. I'm here for revenge. Simple. Clean. I want to grind them into the ground with my heel and let them understand that I was the winner all along."
"And after?" Gladius asked.
Doflamingo's expression moved through several things and arrived somewhere very still. "Then I'll show them one last kindness. I'll cut off their heads. Better that than what they did to me, sending an eight-year-old child down into the gutter." He looked at Gladius. "At least dying in Mary Geoise preserves some dignity. Believe me, I know the alternative."
"Then I'll be your sword," Gladius said simply.
"Fufufufufu. I never doubted it."
He stood there a moment longer, letting whatever had been pressing against the inside of his chest breathe out into the open air of the holy land. It was not enough, not nearly enough, only the doing of it would be enough, but it was something.
Then he rolled his shoulders, shook the feathers back into place, put his hands in his pockets, and walked forward into Mary Geoise with the lazy, splayed gait of a man who has decided the world owes him nothing and intends to take everything anyway.
"Come on," he said. "We should pay the Admiral a visit."
His role in the coming operation was not primarily about combat power, though he would not have admitted to limitations in any other context. The Marines had strength to spare. What Doflamingo brought was something specific and irreplaceable: the Birdcage. His String-String Fruit, developed over thirty years into something that could seal an entire island, cut off all communication, trap every living thing inside its threads and prevent a single piece of information from leaving until the people managing that information decided to let it.
During the Mary Geoise operation, no news could be allowed to escape before the Marine and CP had finished their work. No emergency transmission to allied powers, no courier ship, no carrier bird. Mary Geoise would need to become an island unto itself, and Doflamingo was the only person alive who could make that happen cleanly.
So yes, he would be on the front line. He had insisted on it, and Finn had agreed without much argument.
He found the Admiral in the yard of the Marine's residence, which was not where he had expected to find him. Finn was standing on the lawn facing a patch of open ground, and as Doflamingo came through the gate he registered the scene: a sphere of pure darkness sitting on the grass like a hole cut through the world, roughly two meters across, absorbing the morning light around its edges.
Doflamingo recognized it. He had watched Finn use the Dark-Dark Fruit in Alabasta. He understood what he was looking at.
What he did not understand was why Finn, instead of throwing something into it or pulling something out of it, then took two steps forward, and stepped into it himself.
And then kept going.
The darkness swallowed him from the feet up, steady and unhurried, like watching a man walk calmly into deep water. Within five seconds, nothing of Finn was visible. The dark sphere sat on the lawn, entirely unremarkable, giving no indication that the Admiral of the Marine was currently inside it.
Doflamingo stared.
Gladius stared.
"Admiral!" Doflamingo called, in a voice that was caught somewhere between professional alarm and genuine personal concern.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~