"You again?! What the hell are you doing here this time?! I'm telling you, I'm not falling for your tricks again!"
The moment Brian showed up at the cell carrying wine and food, the Golden Lion's expression twisted. No one liked being made a fool of, and he'd had enough of it.
"Don't be so nervous. I'm just here to talk today." Brian smiled pleasantly, gesturing for the jailers to bring over a table and chairs. Soon, the aroma of fine wine and food filled the air.
The Golden Lion squinted at him suspiciously. What's this brat scheming now?
Outwardly, though, he sneered. "Talk? What could a Marine and I possibly have to talk about?"
"Oh, a lot," Brian said lightly. "For instance, where exactly did you hide all that treasure you plundered?"
"Hmph. Judging by what you're eating, it's all Celestial Dragon tribute. You don't look like a man who needs money."
"Who ever complains about having too much money? Look at you — ruled half the New World and still wanted to rule the whole damn world."
"…Can't argue with that."
They chatted idly, back and forth. The jailers, long accustomed to this strange ritual, tactfully withdrew to give them privacy.
As soon as their footsteps faded, the Golden Lion leaned back against the wall, his legs splayed, and growled, "They're gone. Now spit it out — what do you really want?"
Brian took a leisurely puff of his cigar and said, "I've been wondering… why did you go to Roger back then, searching for the Ancient Weapons, instead of going straight to Water Seven for Pluton's blueprints?"
For a moment, the Golden Lion froze.
Water Seven?
His eyes widened.
Brian raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know Pluton was built there? You really think those shipwrights destroyed the blueprints? Come on — no sane craftsman would burn their own masterpiece."
"You're saying… the blueprints are in Water Seven?"
The Golden Lion's body trembled. Whether from rage or excitement, even Brian couldn't tell — but through his Observation Haki, he could hear it: the pirate's heart hammering wildly, like a war drum.
"So you really didn't know," Brian mused, smirking. "And here I thought you teamed up with Roger because you were in love with him."
"Shut your mouth! I ain't no damn pervert!"
The Golden Lion's roar echoed through the prison, louder than it had in days.
"Oh, come now, no need to hide it. You risked your life storming Marineford to save him. You threw away everything — your crew, your freedom — all for Roger. If that's not true love, what is?"
"YOU LITTLE BASTARD! I'LL— I'LL TEAR YOU APART!!!"
"Relax," Brian said lazily. "You're not going anywhere. Even if I pissed on you right now, what could you do about it?"
Then—he actually did it.
He unzipped his pants and, through the bars, did exactly that.
A hot stream splashed over the Golden Lion's face and hair.
The pirate's eyes went bloodshot. "AAAAAAAAHHHHH! YOU FILTHY MARINE BRAT! I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!!!"
Chains rattled and clanged as he thrashed, the sound of his fury filling the entire floor.
Brian zipped up calmly, looking satisfied. "See? Still can't touch me. Anyway, I'm bored here — might as well visit you every day. Gives me something to do."
Laughing heartily, he turned and strode away.
From nearby cells, mocking voices rang out.
"Hey, Golden Lion, how's that piss smell treating you?"
"Hard to believe the mighty ruler of the New World's getting humiliated by a Marine kid!"
"Poor Golden Lion — almost makes me feel sorry for you!"
"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP!!!"
"HAHAHAHA!"
Their cruel laughter echoed endlessly through the depths of Impel Down.
And as it did—
the Golden Lion's shoulders trembled, his face shadowed by his hanging hair.
But behind that curtain of golden locks, his eyes burned with something more than fury.
Humiliation, hatred… and a cold, savage resolve.
He would never forget this day.
And when he finally broke free of his chains—
the world would burn.
The stench of piss clung to him; the Golden Lion gritted his teeth and tried again to break his legs.
"Roger, you idiot—why did you have to go off and throw your life away?" he muttered to himself.
"Even if those treasure-hunting fools run rampant on the seas, they're only a nuisance. New Era my ass—pirates are the rulers of the ocean. Soon enough, I'll make you all understand. Hahaha!"
"Golden Lion, are you still awake? You bastard, stop talking to yourself," came the jeers from nearby cells.
Day after day, Brian's routine was simple. By day he tormented Shiryu, enjoying the stunned look on the swordsman's face; in the afternoons he brought a table piled with fine wine and food to rile the Golden Lion. After the meal, he never failed to piss on the pirate's face through the bars.
The Golden Lion's fury accumulated, rising hotter with each passing day, ready to explode at any moment.
Finally—half a month after Brian began his visits—he broke his own legs ahead of schedule and slipped free of his cell.
"Hahaha!"
"I'm free at last!"
The Golden Lion laughed toward the sky. Though he had forced his legs to snap, he fashioned crude prosthetics from the knives and swords he'd grabbed from the guards. He wasn't in any hurry to leave—he had to reclaim the famous blades Sakuragi and Mokuga, and he wanted to personally gut that Marine brat who'd treated him like a joke.
"Golden Lion—take us with you!" a prisoner begged.
"Hey, Golden Lion—kill me, please!" another wailed.
"Fools. Stay here and rot," the Golden Lion spat. He had no mercy; Infinite Hell's worst torment was its loneliness—there was no escape, no release. Left to exist and rot, prisoners wasted away in despair.
Alarms shrieked. Guards manned every chokepoint with weapons drawn. In the surveillance room, jailers frantically scanned the monitors for the Golden Lion's whereabouts.
Brian burst in on Hannibal, spewing questions. "How could the Golden Lion escape?! This prison is supposed to be a mythic fortress—escape is impossible!"
Hannibal looked utterly bewildered. "Vice Admiral Brian— I—I don't know either."
Magellan said flatly, "Did he cut off his own legs?"
"Doesn't matter how—seal off every exit. Don't let him get away," someone barked.
Brian was spitting with anger, visibly agitated. To Magellan and Hannibal, his panic made sense. From Brian's casual talk they'd learned he was slated to be named Governor of the West Blue. Although that post carried less prestige than a Headquarters vice admiralcy, it was real power—far better than loafing about as a desk officer.
Hannibal guessed Brian feared today's chaos might derail his career.
"He's still in the prison somewhere—search everywhere, don't leave a nook unchecked," Brian ordered.
Then he strode out with Shiryu at his side. His plan: wait outside, lure the Golden Lion into a staged brawl—grandstanding for appearances while actually controlling the situation.
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