Chapter 110: Chaos in the Jungle
The front doors of the stark white building creaked open, and Mr. 5 stepped out into the humid air of Little Garden, his dark sunglasses glinting under the filtered sunlight streaming through the dense canopy above. His partner, Miss Valentine, followed close behind, her parasol twirling idly in her gloved hand. She hummed a light, dissonant tune, a mocking contrast to the tension crackling between them and their trailing counterparts.
Not far behind, Mr. 3 emerged, his meticulous composure betrayed only by the faint curl of his lips as he cast a disdainful glance at Mr. 5. The little girl by his side, Miss Goldenweek, strolled casually, clutching a paint set in her small hands, seemingly unconcerned with the brewing confrontation.
"Listen closely," Mr. 3 said, his voice a sharp whisper as he paused in his stride. He turned to glare at Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine. "I need you to follow my plan perfectly. No deviations, no theatrics. We cannot afford any slip-ups."
Miss Valentine smirked, tilting her head playfully. "Oh, come now. Where is the fun in perfection?"
Mr. 5 said nothing, his lips a tight line as he nodded curtly.
Satisfied, Mr. 3 adjusted his glasses and gestured for them to proceed. Together, the four agents moved silently through the thick jungle, their footsteps muffled by the dense underbrush. The path they took veered toward the river, where the Straw Hat Pirates' ship, the Going Merry, lay docked.
High above them, Sanji crouched on a thick branch, his sharp eyes trailing their every move. Hidden among the treetops, he exhaled a thin stream of smoke from his cigarette and muttered under his breath, "What are those clowns up to now?" He leaned forward slightly, careful not to make a sound, and continued observing as the agents disappeared further into the foliage.
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A Few Minutes Later: The Going Merry
The thick foliage surrounding the river provided ample cover for the four Baroque Works agents. They crouched low, peering out through the leaves at the ship moored just a short distance away. The Going Merry swayed gently with the current, its vibrant figurehead shining under the sunlight. However, an eerie silence enveloped the area; not a single sound could be heard, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Mr. 3 narrowed his eyes, studying the vessel. "It is quiet. Too quiet," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He turned his gaze to Mr. 5. "Now is your time to shine. Turn the sake barrels into explosives. If they are aboard, we will draw them out."
Mr. 5 cracked his knuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "On it," he said, his voice low and confident.
Carefully, he began to creep toward the ship, his movements practiced and precise. The underbrush rustled faintly as he advanced, and soon he was close enough to see the deck of the ship clearly. There, sitting cross-legged near the mast, was a young woman with vibrant orange hair. She was engrossed in a book, flipping through its pages with an air of calm that belied the danger lurking nearby.
As Mr. 5 studied her, his attention was caught by the sound of distant voices coming from the jungle. His eyes darted toward the source of the commotion, and he quickly retreated to the others' hiding spot.
"Well?" Mr. 3 demanded, his voice sharp and impatient.
Mr. 5 shook his head. "More people just showed up," he muttered, crouching low.
"What kind of people?" Miss Valentine asked, her tone laced with annoyance.
Before Mr. 5 could answer, the voices grew louder, and figures began to emerge from the jungle. Leading the group were two towering giants, Dorry and Brogy, their massive frames casting long shadows over the forest floor. Behind them followed Johnny, Yosaku, Vivi, Usopp, and Karoo, their expressions alert and wary.
From her spot on the deck, Nami looked up and spotted them approaching. Setting her book aside, she rose gracefully and walked to the ship's railing. "Hey!" she called out, waving a hand in greeting. "Where is Luffy?"
Usopp answered first, his voice carrying over the water. "He went to find Zoro," he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "You know how those two are."
Vivi stepped forward, her face serious. "We do not have time for that. Baroque Works is on the island."
Hidden among the foliage, Mr. 3's eyes widened in shock. "They already know?" he hissed under his breath. The other agents exchanged confused looks, but Mr. 3 quickly regained his composure. "No matter," he muttered to himself. "This situation is still salvageable."
Straightening, he turned to his companions. "Follow my lead," he instructed.
The others nodded in agreement, and with that, Mr. 3 stepped out of the jungle, his movements deliberate. "Well, well, congratulations," he called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "You figured out we were here. But that changes nothing."
The others followed him, fanning out slightly to form an imposing line.
The battle erupted in full force.
Johnny and Yosaku moved first, their swords drawn before the agents could react. They had trained for this. They had been waiting for this.
Mr. 5 raised his hand, his fingers sparking with explosive energy. He snapped his fingers, and a blast tore through the air toward Johnny.
Johnny was faster. He sidestepped the explosion, the shockwave ripping past him, and closed the distance in three strides. His blade cut across Mr. 5's chest, shallow but enough to draw blood. Mr. 5 stumbled back, his eyes wide with surprise.
"What the..." he gasped.
Yosaku was on Miss Valentine. She tried to launch herself into the air, her parasol opening to catch the wind, but Yosaku's sword caught her across the leg before she could ascend. She screamed, crashing to the ground, her blood soaking into the earth.
"You are faster than before," Mr. 5 growled, his fists glowing brighter.
Johnny did not answer. He struck again. And again. Each blow was precise, each cut deeper than the last. Mr. 5's explosions were powerful, but he could not land a clean hit. Johnny was always moving, always pressing forward, his blade finding flesh every time.
Yosaku fought with the same brutal efficiency. Miss Valentine tried to increase her weight, tried to crush him, but he danced around her, his sword opening wounds on her arms, her sides, her back. She was bleeding heavily now, her yellow dress stained crimson.
"You cannot..." she gasped, stumbling backward. "You cannot do this."
Yosaku's blade stopped an inch from her throat. He looked at her with cold eyes. "We already did."
Miss Valentine collapsed. Mr. 5 was on his knees, his chest a mess of shallow cuts, his breathing ragged. Johnny stood over him, his sword raised.
"Finish it," Yosaku said.
Johnny nodded.
Usopp fired from a distance, his shots, but Mr. 3's wax shields absorbed every impact. Vivi moved in close, her Peacock Slashers spinning, but the wax reformed faster than she could cut. Nami swung her staff but Mr. 3's wax armor deflected the worst of it.
"You are persistent," Mr. 3 said, sounding almost bored. "But persistence without power is just noise."
He raised his hands, and wax poured from his palms like a river. It spread across the ground, climbed the trees, filled the air with its thick, cloying presence. Usopp tried to run, but the wax caught his feet, his legs, his arms. He went down hard, his slingshot skidding out of reach.
Vivi dodged, her movements graceful, but the wax was everywhere. It wrapped around her ankles, pulled her to the ground. She struggled, but the wax hardened, and she could not move.
Nami was the last standing. She swung her staff down hit a wax wall. But behind the wall stood Miss Goldenweek, her paintbrush already moving.
"Color Trap," Miss Goldenweek said softly.
She painted a symbol on a leaf and held it up. Nami's eyes locked onto it. Her body went slack. Her arms dropped to her sides. Her mind was there, screaming, but her body would not obey.
"Betrayal," Miss Goldenweek said. The symbol glowed. Nami's eyes went dark.
She turned and walked toward the wax prison where her friends lay trapped. She did not fight. She could not fight. She simply walked, and the wax closed around her.
Mr. 3 laughed. "Too easy."
Johnny and Yosaku returned from their victory to find chaos. Usopp, Vivi, and Nami were encased in wax. The giants were bound. And a small girl was painting symbols on the trees.
"That is the fourth one," Yosaku said. "The color user."
Johnny did not hesitate. He crossed the clearing in a blur of motion, his blade already swinging. Miss Goldenweek looked up, her brush still in her hand. Her eyes widened.
She did not have time to scream.
Johnny's sword took her head clean off. Her body crumpled. Her paint set scattered across the ground. The symbols she had painted flickered and died.
Mr. 3 turned. His face went white. "You..."
"Your backup is gone," Yosaku said, stepping up beside Johnny. "Now it is just you."
Mr. 3's face twisted with rage. The wax surged from his body in waves, faster than before, harder than before. Johnny and Yosaku charged together, their swords cutting through the first wave.
But the wax kept coming.
It reformed behind them. Beside them. Above them. Johnny cut through a wall, and another wall was already there. Yosaku sliced through a tendril, and three more took its place.
"You killed her," Mr. 3 said, his voice low and cold. "You killed Miss Goldenweek."
Johnny did not answer. He could not. The wax was everywhere now. It caught his sword arm, pulled it down. It wrapped around his legs, his chest, his throat. He tried to cut free, but the wax was harder than steel, and his blade could not find purchase.
Yosaku was beside him, trapped in the same prison. The wax climbed higher, sealing them in, sealing them off.
"You will die slowly," Mr. 3 said. "You will suffocate in the dark. And there is nothing anyone can do to save you."
Johnny and Yosaku stopped struggling. The wax covered their faces. The world went black.
Mr. 3 stood alone in the clearing, surrounded by his prisoners, surrounded by the proof of his victory. He adjusted his glasses and allowed himself a small smile.
"Now," he said, "to finish the job."
The jungle seemed to hold its breath as the Baroque Works agents stood over their defeated foes. The flickering shadows of the setting sun danced across the battered clearing, painting a grim picture of the chaos that had unfolded. Mr. 3 adjusted his tie, his expression smug as he surveyed the destruction.
"Now that is done," he said, gesturing toward the Going Merry, "it is time to..."
A deafening boom interrupted his words, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Leaves rustled violently, and the air grew heavy with an overwhelming pressure. Before anyone could react, two figures descended from the jungle canopy, landing with a force that cracked the earth and sent a shockwave rippling outward.
The dust settled slowly, revealing Luffy and Zoro standing shoulder to shoulder.
Luffy's stance radiated confidence. His expression was not angry. It was worse. It was empty. Zoro carried his three swords, his eyes scanning the scene, cataloging every fallen crewmate, every wax prison, every enemy still standing.
"Looks like we missed the party," Luffy said. His voice was quiet. Flat. The way it got when he was done talking.
Zoro cracked his neck. "Seems like these clowns got a little carried away."
The agents froze. Mr. 3 took a cautious step back, his calculating mind already racing. "So," he said, forcing a smirk, "reinforcements arrive. No matter. You will fall like the rest of them."
Luffy's gaze swept across the clearing. Johnny and Yosaku, encased in wax. Usopp, Vivi, and Nami, trapped and motionless. Dorry and Brogy, bound like statues. The blood on the ground where Miss Goldenweek had fallen.
He did not react. He did not flinch.
"You hurt my friends," he said. "That was a mistake."
Mr. 3 laughed, but there was no confidence in it. "There are still three of us and two of you. The odds are not in your favor."
Zoro stepped forward, drawing his swords. "Three of you?"
Mr. 5 was on his knees, barely standing. Miss Valentine was unconscious, her blood pooling beneath her. Miss Goldenweek was dead.
Mr. 3 looked at his companions. His face went pale.
"Looks like it is just you," Luffy said.
He stepped forward. His fists clenched. The air around him grew heavy.
The battle was far from over. But for Mr. 3, the odds had just shifted dramatically.