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Chapter 21: the Rescue?

(Bellamy POV)

Not long after beginning the appropriation of Crack's life savings, I found myself being very confused. Admittedly, this was not a new or even an unfamiliar state of being for me and sometimes, the cause of my confusion didn't get cleared up for a long time. In fact, I was still confused as to why Aisa had decided that trying to deep-fry fruit was a good idea. But regardless of the mystery revolving around culinary death traps, this particular conundrum confused me more on several orders of magnitude.

Why was this guy here?

Unfortunately, the cause of my befuddlement wouldn't answer me, though seeing as he was sedated six ways to Sunday, I think I could let it slide. The rest of my crew didn't provide any helpful insights either. For one, they were too busy tearing a gold jewel-encrusted chandelier from the ceiling and two, they obviously had no idea who this guy was.

But I was certain that anybody who had watched the show would agree with me on at least this one thing...the man currently lying there in a drugged coma represented an enormous opportunity. He also symbolized a huge risk, especially if the World Government suddenly decided that they did care about a lost asset, instead of going about their usual modus operandi of simply replacing everyone on a whim. However, if I could pull this off, if I could extract the knowledge slumbering within this man's brain, I could easily quadruple the strength of my crew at the very least.

I was getting giddy just thinking about it.

“I’m not liking that smile, captain.” Rivers interjected before I could start cackling like some cartoon villain. “I’ve seen it before, and I didn’t like what came after.”

“I’ve seen the future, Rivers. And it is…glorious!” I proclaimed, though for some reason that seemed to mildly upset Rivers. I didn't care.

"It's...it's like Skypiea all over again!" he wailed, curling up into a ball.

Leaving behind a trembling Rivers in Mani's comforting embrace, I quickly sought out the master of this mansion. Crack looked quite upset when I dragged him over to one of his guest rooms, though I used the term lightly, seeing as the windows were barred and the door could only be unlocked from the outside.

“Tell me, Mr. Crack, what is he doing here?”

“My men found him washed up on our shores, roughly two weeks ago.” He quietly murmured by way of explanation. Ever since we had demolished his elite guards, (and hadn’t that been a surprise?) he’d entered a state of gloomy resignation. It made him much more easy to work with, but also depressing to be around. “I thought he’d be useful like the others, but he was dehydrated and in a terrible state. So before I could get really started on turning him, we needed to treat him first. Then when I was about to get to work, you guys showed up.”

“Do you have any idea who this man is?” I asked, but I received a headshake in return.

“He was delirious and hallucinating when we got to him. Kept mentioning that he was a high ranking government agent.”

“Anything else?”

“I think he mentioned that his name was…Nero.”

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We were definitely…rescuing him. Yes, rescue was the right word. Definitely not shanghaiing him onto my crew so that he can teach them, and more importantly me, the rokushiki.

It was mentioned somewhere, that in order to be counted as a real member of the CP9, one had to master all six of the rokushiki. The keyword here being ‘master’. Nero only mastered four, not having trained his shigan and tekkai to the levels one would need, in order to be able to use them comfortably in a fight. Plus, even in the disciplines he had ‘mastered’, his level of mastery was significantly lower than that of Lucci, as had been showcased when the pigeon man caught up to a fleeing Nero in an instant.

However, he had still been a new potential recruit for the CP9, meaning he had to have at least rudimentary knowledge of the training methods for all six of the rokushiki, if only in theory. When one considered just how vague the explanations of the rokushiki were in the show, it wasn't unlikely that trying to recreate them from scratch would take me way too long and way too many broken bones. Getting someone to teach me was obviously the more intelligent choice.

I had no idea how all those self inserts and other characters in the wider universe figured these things out so quickly on their own. Sanji recreated geppou pretty quickly by simply desiring to get away from his...admirers. Good for them I supposed, but I was going to spare myself the pain.

I just had to make sure that Nero wasn't going to leave before teaching us everything he knew. Though fortunately, I already had an idea…namely, the good old fashioned carrot and stick approach.

I was going to ply him with alcohol, money and the offer of a safe haven, something I was certain he would appreciate even more after his dreadful and unjust imprisonment, before making my pitch. Also, I shouldn't forget to take lots of pictures, such that if he ever did decide to leave, I could ensure that he wasn't going to be capable of returning to the World Government. It wasn't like I was planning on ever using those pictures. In an ideal world, they would never see the light of day, but a small deterrent never hurt anyone.

Life was going great, I reflected as I motioned for Muret to take care of the comatose Nero. She really was a good doctor so I had no doubt that he would be up and about in no time.

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Life was going great until this guy showed up. Obnoxiously incompetent, pitifully corrupt and the prime example of why nepotism should be discouraged: Trash, thy name was Spandam.

By the way, hadn't he been supposed to be recovering from the events at Enies Lobbie or something? Or fired for incompetence and gross negligence, resulting in the total destruction of one of the three sacred strongholds of the World Government?

“Prudes, u fimi mufu moo. Hanover tea Drogba rocker bar…vision oudin mandy millet upily.” Spandam haughtily mumbled into the bandages covering his mouth and somehow, just somehow his sneer was clearly visible through the mass of cloth around his face. He was wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy, but I could see his sneer as clear as day. What the fuck?

Also and perhaps more importantly, pardon?

“His excellency, the director of CP7, Spandam is saying: Pirates, you find myself in a merciful mood. Hand over the drug baron Crack A. Barrel and all the…evidence found within his manor and I may let you leave with your pitiful lives.” It was only after the aide translated, that I could make sense of the jumble of syllables the senior government official had let out. Good sir, that was a very well trained translator you had there.

“Uhm…alright?” I told him, scratching my head. Frankly, I didn't need the money and I had gotten something much more valuable out of the entire affair, which I needed to transport to my ship immediately. Under the circumstances, it would be best to just get Nero to safety and away from his old boss, before the guy noticed something amiss.

“His excellency also informs you, that your ship is confiscated until further notice and that your crew will be held for questioning.” the translator continued. Did he pick his aide based purely on how slimy his voice sounded? I felt dirty just listening to this guy. And as for this ridiculous demand…

“Nope, not happening.” I answered him, folding my arms.

“His excellency reminds you not to forget your place. You are a lowly pirate, while his excellency is on official business for the world government.” the aide sniffed, simultaneously assisting Spandam in waving a small fan in front of his nose.

“Well, I’m on official business for the Royal Warlord Doflamingo. Wanna bet who is more important to the World Government? You or Doflamingo?” I retorted, not giving an inch. Honestly? I didn't think that Spandam could do much to me at the moment, as I would wager almost anything, that the World Government valued Doffy more, especially this close to the Summit War. Spandam was only in a position of any responsibility at all because of his father Spandine, who at least had a competent bone in his body. If it were not for his father’s influence, the consequences of Spandam's spectacular failure would not have been limited to merely being ‘demoted’ from commanding the CP9 to being in charge of the CP7. In all likelihood, his turning up here was just meant to be another way for him to ring up some easy merit and reclaim his old position.

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But how had he known that Crack A. Barrel may be out of commission soon? Despite how easily we had taken him out, he had been a drug baron in control of an entire island and an affiliate of one of the most dangerous figures in the criminal underworld. Surely news couldn’t have spread this quickly, as we had only set foot on St.Poplar this morning…he had to have gotten the news before we even left Water Seven or otherwise he wouldn't have made it here on time. Was their intelligence service this competent? Or as was more likely, had someone tipped him off, like Dellinger or...maybe even Doflamingo himself? But why would he do something like that and did it even matter?

If I hadn’t already been planning on escaping from underneath Doflamingo’s thumb, this would have done it. I promised myself then and there, that as soon as I was strong enough, I was making the feathered bastard pay for this. Whether or not Doffy gave the order personally didn't matter in the slightest, because Dellinger was part of his main crew. If I had been the old Bellamy and my crew hadn’t gotten their upgrades, we would have likely struggled very much not to die against Crack’s bodyguards.

That, and the fact everybody had underestimated us, were the reasons we survived. That we'd been underestimated in and of itself was not very surprising, as we hadn't ourselves known what we were capable of before we fought Crack's guards, but it was the principle of the matter. The Doflamingo Pirates had shown that they were perfectly willing to use Bellamy as a discardable chess piece.

And let me tell you, I absolutely hated this feeling. If life was to be a game, I was not going to be pawn but a player instead.

“His excellency offers you the following deal, though undeserving of his understanding and mercy you may be. Only one of your crew shall be interrogated tonight. That black girl will do. You are to send her to his excellency’s ship tonight.”

“Absolutely not!” And this sad excuse of a living being was not going to dictate terms to me!

“His excellency…your EXCELLENCY!!!”

But before I could punch the little shit, Rivers just broke what few intact bones Spandam’s face had left, the butt of his rifle making a very satisfying crack upon impact.

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In the end, there wasn’t much I could do. I refused to hand over a member of my crew on principle, as apart from the fact that this would fatally cripple my leadership, it also felt really dirty to even consider.

Killing all the witnesses was also briefly considered and then discarded soon after. For one, I would have had to kill everyone on St. Poplar, as I was certain that at least Crack’s goons and their associates would know, that the Bellamy Pirates had been invited to the mansion today. And if they knew, the whole town knew. This on its own was already not feasible with the forces currently at my command and Aisa didn’t need to see that. It would benefit us far more in the long run, to leave her first killing as a non-negative and maybe even a positive memory by highlighting the ‘you saved your crew’ aspect and not taint it with further bloodshed.

Plus, Morgan (the guy in charge of the newspaper) probably already knew, as he seemed to know everything. Thus, even if I killed Spandam and managed to eliminate all witnesses on the island, my face would still be on tomorrow’s newspaper, likely on the front page.

So I settled for bluffing my way out of this.

“Well, I guess this leaves me with no choice, director Spandam.” I said, crouching before the man until I was eye-level with him, a pistol idly spinning in my hand.

“I’ll have you hunted down like a rabid dog for this!” the director spat out, also spitting a glob of blood. Surprising how breaking even more bones improved his articulation, the wonders of One Piece physiology.

“That doesn’t really give me many reasons to spare you, director Spandam. How are you going to have me hunted down if you’re not alive?” I kept my voice intentionally very conversational, as I had often heard it said, that the delivery was far scarier if you could threaten someone's life in the same tonality as if one were to talk about the weather. And as it turned out, there had to be at least some truth to the matter, if the rapidly spreading puddle between Spandam's legs was any indication.

“Hieeek! You wouldn’t dare!” Spandam shrieked, trying to crawl away from me and failing, because River's whack, and Hewitt's subsequent violent beatdown, had turned his legs to jelly.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m not sure you have noticed, but I’m a pirate you know? And we pirates aren't exactly known for being merciful to those who threaten us, are we?” I nodded at the pile of cooling corpses in the corner of the courtyard. “You can ask them, if you’re not sure.”

Spandam’s face went deathly white, as he finally seemed to realise that he was not talking to someone like Luffy. Then he started sweating perfusively, his shifty gaze flying everywhere, even as his brain went into overdrive trying to find a way out of his predicament. I could see the smoke coming out of his ears before his eyes refocused on me, all the calculations apparently being finished. What came out was truly an eloquent rebuttal of any and all responsibility.

“Uhh, I was joking?”

“Joking?” I asked, my voice going completely flat.

“Yes, of course! You helped the government to bring in the drug baron Crack A. Barrel! Nothing else. You’ll be rewarded, of course.” He was lying through his teeth, and everyone knew it. It was not even particularly difficult to tell, as his incompetency was so pervasive of his character that it also extended to his ability to lie. If you didn't believe me, you should check out his comments, following the summoning of the buster call on Enies Lobbie, for reference.

“Can I get that in writing?” I asked and he froze like a deer caught in the lamplight.

Yeah, not going to be that easy, buddy.

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A few hours later, we were on our way back to Water Seven, with half the valuables from Crack’s mansion, Crack himself and Spandam’s sword Funkfreed (ostensibly purchased by Muret with the other half of Crack’s valuables). I didn’t believe that a piece of paper would dissuade Spandam or his father from coming after us. It wouldn’t even be the first time that the government just ignored uncomfortable evidence. However, it was my hope that this document was going to make things just that little bit more uncomfortable, which would hopefully make him look for easier targets. And if it didn't work?

I had discovered that I didn't really care in the slightest. Even if we ended up on his shitlist, I definitely ranked below Luffy and his crew. Additionally, I was nominally under Doffy’s aegis at the moment and if I wasn't mistaken, I think there was a clause saying that crimes committed by subordinates of a Royal Warlord were to be judged more leniently.

If Doffy was going to use me like a discardable chess piece, I had no compunctions about using him for my own ends.

And going by the usual way the world government did things, they weren't going to be sending their higher ranked officers after me directly, not least because they were stretched really thin as it was and it was only going to get worse after the war with Whitebeard. Plus, I was not nearly enough of a threat for them to allocate their valuable and limited resources to hunting me down. After all, unlike Luffy I hadn't shat on their reputation by storming Enies Lobbie and surviving a buster call.

They would probably slap a larger bounty on me and call it a day. Speaking of which, I wondered if the rest of my crew was going to get bounties too. Hewitt, definitely, for the crime of shoving his boot up where the sun don't shine mere moments after Rivers broke the idiot's jaw, but I wasn't sure of who else. Rivers and maybe Muret, when it was inevitably revealed that she had taken Funkfreed?

Speaking of the elephant-sword, Funkfreed seemed a lot happier with Muret and after she fed him some bananas, as well as the remaining fruit in our hold, he’d become very docile. Furthermore, he appeared very pleased to be our new nurse slash doctor’s assistant.

I wondered what Nero’s reaction was going to be, if the first thing he saw upon waking up was a saber-trunked elephant?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to do anything about Nero. Rather, everything fell to the wayside not half an hour after sailing into Water Seven’s port, because a message from Doflamingo had arrived.

And he was here to deliver it.

Personally.