Chapter 8

… …

Joke Section

America

“So, we discovered the special region. What are we going to name it?” Dude 1

“Um, sir? The last time we did that we got a lot of harsh feedback hundreds of years later. *cough* *cough* Columbus. Besides, I don’t think we really discov-” Dude 2

“How about the New World?” Dude 1

“Sir, we’re quite literally standing on the New World. It’s called America. Our country.” Dude 2

“Ah yes! Of course! Then how about the Special region?” Dude 1

“In all honesty sir, that sounds ridiculous.”

“Ah! I know!”

“What is it sir?”

“You know how we call our planet ‘Earth’?”

“…yes…?”

“And technically it means dirt?”

“Sir, I really don’t have a good feeling about this…”

“We’re going to call it Dirt 2!”

“Please tell the president that America will call it the Special Region.”

Joke section over. \

… …

Marseille, Southern France

The old city’s lights were dying as the sun began to set. The ocean lights dimming as the yellow sun sank under the Mediterranean waves. Marseille was a beautiful city with an equally, if not more, grand history.

It was a city of artists, of freedom, or rebellion and harmony. Having resisted the authority of many grand central figures throughout history including Julius Caesar himself. While the city was, in the end, absorbed in the Roman Empire, the city enjoyed the privilege of freedom not seen elsewhere across the vast empire.

It was only in the 15th century that the port city finally joined the Kingdom of France, and even then under the condition of being administrated separately in order to keep their liberties. For centuries the city stood as a place of freedom, of expression…and love. While few know the grand history of this city, fewer still knew the horrors which happened under the darkness today.

For all the beautiful shine reflected on the ocean lights, the city had no such glow when night fell. Combined with a high population living barely above the poverty line, drug and substance abuse became the norm…only to be quickly followed up with mugging and theft as the nation entered a recession in its economy.

Individuals became groups and groups became gangs. Organized criminal activity flourished in the city of freedom and liberty taking advantage of the city’s attitude towards individualistic expression.

It’s culture, it’s choice, it’s their right…after all.

In an ironic twist of fate, the city had benevolent ideals as they accepted immigrants from across the continent. Trying to, attempting to, be a haven for all those who had lost their way and place. The thing they had not considered was that the city was not prepared to take in the immigrants…and things went from bad to worse.

Of course, in the daylight when tourists flash their cameras and the people marvel at the sea, there seems to be no such pain. It is only once they leave…once the outsiders have gone back to their cushy hotels that one can see, hear, and at times feel the pain.

A young girl, barely eight in age, hobbles down the cobblestone path down to her home. Her day at school had not been one of great excitement or anything…but still she dreaded to go home. There was…no, she just didn’t want to go home.

She rubbed her arms as she neared her home as she made it down the final steps of the hill. It was not a pretty place, she knew. Just from walking down from where the school was to her home she could tell that it were two different worlds. One where the roads were paved and the walls were polished with marble…and then there was her home.

Held together by wavy iron walls called ‘Containers’. Then there was that smell as well. She didn’t exactly know what caused the pungent odor in her street but she didn’t like it. Her friends didn’t like it. Calling her stinky from the scent on her clothes, her bag…and often times her herself.

Yet that was not the reason of why she dreaded returning home. She trudged, unwillingly, up to the rusted door before raising her hand up, ready to knock. She had asked mama for a key but she had refused. Saying that she would lose it like how she had lost her pens and homework. She didn’t think she would lose the house key. After all, the house key was just too important to lose, wasn’t it? Still, she had to listen to her mother…

She didn’t dare ask her papa.

“A fanabla!”

She heard her papa cursing her mother from inside the house.

*slap!* Closing her eyes, she could see mama being slapped across her face as she tried to get away from him.

*slap!* She could see mama making her way to the kitchen, grabbing the kitchen knife. Always hidden behind the spice rack.

“Giuro che ti prendo e ti ammazzo. Lo giuro!” Her papa roared.

“Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo!” Her mama screamed back. Sounds of pans being thrown, glasses shattering, and senseless screaming filled the air. She had heard enough…there would be nothing to gain by going inside.

She gripped her arm in pain, in phantom pain, as she stepped back from the door. Unfortunately…she tripped. Tripping over her own clumsy feet as she fell back onto her bum.

*crash*

*…*

There was silence. She knew her mama had heard her, her papa had heard her.

“Stellina?” Her soft mama’s voice sounded from beyond the door.

*creak…* The door slid open revealing her mama. She looked into her mama’s eyes…before she began to shake. Shake uncontrollably as she shivered, her hands unsteady. She couldn’t look…she didn’t want to hear.

“Oh my baby, did you come home?” Her mama asked. “How was school darling? Tell me all about it.” Her voice, her sweet caring voice, stopped her breathing. She couldn’t…she couldn’t.

Her mama squatted down to her level before enveloping her in a hug as she remained frozen. Her eyes peeled open looking inside the house for traces of her papa.

It was at that moment, she believed herself to be delusional as she witnessed the supernatural. Something invisible yet completely in sight. Inside the house, just beyond the door, the space was twisting into an oval shape. Colors and shapes blending into the center of the singularity in a twisted, contorted, manner…until it burst out, spitting out a person.

A tall woman with light pink hair, almost white, dressed in a black formal suit in this scorching heat. She landed lightly on her feet, right foot first, before she straightened herself up and looked into her house, through the open door.

The stranger met the eyes of her mother, her father, and lastly she turned her head and met mine. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she realized that something was very very wrong. She was not supposed to see those eyes. Eyes so different from her own…the color, the orientation, and even the expression…and yet she had no doubt.

The moment they looked into one another, she realized that this was her.

The other version of her gave no time to ask or elaborate as she walked towards the house in full confidence. She could only make out the smile…no, it was a sickening smile. A smile of promised pain. A smile filled with agony. The cheeks of the stranger, she realized, was glistening.

Pain

Betrayal

Determination

*thud*

Her mother fell on her bum as she tried to hurriedly close the door on the stranger. To save herself from whatever fear she must be feeling. Leaving her, her own daughter, out in the sun.

Her mother wasn’t quick enough. Strong hands gripped the frail tin framed door as she wretched it off of its hinges and into the house. Without another word…she walked in.

Sickening sounds of human bones breaking, limbs twisting followed. Weak, rugged voices begging for mercy only to be quickly cut off with a cruel wet sound followed with unintelligible gurgles. Soon…even those wore off to silence.

Carefully, she stood up and walked towards her door. In any other day she would dread to enter this house…but curiosity won over her dread. Ever so lightly she pushed against the frame. Cringingly slightly at the creaking sounds.

As light poured in…she saw…nothing. She opened the door completely to find an utter lack of anything she had heard. There were no blood stains. No broken and torn off limbs. No broken furniture or ripped carpets. Everything was exactly the way things were…except that there was no one.

She was alone…she was finally alone.

No matter who asks, she would swear she never heard anything.

… …

POV Pudding

She had to hunch over and catch herself as she felt the staggering loss, the pain, her sister was projecting through the bond. It wasn’t intentional…if anything her sister was trying to hide this. Purposefully dulling the connection they shared through their souls and silencing herself.

Attempting the mute herself…like she always did when she was out at sea. During Syrup’s days out on the sea, Pudding had little to no idea on what her twin could be doing or feeling. Whatever mind control she put herself under had managed to cut herself off from nearly all emotions whatsoever. Whenever she tried to connect to her, it felt like talking and reading scratches off of a wall. That is to say, not effective.

This was different…as if the dam holding back years of sorrow, pain, and feelings had been broken through. The pressure finally mounting over the walls to break down the barrier holding it back.

She felt it all at once as she was knocked down onto her knees as her head tried to make sense of the emotions she was forced to feel. Emotions which did not belong.

Parricide

What?

Satisfaction. Loss. Pain. Contentment. Worry.

What was happening?

Shame. Fear. Shame. Suspicion. Shame.

What was her sister doing?

Blood. Clean the blood. Don’t let them see. Burn it away.

Where is Syrup! Where is she?!

Hide

… …

She found her curled up behind an alleyway where the light did not reach. In all purposes an abandoned street where there was no trace of people for entire blocks. A place hidden from view.

On the ground, on the trash, she laid as she constantly twitched in anguish. Refusing to respond, to reply, or to do anything but try remain in her pitiful state.

“Oh Sysy” She pulled her sister off of the floor before propping her up against a wall. Letting her sit and finally getting a look at her face.

Her hair which was so neatly pulled back had gotten loose. Wet curls stuck to the side of her face. Dust, droplets of blood, and other unspeakable specks had made their mark on her skin. Her eyes were red, puffed, and unfocused like a dead fish. With her shudders, the twitches, she looked as if she barely had the energy to even sit.

Tears. Dry tear tracks. Signs that she had been crying.

Her sister didn’t cry. She simply didn’t.

What had happened here, in this foreign world, such that something like this happened?

A gut-wrenching sob made its way through Syrup’s mouth as another burst of emotions wrecked through both of them. First in her sister’s before echoing in hers.

“You can’t let this continue Sysy.” She held her sister’s face in her two hands, forcing her to recognize her. “I can help you. I know I can help you. You have to let me in.”

Her twin’s blank eyes focused as it gained a semblance of life before turning away to the side. Syrup tried to hide it once more but she had felt it before it was buried under.

Shame.

“I need to see Syrup.” She continued, urging her. Turning her head once more to force eye contact. “But you have to let me in otherwise I can’t get through. You have to trust me, please!”

Her hands began to change as it began to go through the sides of her sister’s head like a thick liquid. Her Devil fruit powers activating to search for the memories.

From as early as she could remember, Syrup had never talked much…and after she had gained the abilities of the Memo-Memo-No-mi she had increased the distance between them. Protecting her mind like a fortress…never allowing her to see. Forbidding her entrance.

Even in this state, she rejected her. Her hands met a wall of solid will…a will to protect and hide the memories beyond. A hidden vault locked away so deep…that Syrup herself had wished to forget, locked, and then broke the key.

Yet the vault was broken. Unintelligible darkness seeping through the cracks as it infected the memories around them like a plague. It was spreading…she had to act fast.

“I won’t say that I don’t care about what’s inside there Sysy, because I do. I care because I am your damn sister! No matter what I see…no matter what you are hiding, I promise I will never think different of you. You are my sister, here and forever.” She tucked her head on her sister’s shoulders as she begged her to open up.

If this continued, she truly may lose her sister here and now. She was changing…too fast. She was losing herself.

“So please…please let me in.”

A single twitch was all the indication she had before her hands sunk into her brain…she saw…and she screamed.

… …

??

A small child huddles into the corner of the dimly lit room as the broken shards of the plate press deeper into her thigh. Still, it is better than leaving the room. For she knows if she’s out of sight, both of them will come for her. Their obsession, their hate, their love. It’s always overwhelming in the worst of ways.

Her mother and father scream on and on. Screaming, yelling, and from there it only escalates. Cruel words she doesn’t understand are yelled across the room as hands are balled into fists.

Her father strikes first. A slap across the jaw of her mother as she flinches…but she doesn’t back down. She was never one to back down. Her mother strikes her father back before he grabs her hands and the two wrestle across the room. Chairs are overturned and the house is broken further. Too many times they had been too close so that she had to shuffle away from the dueling pair.

Suffering in silence…praying to be invisible.

…

Father returns from his job too late. She recognizes what happens right away. His face is too red, his breathing too hard…and his smile too crooked. In his hand is an empty bottle in which is tries to pour its non-existent contents into his mouth. When he finds none, he looks for a target to blame.

He finds my mother. He finds the girl.

Mother may have spirit but she was never a fighter. A bruised mother watches in silence as father comes down on me…striking my face over and over. Her vision darkens as she realizes that she could not open her eyes. She hopes it will return…she was scared of the dark.

She wakes up to her father hugging her limp form begging for her to come back. He says he’s sorry. He says it wasn’t him. He says he loves her.

Empty words she’s heard too many times.

…

Her father leaves for work overseas. It’s expected that he won’t be home for a couple of months. For a short while, it seems as if life seems better. Without father, mother does not fight. Without father, there is no pain.

And yet it seems that life is not for her.

It seems that the worst things in life come free to her.

Mother cares for her. She loves her. But other times, she is cold to her. She looks at her with eyes she recognizes as contempt. She recognizes those eyes…wishing that she did not exist. Wishing that she was free of her, free of the chain holding her to the man she despises.

But she doesn’t worry. After all, all mothers love their children…don’t they? Maternal instinct, she’s learned from school. She won’t doubt it. She doesn’t doubt it. Family is the most important thing, she’s learned.

Family sticks together, family loves each other. Family is forever.

…

A man comes to the house. It’s not her father.

She breathes a sigh of relief but her mother pulls her arm. She drags her, pulls her. Her arm hurts, mother’s nails dig into her arm as it draws blood. She cries but her mother shushes her angrily.

She pulls her up and then pushes her into the bedroom closet.

“Be a good girl and be quiet!”

The doors shut and she hears fumbling and chains. She pushes against the doors but finds it locked. She struggles against it trying to escape but she finds that it doesn’t budge.

She gives up as she cries, cries, and bangs against the door. She apologizes to her mother not knowing what she did wrong. She puts her eye against the crack and looks in shock at the man and her mother.

The man offers her mother cash.

Her mother offers her body.

This day she witnessed infidelity.

…

The days spent inside the closet increased as the days go by. She’s learned to stay quiet. She’s learned to not look. She’s learned to grow accustomed to the dark. She’s learned to be a good girl.

But no matter what she doesn’t do, she cannot help but overhear the words shared between the ‘men’ and her mother. There is one customer who frequents her house. A younger man who is dressed well.

He tells her mother that he cannot marry a woman who already has a child.

Even in the dark, she could feel her mother’s eyes facing the closet.

Furious.

…

Her mother strikes her.

A slap across the cheek.

A fist into the gut.

Pulling her hair.

It becomes more frequent as she witnesses her mother’s wrath. She’s scared. She’s scared. She hasn’t done anything. She’s been a good girl.

She doesn’t like this.

Her mother was supposed to protect her from her father.

…

Father came back. He works later into the night, often times not returning for the day altogether. Mother says he found a girl outside. She sneers in disgust.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Mother doesn’t stop meeting with the man. He comes over on days father is away. Mother tells me to not tell father or otherwise he will beat her. She agrees.

She’s too afraid of mother to disagree.

…

Father returns home early. She catches mother and her new lover in the act. There is screaming, there is yelling, and there are threats.

The infidel is thrown against her closet as the lock breaks. As the infidel attempts to flee, she frees herself from its confines and run deeper into the house. She looks out the window to see the infidel running, fleeing…for his life.

Her father chases after him…but he stops. He takes something from his hip, aims, and…

*BANG!*

With the loudest sound he has heard in his life, the infidel goes down. Crumpling to the ground like a doll with its strings cut. He doesn’t move again.

Father turns back to the house. He pushes against the door but the door is locked. Mother must have locked it.

She hears mother screaming, wailing, at the death of her lover. She hears mother approaching. She is scared.

This isn’t mother. Mother wouldn’t hurt her. Mother wouldn’t hit her.

Her father roars in rage outside. He threatens to kill her mother. He threatens to go through with it if she doesn’t open the door.

Her mother finds her and grabs her by the hair. She is dragged to the living room as her mother pins her down to the floor.

She blames it on her. She blames her father’s acts on her. She blames the acts of infidelity on her. She blames the death of her lover on her.

She is hit. She is slapped. She can’t breathe…there is so much pain. Her face is full of cuts as her mother’s nails scratch across them again.

In her haze she looks towards the locked door. Perhaps father could save her. Father loved her after all.

He said he’s sorry after all. He said it wasn’t him. He said he loves her. He said he wouldn’t do it again. Family had to be trusted.

She bites down on her mother’s hand as her mother screams in pain. She scrambles up and dashes to the door in hopes that her father is still right behind the door. She slides the lock out of place to the sound of her mother’s warnings, her threats, and her incoherent screams.

It is only after the door opens she realizes her mistakes.

His face is too red, his breathing too hard…and his frown too crooked. His breath tells it all as it smells like toast.

Her eyes widen as father raises his ‘gun’ behind her. She hears one last scream…

*BANG!*

Something collapses behind her.

She looks back to check the unmoving form of her mother.

She hears a scream…she realizes that it is hers. She runs, she flees. Deeper into the house, into the dark. She runs into the bedroom where uncountable sins were committed. She find the closet in which she had freed herself from.

She rushes into the dark without hesitation. She closes the doors hoping that the locks were still there. She prays that he doesn’t find her. She prays that she is invisible.

Her prayers go unanswered as light pours through the doors as two strong hands grip around her throat.

They push hard, constricting around her neck. She can’t breathe. She can’t see.

She can’t feel.

Something inside her stopped moving.

She’s just so so tired…

The last thing she hears is her father’s apology.

The empty promises she’s heard too many times. Perhaps, this may be the last.

… …

She pulls her hands out from Syrup’s head as she collapses onto the floor. Bile crawls up as she throws up across the damp concrete floor.

Her sister remember her previous life…this was the same world. Her sister was a reincarnation. Oh mama, that explained so many things.

In all her experience with her devil fruit, she had never once witnessed the death of the person she was reading the memory of. It was a chilling, sinking, feeling…as something otherworldly gripped her soul. Unlike the warmth mama’s felt…this was too cold. Synthetically cold, with no heart or emotions.

Another round of bile made its way up as she emptied the contents of her stomach once again. She wiped her mouth on her sleeves, spit out the remaining gunk, before she turned to see her sister.

She was awake now. Broken…was awake. The shaking of her eyes, the uncertainty in them. The fear of judgement. Not of her past…but recent.

Syrup’s disappearance.

The blood.

It all made sense.

“You killed them, didn’t you?”

The silence was all the answer she needed.

Parricide. She had committed parricide.

A word so haunted in their family. The mere thought of killing family…it was downright disgusting.

But that was because it was their family, wasn’t it? She had seen…she had witnessed those pieces of shit in Syrup’s memory. Did they deserve to be called family? Did they deserve their title of mother and father?

No.

Syrup, the sneaky sister that she was, must have felt her emotions and read parts of her thoughts. She could visibly see the shoulders sagging in relief, the tensions leaving her body as her tear ducts began their works again.

“Oh come on you little baby.”

She went up to the toughest, bravest, and kindest person she knew before enveloping her head in a full hug. It was only moments later before both of them began sobbing, bawling like a baby.

In relief? In pain? In regret?

In truth, she didn’t know what she was feeling as well. Only that she hadn’t lost her sister this day.

… …

Charlotte Linlin

This wasn’t the best of days. All of a sudden her little Syrup just teleported away in the middle of the United Nations meeting, causing mass panic in the room.

Security running in and delegates screaming in a dozen different languages all sorts of things. Ranging from:

Where is she?!

Get the security to check to perimeter!

What’s going on?

I need to use the toilet now!

Then after she had conjured up a bullshit about her going back home because she felt unwell, Pudding decided to follow up with her sister’s stunt right after she had gotten off stage. Well…she couldn’t really teleport but temporarily erasing the last 10 seconds from everyone’s minds and taking that chance to sprint out was technically the same thing for normals.

Well…someone had to stay behind to fix the mess.

Mothers.

*sigh* She’ll have to find them later. She could tell something was wrong with both of her girls’ emotions states (she could sense through their souls) yet nothing was dangerous. In all honestly she wanted to throw the finger at a number of these old dudes, GTFO, and find where her daughters were and envelop them both in a big hug.

Yet…she was Queen. She also happened to be the only figure of authority (high enough) who could represent Totta Land. Someone had to be responsible. At least she should refrain from going up on stage and saying something about how her dog stepped on a bee or something.

“As I said, this is non-negotiable. The Empire has declared war on us and we seek to end it. Until they return our people, this war will continue.” She repeated for the millionth time. Each time she answered her voice was getting just the slightest bit louder…accenting the words.

Maybe this time they’ll understand.

It felt as if each country was asking the same question but just in their own language. Frankly it was getting…rather irritating. This was why she hated politics.

Truly.

“You will butcher thousands just to find your own people?!” The delegate of Japan raised his voice at her, pointing a rather chubby finger. His advisors (namely the special region folks) quickly hushing at him and forcing him to sit back down.

“Of course. They are my people and I have promised them safety. Should I fail, I promised them vengeance. That is how it has been since its founding. Do not question me about this again. As I said, this is un-negotiable.” She huffed. “In fact, I see a rather lack of motivation from your side to find your own people. Tell me…what is your motive for this war of yours. It certainly isn’t a rescue operation.”

“You won’t be speaking so smugly after our missiles reach your side! Speak with respect!” It came from a country she didn’t recognize and most certainly from someone she didn’t respect.

Fuck this meeting. She’s had enough.

“My country’s founding principle was based on rebellion. Rejecting the wishes of the world and making a beacon of our own. The Union stands for a union against the established order. It’s a union of Pirates. Since when have you seen pirates comply with government demands? Or is this world truly that different? Perhaps a demonstration would be in order?” She said each word extra slowly and exxtrrraa politely…but with enough venom lacing her tones.

“Are you threatening us?” The Chinese president growled.

“Hmm…” She looked down at the man before bending down to look closer at the man who supposedly ruled over a superpower. “Do you feel threatened?” She scoffed as she turned her head slightly, as if looking at a naughty child.

She found no reason to keep civil with barbarians like these. Moreover to a world who would find their passageway to the special region cut off in the near future. Basically…not her problem.

The room descended into an uproar as the delegates, through their translators, heard what she had said. Threats were thrown as nations argued with one another. Fingers were thrown and she could feel the anger in the air. She could hear the blood pumping in each and every one of them as their pressure rose to dangerous levels.

“Now now, I’m sure her Majesty has her reasons for stating such things. We do not know her world and we certainly don’t know their circumstances.” The US president, Dirrel, tried to de-escalate the situation. “We have already agreed not to fire on each other, have we not? Then why don’t we try and find some ideas on what we can do together in the Special Region.”

Look at this sly fox. Changing chaos into pressure for your own agenda. A true politician indeed.

“Your Majesty, wouldn’t you agree that the JSDF, as magnificent as they have been, are insufficient to establishing order in the Special Region?” He asked.

“Objection!” The Japanese delegate nearly screamed.

“I’ll allow it…” Ban Ki Moon said tiredly. Poor man. Having to deal with these politicians must have drained the life out of him.

“I haven’t the slightest clue on how the Japanese are handling their issues in the region Mr. President.” She then proceeded to wink at the Japanese delegate who looked extremely red (with anger). “But I have noticed your Blue helmeted, ‘UN’, peacekeepers on the other side of the gate. Is there really a need for more of you?”

“Well of course! Our analysis shows that with the current manpower, the JSDF and the UN could only police Alnus and nearby villages. It is not enough to push deep into the Empire and hold it.”

“Dunno. This is sounding more and more like an invasion to me.” She chuckled. “Didn’you say this was a rescue operation like an hour ago? Get get a couple of your special forced through or something.”

“That option has been considered however recently we have come to learn of the existence of ‘apostles’. Beings who possess godly strength and…are apparently immortal” the American president countered. “The level of firepower from a squad, however skilled, has been deemed not enough for a being who could survive decapitation according to our sources.”

In the front row she felt a specific apostle of death and insanity flinch. PTSD? Horniness? God, the girl had problems…those were two things which should not go together in both a sentence and an emotional state.

“So…you’re basically tell me that you need hundreds of tanks and however much more men to potentially face down a particularly strong dude who can speak without the rest of his body.” She pretended to contemplate that sentence. “Yeah sorry man, just doesn’t compute up here.” She pointed up to her head. “Practically full streak wins man. 283/1/1/ ratio. You should trust what I say.”

“Of course…” She chuckled, letting a bit of her chest grumble to echo through. “Things are different if you have a different objective Mr. President. Perhaps you may be considering…annexation?”

“Objection!” An American delegate beside the president shot up. Sadly no one gave him a second glance.

“Ahh, but it would make so much sense though, wouldn’t it? Once you annex the Empire and hold it, the Special Region is basically yours. All those resources…quite tempting, aren’t they? Especially with how I heard you guys using up your iron and oil. The special region must seem like a treasure chest full of gold.” She looked around the room as she continued.

“Let me just say one thing. Hands off. Not forever…just temporarily. As I’m sure you know as you’ve been reminded…” She pretended to count with her fingers. “Just around 20 times in this meeting along. The Union is waging war against the Saderan Empire. The JSDF and the UN can fight alongside us should they wish. Makes sense since they lost their own as well.”

She narrowed her eyes as she met the eyes of all the major players in this hall before focusing on the American president. Just a tiny tiny bit she let her conqueror’s flow…just enough for people to feel the weight of her words.

“But don’t even think about offering help to the Empire. No weapons. No annexation deal. No protection. This is between us and them. Not you. Not your people. Not your morals. Keep you heads, nose, hands and dick out of this business until ours is concluded.” She took her eyes off the poor president who seemed to be having breathing problems. “After that? We’ll leave and you guys can do whatever you want. Conqueror’s rights and all. So,”

She brought her lips back up to a smile as she reigned in her aura as the room lightened up again. Several members releasing their breathe they had no realized they had been holding.

“Do we have a deal?” Her words were met with silence but she didn’t need to hear anything. Her haki sensed what she expected.

Relief

Affirmation

Ambitions

In the eyes of the snakes gathered in the hall, the overwhelming majority reflected a resounding support of her words. She could sense it…the deal was accepted. It seemed as she wasn’t the only one sensing the mood of the hall as the ends of the lips of several delegates rose just the tiniest bits.

Eyes contacts between ally nations were made, already forming new schemes. Hushed whispers, hurried notes. A small but sure sign of elation. It was impossible to miss.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the Saderan princess break down into tears.

… …

Sadera. Akusho

Doflamingo

The heavenly demon walked through the streets of the slums. Slums…he had seem many slums across the seas of the New World but this one set a new low. Not a single challenger…not a single one smart enough to realize the threads closing around their throats…to choke their lives.

Not a single one smart enough to realize that perhaps it was time to pack up and leave.

Under the orders of Linlin he had brought his family to the ‘special region’ to begin their plans of taking over the capital. He had initially set up many plans to avoid detection…to stay hidden to not rouse the suspicions of the Empire…and yet it seemed he was too paranoid. Even for Paradise standards, this nation was truly horrible in keeping its peace.

To have an entire section of the capital completely abandoned…left with gangs, underworld elements, left to fester and rot. Were they so blind that they did not see the influence it would have on the people? Did they really not see the corrupting powers of the underworld? Or perhaps they were simply so arrogant in their stone towers that they could not believe that some lowly gangs could bring about the downfall of a nation.

Such a shame.

His eyes gleamed behind his pink sunglasses as his smile grew. “Hah…ha…ha!” His laugh echoed darkly as he thought of these foolish people.

Downfall of Castle and Country

A single woman could bring down an entire island union…seduce the second prince, assassinate the king, and ignite a civil war between the factions and watch the nation descend into madness.

The same could be said of the underworld elements…which was why Linlin had chosen him for the role. It was impossible to completely eliminate human greed and corrupting natures…so it was better the direct them instead and guide them to minimize the damage and perhaps…get some not so clean jobs done discreetly.

He was feared across the underworld. Nicknaming him the Emperor of the dark, the Joker. He funneled weapons and arms across the seas, burned drug sources to raise their prices, brought down entire nations (whom were heavily antagonistic towards them), and disrupted order in the World Government…his arch nemesis.

Following Linlin had given him the chance, the power, and the resources. Their families were allied and his crew was unofficially subordinate to hers. Not that she called on him to do much of anything. Usually it just so happened that he had something to gain by doing exactly what Linlin required of him.

“Clean it out.” He muttered as his goons rushed into the whorehouse with guns blazing. Soon after, shots were fired and both the prostitutes and customers came out running for their lives. He let them…after all they weren’t the goal.

He walked through the blood-soaked door to see corpses littering the floor. Gang members. One was still alive, struggling against the hold of his captors as he stared up at him defiantly.

“Bessara will not let this go! He will kill you! You have no idea who you have messed with!” He roared.

“Oh yes. Bessara. A man who truly cares for his men, of course.” His voice was drenched in sarcasm, drawling out each word. “ I’m sure this Bessara of yours will come here with all his men. In fact, I’m counting on it.” He twitched his fingers as an invisible thin thread cut through the gang member’s throat and across his neck. With a wet *thud* the head fell to the floor.

“Throw the dead bodies outside. Let him know…I want him here by tomorrow.” He chucked darkly as he looked out one of the windows.

A perfect view of the Royal Palace.

Perhaps there was a reason why customers paid so much for this whorehouse after all. Fucking right in front of the King.

…

POV Bessara

The tall man sat back on his soft cushions as he heard the latest of news regarding his lands. Scratching the beard on the side of his head as he began to question the things he was hearing.

In the known history of crime lords, very few came close to him name…Bessara. Bessara the Crime Lord. Bessara the tyrant. Bessara the King of Akusho. Among the crimelords who shared and carved up the district of Akusho, it was his name which was most prominent.

Bessara.

After all, he was the “worst among the crime-lords”. He knew that. Others knew that. Nobody messed with him or his family as that was the rule of the streets…his streets.

At least that was what it used to be until some new upstart decided to raid his brothel and take it for his own. Apparently the ‘newcomer’ came from beyond the gate if the rumors were to be believed. Commanding his men(?) of demihumans never seen in these lands. The man himself, calling himself the Joker, stood at a height to tower over giants.

Another world indeed.

He had heard the rumors of the people from beyond the gates. One side bringing forth the men in green. These green men who wielded magic items which wielded thunder to kill men in an instant. As for those from the other side…well, the only thing that he heard was that they were monsters. Ugly bastards probably.

What was most infuriating, however, was the fact that this other-worlder had took what was rightfully his…in his fucking city. His brothel in the smack center of his domain. It didn’t matter if the bastard was from another world or not. He would learn what it meant to mess with Bessara.

After all, no matter what sort of bullshit weapon they had, nothing would beat his rule in the city. He had the manpower to pressure the very district into submission. It was how he kept his rule over this shithole for so long after all.

“Gather the men. We go tonight!” He barked at his men as they scuffled away in fear. It looked like the district needed to be reminded of who this place really belonged to.

…

It was pitch dark as him and a hundred of his men quietly slipped out in the dark as they made their way to the brothel. Dragging their feet along the dirt to carefully avoid tripping and causing too much noise, they managed to approach the brothel unbothered.

With their eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness, he signaled to his men as they drew their knives and swords as others took out their unlit torches, ready to set fire to whatever threat laid within. He was just about to order a rush into the building when…

*slick* … *thump*

A sickly wet sound echoed in the silent streets as a hundred heads turned to see what had happened…only to see one less head among them. The unmistakable stench of copper, the sudden stickiness under his boots, and utter complete silence…

*rolls*

A decapitated head rolled right up to his feet as blank eyes stared right into his. Mouth open in shock, eyes which had not been quick enough to register what had happened…and a cleanly cut neck.

“It’s a trapp!!” He roared as his men began to panic. Some took it as a signal to run straight towards the brothel door, hoping to seek shelter inside and take down their attacked. Some turned tail and left, bolting for the end of the streets while others stood shell-shocked as they comprehended the silent death of their comrade.

“Heh…heh…hehhh!” A dark deranged laughter echoed in the darkness as he felt goosebumps rising on his arms. There was more to that laughter than amusement…his years as a mob boss felt it. Someone was deeply enjoying this. He couldn’t see who had made the sound much less where it had come from.

“Show yourself!” He barked into the darkness, hoping that the fool would be stupid enough to actually do as he told. Surprisingly, it did. A single window on the brothel opened as candlelight basked them in a dim light.

A tall figure stood in front of the light, which only made it possible to make out his figure but not his looks. But the figure itself was enough to give him the final puzzle piece of who it was. Just from the outline, he could tell that the man was massive. Having the hunch down to barely fit through the window frame, strange metallic eye-wear which reflected red off of the candlelight like a demon, and a strange coat with feathers…

This was the Joker.

“Heh…heh…heh!!” The deranged laughter began again as it scraped across his ears like nails across a chalkboard.

“Shoot him!” He yelled as his bowman sprung into action. Arrows were nocked in a single second before they were shot loose. A short whistling sound later…

*snap* *snap*

“You didn’t think that would actually work, did you?” A horrendously deep voice replied, the sound reverberating in his chest. “Who would walk to their own deaths, after all? Hmmm? I take it back actually, I see an example right in front of me.”

He saw a long finger twitch slightly…

*thump*

And he felt someone fall onto his back as a wetness spread across his lower back. He shirked away as he turned around to see what was behind him…only to see yet another one of his men lose his head before slumping to the floor.

“Eek!” He couldn’t feel his legs…*crash!* He fell onto the floor as a wetness spread around his crotch. He couldn’t care any less.

He had to get out of here. He had to run away from this demon. He looked up to see his men fleeing for their lives, screaming, yelling, and most of all doing all they could to get as far away from this man as possible.

He should have stayed. He should have listened to the rumors of the other worlders. These were monsters…monsters whom humans had no chance against.

“No! Wait for me! Take me with you! 100 Gold! 200 Gold!” His voice grew hoarse from the screaming as he begged one of his men to come back…but before they escaped his sight…he saw silver lines illuminated in the dim light and…

*spurt* *spurt*

Dozens of his men were cut apart into ribbons, exploding into blood and gore…unrecognizable and no longer distinguishable between each other. The screaming intensified as the ones who had survived ran even faster. Hoping that their feet would carry them away from certain death.

He felt bile crawl up his throat as he hunched over in his kneeling state to empty his bowels…again as again as his brain continuously conjured up the image of men being torn to nothing.

As his mouth tasted like nothing but acid, he felt a shadow go over him as he looked up into the face of the demon…it looked nothing like what the stories told him as a boy but he was never more sure of it. There was nothing else in this world which would wear that smile, the moving veins on his forehead, as he did.

“Demon…” He whispered out.

“Heavenly Demon” The demon whispered back, giving him a full grin which radiated more pain, rage, than any joy the expression was meant for.

A twitch of the demon’s fingers and he felt his sight go white in unimaginable pain. He couldn’t feel his arms…he couldn’t feel his legs…

They were gone…severed… he had just managed to recover any form of coherent thought when with a final movement of his fingers, his world turned upside down to see his torso laying in the vile dirt.

“You’ll serve as an excellent example Bessara.” How he wished he had never had his insufferable ego.

… …

Akusho was in an uproar the next day as severed limbs of the infamous crime lord, Bessara, hung limply from silver strings across the town. On the brothel in which the mob boss once owned was his head…still showing the full agony in which he was feeling when his killer decided to give him mercy.

It was agreed unanimously among the remaining three crime lords of Akusho to surrender all authority to the newcomer. They may be greedy and their hands may not be clean but but good was gold once your head was off its shoulder?

They had a good sense of self preservation after all.

… …

Geneva, Switzerland

Lake Leman

Many miles from the United Nations, the ambassadors and representatives of Totta Land were given a fairly large house by the Lake for the duration of their stay. While they had failed to find any suitable housing for the giant queen, her majesty herself had stated that she was fine with sleeping on the ground by the lake, next to where her daughters were staying.

The pair had returned later that night with both of them looking worse for wear. To physically…but she could tell when one’s soul had taken a beating and it looked like both of them had been beaten black and blue.

Naturally, being the mother that she is, she inquired about what had happened…she wouldn’t hide or lie that she was disappointed when both her daughters had refused to fill her in. Still, she managed to get a promise out of Syrup that she would explain everything once this whole fiasco was over…and that was enough, for now.

She took no joy in sadistically opening up her daughter’s wounds to sate her own knowledge and search for the truth. Her curiosity and worries can wait until little Syrup was able to share them on her own. She knew that her little baby trusted her…it just worried her as she knew that Syrup didn’t trust herself.

Still, things were getting better. Syrup was healing (in her own way), Pudding was helping…and things were looking up. After a decade of war, the New World was finally a place she could call ‘Peaceful’. Peace, for the first time in 800 years, reigned in the New World.

So with nothing better to think about and her worries shoved into a corner for later, she simply laid back on the grass slope as she watched the small waves of water splash against the stones…and soon she found herself looking up at the night sky.

So at night, there she lay, thinking and looking up the star filled sky.

She was back. Back to the world she had thought she would never see again.

She had thought about this impossible moment for decades and imagined it would be different…but now that she was here, she found that she was not amused, impressed, nostalgic…or anything.

Perhaps many years ago she would have found an excuse for herself to return to this world or try and influence the future…but now, she found that such things were no longer of interest or of concern to her.

She had a nation and a family to protect after all. This world’s business was its own, no matter if it was once her own or not. This world would either find its answer in avoiding certain damnation or it would simply cease to exist.

She found herself amused at the idea that she truly did not care about the future of this world at all.

Just a couple more days of keeping up appearances and she could go home. Hopefully nothing stupid happens while she’s away.

Huh. Some idiots showed up.

Her level of worry at this point dropped down into the negatives. She expanded her color of observation to observe the intruders…this was some fine late night entertainment.

…

POV Archer. CIA West Operative

*crunch*

The leaves under their boots crumpled as they made their way through the dark gardens and into the lodging area of the Totta Land representatives. They had prepared their night vision goggles but with the night illuminated by the reflection of the moon on the waters of the Lake, it seemed rather useless…it was already too bright for their comfort after all.

He scrunched his eyes as he held up a fist to his side. All movements ceased as his team came to a halting stop and guns were raised.

“I sense movement, 3 o’clock. Confirm?” He murmured into his shoulder with the inbuilt mic.

“Roger. 5 Unidentified target. Armed. Movement shows patrolling the areas. Possibility of more in the area.” Lancer replied. “Shit. It’s the Kommando Spezialkräfte.”

The Kommando Spezialkrafte…the Swiss Special Forces Command. They were the Commando of the Swiss National Army, trained elites for all sorts of high risk situations…including anti-terrorism which this one would count as.

“Captain, if we don’t go in now, we lose our chance.” Lancer reminded him. “The higher-ups had made it clear that this has to be done.”

“Shit. It’s too risky to take them on!”

“The higher-ups told us that the house manager was already paid off!”

“That was the house manager. They said nothing about the guards.”

“Well fuck”

“We eliminate the ones in front of us, slip in, and then slip out.”

“There’s not enough time!”

“The more we waste our time, the less likely we are to succeed. The guards are there but with any luck, they might be all.”

“Unlikely.”

“You got a better idea Captain?”

“…Keep silent and keep watch. Saber, you take Magician and go around but don’t let the Swiss guards out of your sight. You’re watching for further reinforcements.”

“Spread out and keep low. Each of you aim for a member from the right.” In hushed and deliberate movements, they lowered themselves onto the ground as they aimed their guns, the special scopes of their guns illuminating the moving Swiss guards as white against a black background.

“On my mark…”

He held his breath as he steadied his aim. The cross mark focused right on the head of the target.

“Fire” Forgive me.

Five simultaneous shots were made as five targets slumped to the ground. Unfortunately, it seemed as though these were not the only guards as suddenly alarms were raised as red light bathed the entire area as yelling in French and German as a dozen Swiss commandos turned around the corner to see their dead brothers.

Incredibly bright flashlights swept across the areas as…

“Shit…” One of which washed over him…before coming back and focusing.

“Ennemi détecté!” The commando all but screamed as the garden lit up in gunfire.

…

“I must say this is very fascinating.” Pudding laid back on her bed as they listened at the sound of gunfire echoing from outside.

The den den mushi on the bed began rattling off in multiple languages. Orders, threats, plans, random screaming…it was all there.

“The Americans, Russians, and the Chinese. That’s who I’m getting right now.” Pudding declared, her mouth making an extremely smug expression, looking almost like a cartoon cat.

“They’re disrupting our designated sleeping time.” Syrup was sitting cross-legs on the soft white bed, dressed in a bathing robe. “I thought I deserved today’s sleep.”

Pudding reached over before pinching both sides of Syrup’s cheeks before pulling them. The said girl tried to pry her sister’s fingers off of them and barely succeeding. Rubbing her sore cheeks (damn Germa augmentations) she stared blankly at her twin as her observation haki told her things she did not want to.

“You’re not going out there.” She said flatly.

“Oh hell I am!” Pudding exclaimed before she grabbed her sister’s hand and promptly tried to drag her to the balcony. “It’ll be fun! And you can take your mind off of that.”

“No. No more today.” The admiral shook off her sister’s hands before slipping into her bed and pulling the sheets over her head. “If you’re going out, then do it alone.”

“Fine!” With a pout, the Totta ambassador walked over to the balcony, dramatically opened the glass sliding door, before stepping out.

“… ….*sigh*…” Under the sheets, the 5th admiral frowned as she checked the state of her eyes. Still slightly puffy. She didn’t want to do anything else today…she really didn’t.

Unlike herself…she just felt so drained today. So drained of life and energy. She knew she could fight just as well as any day but she just didn’t feel it today. No motivation…no reason.

Yet her sister provided the reason didn’t she? And unfortunately she was technically here as her sister’s bodyguard.

Yelling a couple of muffled swear words into the pillow, she forced herself up. Blinking back the remaining tears once that memory resurfaced, and grabbing a black jacket to pull around her shoulders before she made her way over the balcony before jumping over its edge.

“I know you would come Sysy!”

She simply stared blankly at the flying bolts of metal as their guards faced off against three nations’ elites.

“Are we stopping this or escalating this?” She asked her sister. Her only reply came in the form of a clearly Evil™ Smile.

… …

Archer

“Alright, alright! Everyone stop! It’s way past bedtime and I’d like to get this over with!” He watched along with at least 20 others (of varying nationalities and allegiances) as the target walked out the front door followed closely by her sister.

He was able to recognize the target immediately. After all, who in this world had three eyes other than her?

The remaining Swiss Commandos went crazy as they tried to drag the ambassador back into the house, to safety, while the ambassador somehow managed to shake them off before walking right into the middle of crossfire.

He’s been warned about the sister of the ambassador but truthfully, she didn’t look all that impressive. A tall and athletic build, perhaps, but anyone with a half decent fitness plan and good genes could look like that. Her posture was slightly slouched, she didn’t have any weapons on hands, and honestly she looked half asleep.

Not a threat. His mind automatically assessed before turning to the real target.

Charlotte Pudding.

The gunfire stopped immediately as she made her way into the middle of the bullet-ridden garden. She looked around the little area as she surveyed the dead bodies lying there. Mostly the Swiss guards, some of his good men, and some from the bastards of the Chinese and Russian special forces. He recognized a Chink and territorial Russian when he saw one, and this was it.

He had already sent communications back to headquarters of the existence of different factions who had probably thought the same thing they did…or almost.

“Look, I’m out here now. Could you get over with whatever you guys had to say so I can go back in and sleep? I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I need my 8 hours.” The girl blabbered on as the sister behind her silently did a face palm.

*Bam!*

A silenced gunshot rang as he saw, in clear detail, a bullet collide directly with the ambassador’s head. In that instant he thought of a million scenarios, the most prominent of which was the potential backlash of such an event.

It was a common rule to not attack the diplomat. To not attack someone who came under the banner of peace…not to mention the someone of the Royal Family especially when they were passive.

Before the bullet could even hit the floor hit gun was up as he pulled to trigger at the Russians who had fired on the girls. Somehow it seemed the Chinese had the same idea as they began to pour lead onto the Russian sector of the garden.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Everything had gone so so wrong. This was supposed to be a quick in and out after delivering an invitation to the ambassador and the queen. It wasn’t supposed to end in a fucking declaration of war!

If things got bad and they were discovered on the scene…things could potentially go very very wrong. Inter-dimensional war level wrong. Judging from the reports of how trigger happy these barbarians seemed to be…the possibility seemed ever more likely.

“… worry ….fine…” RATATATATATATATA

“Ser…eve…dy…stop….ring…” RATATATATTAA

“OK EVERYBODY SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Heads turned once more towards the girl as she screamed to get their attention. She had her hands by her side and was stomping…wait what?

The ambassador was perfectly fine. Not a single scratch on her despite clearly seeing at how the spark of the bullet hit her head.

Wait

Bullets weren’t supposed to spark off of hitting the head of a person, weren’t they? They didn’t bounce off either, nor should bullets be crushed like a pellet and drop to the floor while the said target stands like she didn’t feel a single thing.

“Alright, first of all…” She put out her right hand to the side as light gathered around it, forming it into a very familiar shape. He watches in fascination as a handgun was formed out of literal thin air.

RAtATATATATtTATATA

Most likely from the few remaining Russians, a hail of bullets hit the ambassadors and the admiral behind her but they didn’t even flinch or take a step back. They didn’t turn away or even shield their eyes as hundreds of bullets bounced off of their bare skin. Ignoring not only the piercing power of the bullets but their very kinetic energy.

This was madness…what was he seeing right now?

“Lethal or takedown?” The ambassador shrugged at her sister behind her.

“Takedown, I have questions for them.” The sister replied in a language he couldn’t understand…but it seemed as if the talking was done as she flicked something on the side of her gun before raising it towards the Russians.

Silenced bursts of blue light erupted from the barrel of the gun before the darkness returned once again. What was left was unmoving Russian troops…breathing, but unquestionable unconscious.

“Alright, should I memory read or do you want to interrogate them?”

“I’ll go through them first and you can check afterwards.”

“Hmm…a waste of my talents, but alright. Should we call Mama?”

“Mama already knows.” The taller girl whispered something into the shorter one’s ears before she perked up and addressed them once more in English.

“All of you here are hereby under arrest. Attempting to resist will result in death!” Her cheerful expression and tone did not match what she was conveying.

*sigh*

Everything about this mission just went so so wrong.

… …

POV Sergei

He was here for hours…tied to this chair next to the corpses of his dead comrades. All of whom had succumbed to the torture the crazy girl had put them through. Unable to endure it, they had chosen to bite their own tongue.

Still, he persevered. He would find a way out of this…he would get out of this place, kill the crazy bitch and her sister, and be welcomed home a hero. A hero of the motherland.

“I can sense you going through your delusions, you know?” The ambassador sat right in front of him. Her expression was one of sadistic glee…of knowing she was in complete control and knowing that she would fully leverage it to its fullest extent. It was cruelty manifested into a simple expression of facial muscles.

“Probably hoping that your country comes and saves you, or gets you out. Perhaps looking for a way to survive this day? Be taken as a prisoner of war to be traded back in a future date? All good theories I must say…if only a bit too idealistic.”

The girl leaned forward until they were mere inches apart from each other.

“But you know the truth, don’t you Mr. Sergei? Former Spetsnaz, current Black Ops secret service operations agents.” She smiled as realization dawned on him…she knew who he was. How the hell did she know? “You’re nobody. You don’t exist on a record or paper. You exist through the memories of the higher-ups and that’s it. Word of mouth. They can deny your existence and you can’t prove anything.”

“You’re a broken toy Mr. Sergei, and broken toys like you aren’t fixed. They’re thrown away.” She grabbed his hand and played with his fingers, forcing them to move as if the strength inside them were nothing but play-doh. “What you are is a security risk. The moment your country takes you back, they become responsible for possibly starting another World War…except this time Russia will be alone. No allies, no worldly unions, no nothing. The Federation hasn’t done a great job of making friends in the last couple of decades.”

Her grin grew feral as she looked directly into his eyes, delivering the final blow. “Your country will deny any and all involvement. They’ll throw you to the wolves as a rogue…and should you miraculously survive, well, you know your country. Why let a liability live?”

With that, she stood up and dusted herself off before, unexpectedly, undoing his binds to the chair. As she walked across the room and towards the door, she kindly left an old fashioned revolver on the chair she sat before walking out.

He quickly lunged for the gun…aimed at her…before stopping. He had already tried…they had all already tried. Even with hundreds of shots from guns and bullets exponentially more powerful than this, they had failed to even scratch her. This little gun would do nothing.

She smiled back at him before walking out, a *click* sounding as she locked the door.

He stared at the gun as he looked into the chamber to find one bullet.

He chuckled…in defeat. He had nothing left…he had nothing to gain. His life was forfeit one way or another. Perhaps, at least, he could go out his way.

One last game before he went then.

He spun the chamber before pointing it to the side of his head.

In the minutes that followed, a single shot echoed and silence followed.