chapter 6

Several hundred million years ago on earth the creatures that would be referred to as dinosaurs were wiped out by a meteorite. The destruction of a species could be accomplished with enough force by an object soaring from beyond the stars. Of course, the destruction of a species could also equally be created by a singular species, their advancement in science and technology developing weapons of mass destruction capable of turning the world into a nuclear wasteland. A third, and possible method for a species to be destroyed, can come in the form of a man with sufficient fire-power to bring about the oft mentioned biblical end-of-days.

My name was V.

And I was that man.

"ALLAHU AKBAR!"

Little Garden was a burning garden. Smoke filtered into my lungs, flames licked harmlessly at my skin, gale-winds and shockwaves travelled away from me like a nun rushing towards the confession booth at the dying minute of the rapture. My body was a weapon of mass destruction. My every breath was fire and carnage. Trees became the hapless victims of my whim and fancy. Prehistoric beasts were stripped of hair, flesh, skin and bone, their existence reset by the all-consuming beauty of fire.

"On the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup."

I was not a religious man. Yet, there was a beauty, inherent in witnessing the world baptized in swirling flames. Since the era when mankind discovered to strike rocks against dry leaves, they have been utterly enthralled by fire. I was no exception. Walking through the aftermath of my explosions always brought upon me an almost devout fascination. The earth, blackened with soot, the trees and leaves raining from the sky as white ash. The remnants of living beings, barely identifiable. Vaporized. Gone to dust and ash.

Little Garden was a garden of ash and charcoal. Watered with smoke, fertilized with flame. I, the gardener, glanced upon the work and saw that it was good. Unfortunately, the heavy, rocking sound of giant feet, rushing towards me, from both directions, told me that the garden's pests refused to accept the work of the gardener.

Giants, were, as I must have mentioned a thousand times, huge. There was no point in understating their size. A hefty, hulking brute of a man that would be called The Mountain in a series about dragons and incest, would be able to fit into a giant's nose easier than a Q-tip. Thus, two giants, blackened with soot and smoke, hovering above me were enough to cast their shadows into the sky and obscure the sun.

"You…" their voice rumbled like thunder travelling across the sky. "Did you do this?"

Dorry, I believed, was the one speaking. I took a formal elegant bow, "Forgive me," I said, drawling my words. "There was a troublesome bug afoot. I believed I got rid of it."

The giants, turned to each other, and then as one, threw back their bellies, and bellowed. "GEGYAGEGYAGEGYA!"

The laughter would have deafened the eardrums of any other man. I was certainly amused, if nothing else, at the manner in which they were able to co-ordinate their laughter. Ah, it was a shame these two giants had wasted a better part of a hundred years fighting simply because of a little girl that questioned them on who had gotten the larger catch.

"This human is certainly funny, Dorry."

"A very funny one, Brogy."

"I hoped I did not disturb your duel," I said, waving my hands. "I mean you no ill will. I will be leaving the island soon." My hands found their way into my pockets. "Best of luck, noble giants."

My feet kicked into the air, and wasted no time in propelling me out of the area. The speed of a shockwave was enough for myself to be kilometers away before the giants could let out any other words. The utter devastation of Little Garden was clear, as I zoomed through the flames and ash, the remnants of the island.

The shockwave from the explosion no doubt travelled across the sea, and I knew, somewhere, far off, a wave like the backhand of Poseidon would arise to wrought chaos upon unsuspecting seamen.

The thought brought me amusement. Like a giant, I had become. My actions, reverberating across the world to create ripples large and small, shift fate and set destiny upon a table, flipping her errant skirt and whipping her until her tune was to my liking.

All in a day's work, for a pirate.

| I - A - M - F |

The outcome, ultimately, was predictable. Dorry and Brogy needed food. Little Garden was devoid of food. There was nothing that would be capable of feeding a giant on the island anymore, which left wading the shallow waters of the island in search of fish and sea kings.

My explosion ensured that was not an option. Fish, large and small, knew better than to move toward a location with such strong wind activity. No, they were smarter than that. Dorry and Brogy were the unfortunate fisherman casting their nets in futility. Without a miracle, a messiah to aid them, they would not find any meal in the shallow waters around Little Garden.

So what would they do?

They were, fortunate for me, not the sort of individuals who would complain, point fingers, and search for culprits and scapegoats. No, rather than hunt down the human responsible for the lack of food, they would take the practical option. Neither wanted to defeat the other at anything less than full strength, so they would, wisely, post-pone their duel in search of food.

That was what they would have done.

What they would have done – if there was not only one boat.

As was the terms of their fated battle, only one individual was supposed to leave Little Garden alive. So, there was only one boat for that person, with enough room for only one giant. To climb upon that boat, and attempt to use it to leave the island without first finishing their battle would be seen as an insult against their customs, a spit in the face of their god Elbaf.

That meant, their final battle was nigh.

From my viewpoint, the battle was impressive. Both giants fought, with every single thing they had. Their blows sent ash and dust flying away from the island. The shockwaves from parry after parry was enough to render the clouds from the sky and change the weather. It was the final battle. The point at which there was no return. The moment wherein a victor was to be decided. They threw everything they had, everything they could give, into the battle. Hours passed, as the hungry titans roared, their rage and righteous fury colliding against each other.

Best friends. Warriors. Brothers.

For a hundred years, they fought, without stop, without end.

I knew, from the beginning, that without outside interference, there was only one way this battle would ever have ended.

Dorry's sword pierced Brogy's chest.

Brogy's axe cleaved Dorry's head.

Goliath slayed Goliath.

Time came to a standstill at the final moments. The leviathans, barking with their final laughter, as their ultimate blows connected. Realizing, perhaps understanding, that they were true equals with each other. None, greater than the other. None, inferior to the other.

Both giants collapsed, bleeding upon the ashen remnants of an island once rife with life. The final living things upon the garden, the grandest things on the island – the last things to die on the island.

The One-Hundred Year Battle came to an end, and its victor –

I.

|I. AM. MR. FIVE|

Miss Valentine found her lips dry.

It had been two day, since the explosion rocked the island and turned it to dust. Two days, since he told her of his plan. Now, she saw him, on the ashen beach of Little Garden, his trophies beneath him.

"We're going to need way to transport these."

Two giant heads. V sat, lazily, atop the severed giant heads, his expression as unreadable as ever. She swallowed the odd sensation budding in the back of her throat, her eyes going up to look at her captain.

"We could use the Giant's ship."

"A fleet with only three pirates?" V laughed. "I like that."

Footsteps came from within the Pop Rock Candy. From behind her. Valentine found the brat. Miss Goldenweek's eyes were wide. Bright. She moved almost as if she were in daze. She leapt off the Pop Rock Candy, panting as she ran forward, her feet crunching on blackened sand. She knelt, disbelieving, in front of the heads of the giants.

V hopped down from their heads, landing in front of the girl. With more chivalry than Valentine ever believed he was capable of, he bowed, gesturing towards the heads, offering it like a prince presenting his slayed dragon to his princess.

"For you, Miss Goldenweek."

A part of Miss Valentine wondered how much of it was true, and how much wasn't. Had they never found the midget, would her Captain still have gone through his plan of killing the giants? If he wouldn't have, did that mean, in truth, he had solely gone through the trouble of literally slaying giants just so he could make one girl happy?

Something bitter stuck at the back of her throat. She had to beg him just to help her skin a tiger, and yet, for someone else, he would kill giants. She shook her head at the thought. She understood why he was going through all the effort for Miss Goldenweek. He wanted her loyalty. Her power. Her devotion.

Still… kinda stings.

The girl clung to him tighter than she believed possible. She whispered soft, silent words that Valentine couldn't make out, but she knew her captain could. She couldn't read his face with his glasses, so she would never know what those words were, unless she asked him.

She wouldn't ask him, of course. They were none of her business. She sighed, running her hand through her locks.

"So… Captain, are we finally going to leave this place?"

His response was a curt, soft nod. "We set sail for the nearest Bounty Station. And then… Alabasta."

|I – A – M – F|

Grand Line

Two Days Later

"Marianne." I tested the name on my lips. "Certainly less of a mouthful than Miss Goldenweek."

Marianne pouted at me. 'I didn't choose my codename.'

My hands came up in surrender. "I know, I know. Mr. 0 picks the names. I honestly wonder why he went with holidays of all things as a motif…" I scratched my nose. "Actually, when I think about it… how do holidays even work here… something to think about later."

Marianne frowned, tilting her head. 'You don't know how holidays work?'

"I understand how they work, just… the origins of them is what makes little sense to me. Is there a Saint Valentine? A Santa Claus?" I sighed. "A lot of things about the Grand Line make little sense. There should certainly be a larger diversity of language… culture… does the concept of time-zones exist? So many questions…"

Marianne laughed, covering her hand with her mouth. 'You're funny.'

"Am I?" I leaned back unto the deck. "I didn't realize it. Valentine tends to disapprove of my puns."

"Your puns are horrible Captain and you know it. They don't have any spark."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Here we go…"

Valentine emerged from the shower in a towel, hands akimbo on her sides, and mischievous smirk ever pasted on her face. "He's a bomb human. Ever heard of a bomb that ignites its own fuse and blows up without anyone's help? No? Exactly. That's why you should leave the puns to the experts."

"Experts? You expect Mari to join you?"

Valentine snuck behind Marianne, pinching the girl's cheeks. "Give it a couple of weeks and I'll have chibi here dropping bombs of her own."

I couldn't stop myself from groaning. "Don't."

Valentine smirked. "I can picture all the bangers she'll hit you with."

Marianne was giggling as I tried to cover my face, leaving Valentine with more ammunition than I should.

"What's wrong captain? You should know, Mari-chan and I are going to fuse together, and make sure you never go a day without a strong, powerful… discharge."

Marianne's cheeks lit up as Valentine cackled. She was young, but apparently, not naïve. The double entendre did not fly over her head at all. My lips twitched with that knowledge. I gave Miss Valentine a subtle nod for her efforts, all the while using my body language exaggerate my distaste for her pun.

"Now you're really pushing it."

"Come on, Mari-chan. Tell Capt'n, how much you'd just love to blow him away."

I palmed my hand down my face. "That isn't even a bomb pun."

The blonde shrugged, floating around the deck. "Sometimes you hit, and other times, you missile."

My head, swung from side to side. "That was almost as bad as your cooking."

Valentine clutched her chest in mock hurt. "Ugh… right where it hurts, straight in my pride." She floated further in the air, falling like a leaf unto my lap. "Cap'n, how could you?"

"I don't know. How could you add sugar into everything you make?"

"But you admitted that you liked my sugar-crusted salmon cake –"

"…I… I can… cook."

Valentine and I stared as one toward the girl. She didn't say much, mostly conversing via body-language and non-verbal cues. It was the second time I'd heard her voice. The first, was two days ago, after she thanked me for 'killing' Dorry and Brogy.

"You… can?" Miss Valentine sounded suspicious.

"You can?" I sounded more eager than I should have.

Mari nodded, enthusiastically. 'I enjoy cooking a lot.'

"Then as First Mate of the Pop Rock Candy, I officially declare you, Chef Mari – ouch!" Valentine yelped. "You pinched me!"

"Mari, not that I doubt you, but, I just want to know if you have any penchant for a particular seasoning that may end up flavoring all your food."

Mari placed her finger on her lips. 'I like… spicy foods?'

"… so it's between capsaicin overdose or diabetes…"

"I resent that! You can't get diabetes if you simply burn through all the sugar –"

"Spicy foods it is." I stretched my hand. "As the Captain of the Pop Rock Candy, I officially make you, Marianne, the Chef of…" I hummed. "…the Devil Pirates."

Valentine wrapped her arms around my neck. "Devil Pirates?"

"We were going to need a name sooner or later."

"But why the Devil Pirates?"

"Exactly."

Her nose scrunched up. "Why the Devil Pirates?"

"You got it."

"I… don't get it."

I couldn't help the smirk on my lips. "Imagine we pull into a harbor, and someone shouts, 'What in the devil's name is that?' or you encounter an enemy, and they ask 'who the hell are you?' There'd be no shortage of witty things to reply."

"… you picked the name of our pirate group… because you want to have witty replies to give people?"

"Of course."

"…why?"

"I'm a Pirate, Valentine, not a philistine."

The Kilo-Kilo no Mi user sighed. "I thought you chose Devil Pirates because it'd make us sound like we were filled with Devil Fruit users."

"Smart. We can use that as subterfuge. Excellent thinking Valentine."

Marianne, through it all, was giggling. 'So… I'm part of… the Devil Pirates?'

"Of course. Valentine is the First Mate. You're the Cook-slash-Artist. So far, we're off to a good start. We just need to recruit a Musician, Marksman, Shipwright, Navigator –"

"Capt'n, we already have a Navigator. Me. Hello, beautiful girl in your lap?"

"Valentine, be serious."

"I can read air-currents when I'm weightless enough, and it allows me to be able to tell when storms or bad weather is coming. I know how to work the sails of a ship and in the past few months, I've been steering the Pop Rock Candy alone through your crazy explosions, and did so without damaging it. I think that more than qualifies me."

I stared at the blonde woman in my lap. She was serious. "…I didn't know that."

"Impressed?" she crossed her arms. "You should be. You're not the only one who can invent new abilities Captain."

I was impressed. "I am." I said. "Well done, Valentine."

"Praise me some more."

I rose a brow.

"I don't know when next you're going to do it, so I might as well just milk it and get you to shower me with praise now."

I rolled my eyes. "Valentine is amazing."

"Say it again, but slower, and with more enunciation –"

"Don't push your luck."

"Also, I want a pet name." She pointed. "You call her Mari. Why do you keep calling me Valentine?"

"…that isn't your name?"

"…Did you really believe my name was Valentine?"

In hindsight, it made sense that it wasn't. Just as Mr. 5's real name clearly could not be Mr. 5 and Miss Goldenweek's real name could not be Miss Goldenweek, obviously Miss Valentine's name wasn't actually Valentine.

She seemed genuinely upset with me, for some reason. Her gaze was irritated. Weightless as she was on my lap, she glared at me with heat. It was different, from the early heat of when we'd first met. Different from outright hatred or vehemence. I couldn't place it.

"…you really don't remember at all, do you?"

"Valentine –"

"My name is not Valentine!"

She pushed me away, sending me skidding across deck. With an irritated huff, she floated her way back into the ship, heading below deck and slamming the door behind her. I scratched my head, frowning as I turned to Mari.

"Do you understand any of what just happened?"

Mari nodded. 'She's angry at you.'

"I got that much. I don't understand why."

Mari gave me a look, one which almost said, 'You can't be serious.'

"What are you talking about?"

She shook her head, sighing. 'She likes you.'

"Yes, we trade jokes and flirt all the time –"

The younger girl rose up, approached me, and without hesitating, planted a kiss on my lips. My body couldn't move. The kiss wasn't something long, or something sensual, but it was there to send a message.

She likes you.

"…Oh." I said. "That… that can't be right." What, I was supposed to believe that Miss Valentine had… romantic feelings for me? What sort of bizarre, impossible world was that supposed to happen?

Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome. Yes, definitely. It was more likely that Miss Valentine had developed some sort of Stockholm Syndrome-like affection towards me than it was that in the past few months where I'd literally done nothing but torment her with training and pleasure her with sex, she'd somehow found herself developing romantic feelings for me.

Or was it that she was one of those people who couldn't have sexual intimacy without forming an emotional bond? She didn't seem to be a virgin, so, I hadn't considered that possibility – but –

I shook my head. "This can't be right. She can't… I mean with me… I mean… what's there about me to like?"

Mari leaned in. The second kiss was longer than the first. Deeper, than the first. Her tongue was surprisingly warm. Her taste was of seawater and ink. The kiss departed, and she left me staring at her, her blushing, quiet form.

The message was delivered. 'There's a lot to like.'

"I… ah. Er… I need… some… right."

My mind was in a daze as I walked away from the deck. Yes, I wanted Marianne to develop feelings for us, but this was… too fast. Too fast. I mean… all I've done so far is kill the giants for her – and –

And Valentine –

There had to be an explanation that was more logical. A reason that made more sense than me believing that these two women had suddenly woken up with romantic feelings for me. For me? I laughed. Come on. Who was the universe trying to fool? No – no – something else was going on here.

Is it my explosions? Am I scattering pheromones to the wind subconsciously? Is it something in the water? The air? There has to be an explanation. Or did – did they get bitten by some sort of rare insect while we were on the island?

I remembered from canon that Nami got sick from a rare bite while on Little Garden. Was that what happened? Maybe it worked faster for Marianne since she'd been on the island longer, but Miss Valentine only got the flu when she got there –

She should have worn more clothing to cover up.

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. Whatever disease or bug that infected them didn't seem to have affected me yet. I didn't have any feelings for Marianne because I'd only known her for a short while. But with Miss Valentine… well, she was… amusing… and beautiful. Her puns grated on my nerves often, but I did enjoy myself in her company. She knew how to make me laugh, or at least, crack a smile.

But… romantic feelings?

I shook my head. "Why am I letting this bother me so much?"

I should be celebrating. Whether it was a bug or something in the water, this was good, for me. Marianne having feelings for me meant I could cultivate those feelings and have her on my side. Miss Valentine having feelings meant it was less likely for her to betray me –

You should be celebrating. Whoo! Two girls are falling for you and you barely did jack-shit to deserve it. Celebrate!

…

Fuck.

"…Is this what it feels like to be Ronald Weasley? Rito Yuki? Hyoudou Issei?"

It didn't quite feel… good.

"Whatever. It'll die off… eventually."

I was going to be the Pirate of Pirates. Pillage, murder, rape, and of course the drunken revelry and debauchery. Kidnapping princesses, torturing marines – the full course worthy of the Captain of the Devil Pirates. It didn't matter if they felt something for me now. Once they saw what I truly had in mind, what I was capable of – those feelings would die.

Or at least, Valentine's would.

Marianne was still… up for debate. Her power was useful, but ultimately, if it came down to it, I could do without it. Explosions beat mind control when it came to coercion after all.

"…where's the goddamned alcohol when you need it?"

Right. It didn't matter.

At the end of the day, their feelings would die.

They would understand, it was stupid, to have feeling towards someone like me.

They would understand in time.

| I – A – M – V |

Five Days Later

"Land ho!"

Things on the Pop Rock Candy had been awkward, to say the least. Valentine and Marianne got closer to each other in an unbelievably quick amount of time, such that the younger girl had taken to sleeping in Valentine's bed, cuddling up with her. Between myself and Marianne, things progressed normally, but I noticed, she seemed to keep looking for, or finding excuses to be close to me.

Little things like sitting in my lap were supposed to be innocuous, except for how she would breath in a rather forward manner and apparently gleam at me with a brilliant smile when she finally felt something bulging pushing against her. Other times she would make the 'mistake' of entering my room when she came out from the shower, before giving an 'oops' and a 'teehee' before leaving. On other occasions she would outright enter the bathtub while I was in it, grabbing a rubber duck from god knows where and asking me to wash her back.

Somehow, in some bizarre, inexplicable twist of fate, rather than I grooming Miss Goldenweek, I found myself trying to avoid the overly-clingy teenager who apparently had no knowledge of boundaries.

A part of me questioned why I had not just given in to her demands and shown her who was boss. The reason was simple.

Imagine a cheetah, on a field, chasing a gazelle. Now, the cheetah knows its role of predator, and the gazelle understand its role of prey. But, without warning, the gazelle turns around, and begins to chase the cheetah, bobbing its head and weaving back and forth like Muhammed-fucking-Ali, while all the while taunting the cheetah to 'come get'sum bitch'.

Either A: The Gazelle has in fact taken some boxing lessons and it'll be a seriously bad idea to approach it, or B: There was a trap in place for the cheetah.

I didn't know what the trap was supposed to be, which was why, for the most part, I found myself acting like an obtuse harem protagonist and yeeting Marianne's advances.

There was no FBI on the Grand Line to come knocking on my door and yelling to open up, but I couldn't help but feel that way for some odd reason.

Valentine found the entire thing unbelievably amusing, and started supporting Marianne's over-the-top advances in little ways. I was the captain of my own ship, and yet, I'd been ganged up on by two women.

The thing with Valentine and I had also been odd. I tried asking her what her real name was, but she refused giving me an answer. Yet, every time I called her 'Valentine' she would answer with a sickeningly sweet tone that indicated she was not at all pleased. It left our interactions somewhat cold, and she had, noticeably increased her flirtatious comments and dirty jokes.

I felt like I was in an episode of Ed Edd an' Eddy, being tormented by the Kanker Sisters. Once Valentine understood that I didn't have it in me to physically hurt her, no matter how much I huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf, she took full advantage of that knowledge.

Ultimately, I couldn't kill her. Annoyingly as it was, I'd become too endeared to her to kill her, and the thought of harming her or scarring her with my explosions simply because I occasionally didn't like her tone left a bitter taste in my mouth. Sure, I could hit her playfully, and I wasn't shy about roughing her up when it came to training, but at my core, I wasn't the type of person who'd beat down on a woman for no reason. I mean, sure, I'd molest you, but I wouldn't beat you. I had standards.

On one hand, I was glad that she wasn't afraid of the literal walking bomb, on the other hand, I almost missed the days when she was.

"Finally," I said, stretching my arms. "What's the name of this island?"

"Lentil Island." Came Valentine's response. "There's a Marine Base and a Market. We can turn in Dorry and Brogy's heads here and restock on supplies."

Ultimately, we'd sailed while towing along the Giants of Elbaf's ship, making sure to avoid storms and finding the smoothest route with the Log Pose to this island. We had an Eternal Pose for Alabasta, so we didn't have to worry too much about going off track on occasion. It also allowed me to find different unexplored islands and routes that existed on the Grand Line that the Straw Hats hadn't followed.

"We're not staying too long. We only need the two-hundred million beli cashed in, and we'll be leaving."

Valentine placed her hand on her hips. "We're going shopping."

"We?"

"Mari-chan and I. In case you forgot, but she's been wearing most of my outfits."

No, I hadn't forgotten. I sighed, scratching the back of my head. "Fine. You'll follow me to make the trade for the giants, and then, I'll split the two hundred million so you and Marianne can do the shopping."

Our arrival into the port drew attention. There were whispers and stares, which was understandable, considering we were towing a ship with the heads of two giants. We didn't fly a jolly roger yet, so we weren't harassed or accused of being pirates, which, I wondered, why pirates didn't simply do. I supposed it was an issue of pride.

Docking the Pop Rock Candy brought my attention to the Marine ships, similarly docked. There were a few Marines on board, but they seemed most likely to be the low-level grunts and cannon-fodder, mopping the deck and keeping an eye out. My biggest issue was that the ship was… large.

"Valentine…"

"Yes, dear…?"

"Not now. Look. That Marine Ship."

She floated over to me, her eyes landing on the vessel in question. "Four masts, three sails, custom paint job… dark pink hull, light blue deck house…"

"Is that…?

"A Captain's Ship."

"Fantastic." I said.

"Doesn't look like it belongs to the Marines based here. So a Captain from elsewhere is either visiting Lentil Island or made a stop to restock on supplies. Unlucky for her to meet up with us."

"How do you know it's a her?"

Valentine rolled her eyes. "Dark pink hull. Any male Captain choosing that color would never hear the end of it. I've never heard of any Okama Captains either, so I'm ninety-five per cent sure it's a her."

I glanced at Miss Valentine from the corner of my eye. It was at times like this, I remembered that she was an elite trained bounty hunter/assassin, and she had significantly more knowledge about the softer, finer details of the world than I did. My knowledge of the world was limited to only the Straw Hat's adventures, and the brief snippets of worldbuilding outside of it, so while I did know, considerably a lot, there was still so much I didn't know.

"So, are we killing the Captain? Capturing her for ransom? Stealing her ship? Destroying her ship?"

"Someone's eager."

Valentine shrugged. "You've been training me for combat for the past several weeks, but I haven't actually, fought anyone yet. I can't have gone through all that for nothing."

"You'll get your time to shine. Just not today. For now, we hand over Dorry and Brogy's heads, collect the bounty, do a little shopping, restock on supplies, and we make a beeline for Alabasta. Nothing else."

"But –"

"Nothing. Else."

She crossed her arms. "Fine – fine. Nothing else."

"Good. Now, come on – give me hand with the heads. These things are heavy."

|I. A. M. V|

"What do you mean, you can't pay?"

The curly-haired Marine bastard in front of me with his rat-face, bucktooth and slimy smug-merchant grin dropped his hands to the side as he shook his head.

"Yes, yes, it's impressive you managed to kill giants – but these wanted posters are over a hundred years old. No one even knew that these giants were still alive."

"Last I checked, wanted posters didn't come with an expiration date."

The rat-faced Marine cleared his throat, the irritating sound of phlegm travelling from nostrils to trachea almost enough to make me deck him across the face. With a perpetually smug grin, he continued.

"W-well, it's a shame." He said. "But – no one will pay a bounty for pirates over a century old. Or – or what, did you think we'll pay interest? A hundred million beli one hundred years ago is almost a billion beli today. We – the Marines – we don't pay interest on bounties. And – can they even be called pirates? Anything they did one hundred years ago to anyone doesn't make a difference now. Yes, yes - even the current Admirals, the amazing Admirals, weren't alive when these… giants… committed whatever thing they did. So – so – no one cares for their death. You are not owed their bounties."

Two fellow Marine officers in the room sniggered, all while rat-face continued to smile. "You –"

"Captain…." Valentine tapped me on my shoulder. She shook her head, slowly.

"Right. Right. You can't demand anything of us, Bounty Hunters. We – we are the Marines. Your luck is tough, In any case, we – we will be taking the giants heads, to – to ensure the criminals are properly disposed of… and their death is logged… yes… logged in our records."

I knew, from the beginning, that something was suspicious with the town. Perhaps it was the way when we approached, Marines seemed to stare at us greedily. Or perhaps, it was because I saw one Marine officer, kicking aside a woman and laughing to his peers as he strolled down the street, acting like he was owed respect. Or maybe it was the children who throw stones at a Marine, cursing them as they ran, and the Officer using his baton to slam them into the ground.

The reason why Valentine had tapped me on my shoulder, and gave me that look was clear.

"You're… crooked."

Rat-face dragged more phlegm down his throat. "How – how dare you! You are nothing more than a c-common b-bounty hunter! You dare question A-Absolute Justice? I – I should have you thrown in a cell!"

Ratface turned his gaze to Valentine. A leery grin came along.

"A-and we should take that woman… along. P-perhaps a night in one of our… detention facilities, w-will make you learn y-your lesson."

"…what did you just say?"

"A-are – are you h-hard of hear –"

"Mashallah."

In Arabic, the phrase could translate to meaning 'God has willed it.'

It was not so much of an explosion. I didn't quite understand it myself, when my right hand snagged out, all five fingers grasping the man's forehead, and all five fingers igniting simultaneously. The room filled with the smell of burning meat, as the bastard whose name I never cared to learn and would never care to learn could barely scream for a second, before his skull exploded and splattered the room with bone fragments and grey matter.

I wiped down the brain splatter from my outfit, looking up to stare at the two other Marines in the room who'd shakily brought up their flintlock rifles to me. "Y-you – you can't get away with –"

"Inshallah."

In Arabic, that could be translated to 'If God Wills it.'

Applying just enough force of explosion to punch my hand through their chests, I searched for the beating organs, exploding it with a vengeance. They dropped like flies, and I cursed underneath my breath at the welching sound of my blood-soaked gloves.

"Fuck. I swear, I'm going to enslave someone just so they can do my laundry."

Miss Valentine stood in the corner, her arms crossed.

"What?"

"I don't know, Captain. What happened to nothing else?"

"That was before the crooked Marine bastard pissed me off."

"So…" Valentine's eyes twinkled. "All it takes to piss you off is the idea of someone else having their way with me?"

My lips dried. "Well –" I kept my mouth close. "I mean –" My mouth opened, but shut. "Fuck."

"…Mikita."

"What?"

"My name, Captain." She said. "It's Mikita."

"Oh." I said. "Mikita." I repeated. "Miki." I said. "Miki-chan?"

"You'll get there," she laughed. "So… ready to fight our way through a Marine base, raid their vault, and introduce the Devil Pirates to the world?"

"My, Mikita," I said, drawing a smiley-face of blood across my lip. "I thought you'd never ask."

She stared at me.

I stared back.

"What?"

"Did you really just rub that guy's blood on your lips?"

"…I got caught up in the moment."

"…"

"…"

"Shut up."

Mikita laughed.

"Aye aye Captain. Aye aye."