New World, Pleasure District.
Stussy sat in her opulent office, thumbing through an urgent intelligence report.
She wasn't in her usual alluring white dress today. Instead, she wore a sleek black skirt suit that broadcast mature authority, the look finished with black peep-toe heels flashing crimson soles.
"So you're telling me that brat Doflamingo hit one of our convoys?" Her fine brows drew together as she kneaded her temples with pale, lacquered fingers, the glossy black on her nails catching the light.
Before her, a subordinate in a black suit knelt on the cold marble floor, head bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"This isn't the first time. After the last incident we reinforced the escorts and tightened protocols, but Doflamingo's strength exceeded expectations."
"The caravan leader didn't even have time to send a distress call with his Den Den Mushi."
"Over three hundred were slaughtered, and supplies worth more than five hundred million berries were stripped to the last crate."
"Damn it," Stussy muttered, teeth set against the sour taste of the news.
Months earlier, a mysterious mafia outfit had smashed its way into the New World's Underworld. With ruthless precision, it struck and looted the territories and assets of various powers, large and small. Their speed and brutality sent a chill through every organization in the shadows.
Stussy had feared this from the start.
The New World's Underworld was a mesh of interlocking interests. Each Underworld Emperor commanded independent industries and territory. They schemed and sparred in the dark, but maintained a brittle peace in public. Profit was the goal; no one wanted a single power to rule. By mutual restraint, the enormous pie had long been divided by unspoken agreement.
The Emperors (Underworld Emperor), wielding absolute clout, ate the meat; the dark factions under them—or those who stayed unattached—sipped the broth. That unspoken order had held for years.
It was the rule of the New World.
No one dared break it lightly. Upsetting the balance meant a frantic scramble for markets, manpower, and routes—exactly the chaos the Emperors least wanted.
Without an overwhelming hegemon, they prospered in uneasy harmony.
Anyone foolish enough to challenge that order met the united blade of the Underworld and was erased.
There had been fools before. Their rebellions burned out quickly. Within days their bodies turned up in a harbor or rotted in a sewer before the tide took them out.
Killers varied: an Emperor's loyalists; underworld assassins and bounty hunters; sometimes their own men when the pay dried up.
But this time was different.
Because the pirate at the head of this crew was Doflamingo.
And his family name was Donquixote.
A former Celestial Dragon.
The Holy Land had stripped him of that status, but the most exalted blood in the world still ran in his veins.
That left the Emperors with no clean way to deal with a newcomer who tore through their holdings with impunity.
"This is getting complicated," Stussy murmured. The situation was slipping past her control.
She couldn't strike first; she was forced onto the back foot. Worse, the latest reports said Doflamingo's power was swelling by the day.
"Any fresh intelligence on him?" she asked, drawing a slender cigarette and lighting it with practiced ease.
"We've identified the Donquixote Family executives," the subordinate said. "All of them are formidable Devil Fruit users."
"Doflamingo is a Paramecia-type String-String Fruit user. He can shape his body into razor-edged threads, cleanly severing a ship with a single stroke. He likely already commands Haki, and preliminary estimates suggest he may even be capable of flight."
"Trebol, one of his executives, wields the Sticky-Sticky Fruit."
"Pica, another executive, has the Stone-Stone Fruit…"
"I'm not asking about combat data," Stussy cut in with a flick of her wrist. Doflamingo's identity made a direct strike… unwise. If she couldn't move by force, she needed other levers to limit his spread. If he kept growing unchecked, that brat would carve off a sizable share of the Underworld for himself.
The subordinate hesitated, then continued. "Outside the family's fighting strength, there isn't much. They originated in the North Blue, one of the Four Blues, where they reportedly ran rampant—"
"Wait." A shadow crossed Stussy's face. Her eyes fixed on him. "Doflamingo is from the North Blue?"
He had never seen the Queen genuinely surprised. Confusion flickered as he nodded.
"Yes, Madam. Before entering the Grand Line, the Donquixote Family rose to power in the North Blue."
"They ran roughshod over everyone, uniting the underworld forces. Their influence was absolute—they practically controlled the entire sea."
"Even the local Marines had to look the other way. They were helpless."
A thin, mocking smile pulled at his mouth.
"People called Rogers Darren the 'King of the North Blue.' Looks like he's just a paper tiger. Couldn't even handle a two-bit mafia family. All bark, no bite."
Stussy ignored the jab, thoughts turning hard and precise.
Knowing Darren as she did, he would never allow a pirate crew to run wild on his turf.
That left two explanations.
First, Darren had allied with Doflamingo.
Highly unlikely.
She dismissed it with an inward shake of the head.
Doflamingo's arrogance and appetite wouldn't bend—not with Celestial Dragon blood in his veins. He looked down on everyone.
For a former Celestial Dragon to stoop to parity with a Marine? Impossible.
To be continued...