Zoro stood alone in the moonlit street, an island of calm in a sea of unconscious, groaning bounty hunters. The silence that followed the chaotic fight was heavy, broken only by the distant sound of a duck quacking in a panic somewhere.
He sheathed his swords, letting out a long, tired sigh. "Weak," he muttered. "All of them. What a waste of a good nap."
Then he thought of drinking some booze, which was in the "Welcome House," where the sounds of a party long since silenced.
"Right," he grunted, cracking his neck. "Booze."
He turned and began to walk with the confident, unwavering stride of a man who knows exactly where he's going.
He was, of course, walking in the exact opposite direction of the house, heading straight out of town and toward the silent, cactus-dotted desert.
"This town is confusing," he mumbled, his hand on his swords. "Stupid curly-haired mayor... and that... dance... what was that about? People in the Grand Line are weird."
---
Meanwhile, on the other side of Whiskey Peak, a few of the more cowardly Frontier Agents who had avoided Zoro's fight were sprinting through a narrow canyon, trying to get back to their boats.
"We gotta warn the others!" one of them panted. "That guy... he's not human! He's a demon!"
"Forget warning them! We gotta get off this island! I'm not getting paid enough to fight a demon!" another wheezed.
They rounded a sharp bend and ran—THWACK—directly into a pair of figures standing motionless in the dark.
One was a small, grinning otter with a satchel (Mr. 13). The other was a large, stoic vulture with a cannon-like device strapped to its back (Miss Friday). The Unluckies. The official recorders and executioners of Baroque Works.
The otter clicked its pen, its cold, dead eyes looking at the agents. The vulture raised its cannon.
"No, wait!" the lead agent stammered, holding up his hands. "It's... it's not what it looks like! We weren't deserting! We were just... uh... going to get backup! Yeah! Backup!"
"Oh, what a boring job," a new voice, light and airy, sighed from above.
The agents looked up. Perched on a high ledge, holding a tiny, frilly parasol, was a young woman in a lemon-yellow outfit. Miss Valentine. She let out a high-pitched, obnoxious laugh. "Heeeehehehehe! You look exhausted. Did you run all this way?"
"It doesn't matter if they ran," a second voice grumbled. This one was low, monotone, and came from a large, bizarre man in a trench coat, goggles, and an unfortunate afro. He was, for no discernible reason, picking his nose. Mr. 5.
"We have our orders," Mr. 5 said, examining his finger.
"Orders? Wait! We're on the same side!" the agent pleaded.
"Indeed," Mr. 5 replied. "And our orders are to eliminate those who fail their mission... and those who learn the boss's secrets." He flicked what he had found in his nose.
The tiny booger flew through the air and hit the agent in the chest.
"Huh?" the agent said, looking down. "Did you just... flick a—"
KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The resulting explosion was deafening, echoing through the canyons, obliterating the agents in a flash of orange light. Mr. 5 stood, completely unmoved, as dust and debris rained down around him.
"You really are... explosive, Mr. 5," Miss Valentine giggled, floating gently down from her perch, her parasol held high. "That was... BOM-BASTIC! Heeehehehe!"
"It's my Devil Fruit power," Mr. 5 said, his voice as flat as his expression. "The Bomu Bomu no Mi. My entire body, even my boogers, are bombs. A boring job, but an efficient one. Let's go. We have a real mission to attend to."
---
Back in the main square, the groans of the unconscious were joined by new, more alert sounds of pain.
"Igarappoi..." Mr.8 groaned, pushing a pile of unconscious agents off of him. His fabulous purple curls were flattened, his suit torn. "He... he just... hit us...?"
"My... bat..." Mr. 9 whimpered, holding the shattered handle.
Vivi (Miss Wednesday) sat up, her head spinning from the paralytic perfume that had blown back in her face. "That... swordsman... he's... he's a monster."
"Igarappi-sama!" she said, her voice full of panic. "He's still here! We have to..."
"Ah, what a pathetic display."
The three of them froze. Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine strolled into the square, stepping over the moaning bodies as if they were puddles.
"Mr. 5! Miss Valentine!" Mr. 9 cheered, relief flooding his face. "Thank goodness! You're here! Backup! That green-haired man... he's a demon! He took out a hundred men by spinning!"
"If you help us," Vivi said, getting to her feet, "we can take him together! Please, you have to defeat that swordsman!"
Mr. 5 just stared at them, his expression blank. Miss Valentine giggled behind her hand.
"Help... you?" she tittered. "Oh, you're just precious. Did you really think we came all the way to the end of the Grand Line to help you, you failures?"
Mr. 9's face fell. "Huh? Then... what are you here for?"
"We are here under direct orders from the boss," Mr. 5 said, his voice cold. "A 'cleanup' mission. We are here... to kill certain people who infiltrated Baroque Works from a certain... kingdom."
Mr. 9, ever the literalist, immediately panicked. He pointed to his small, metal crown. "Wait! I... I wear a crown! But I swear, I'm not royalty! It's just a fashion statement! I'm not a spy!"
Vivi's blood turned to ice. She knew. It was over.
Mr.8 knew it, too. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed the saxophone-guns hidden in his coat.
"IGARAPPA!"
He fired two small, explosive shots directly at Mr. 5's chest.
The smoke cleared. Mr. 5 was... completely unharmed. His coat was smoking, but he was just... standing there, his bored expression unchanged.
"My, my," Miss Valentine giggled. "That was rude, Mr. 8."
"He... he's fine?" Vivi whispered, horrified.
Mr. 5 grumbled. "I'm a bomb-man." He reached into his coat and pulled out a different wanted poster. Not Luffy's.
It was a royal portrait.
"Our mission," Mr. 5 said, "is to eliminate the traitor. The spy from the Kingdom of Alabasta... Princess Vivi Nefertari."
He held up the poster. It was her. Miss Wednesday.
Mr. 9, in that moment, had his entire world shatter. "Miss... Wednesday? You're... a... princess?"
"RUN, VIVI-SAMA!" Igaram roared. He opened his mouth and, in a truly bizarre display, a blunderbuss barrel emerged from his throat.
"IGARAM-POPO!"
He fired a volley of shots, providing cover. "PRINCESS, YOU MUST LIVE! YOU ARE THE HOPE OF ALABASTA!"
"Don't be so dramatic," Mr. 5 said, bored.
He blew on his fingertips. A single, invisible, explosive pellet of air shot out and hit Igaram square in the chest.
KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A massive, devastating explosion enveloped Igaram. He was launched backward, crashing into a building, which then collapsed on top of him. He was gone.
"IGARAM!" Vivi screamed, tears of horror in her eyes.
"Heeeehehehe! What a mess!" Miss Valentine laughed. She leaped into the air, her parasol opening, and began to float, weightless. "Now, Princess... it's time for you to die. And I'm going to make it... crushing! 10,000 Kilo Press!"
She began to float directly above Vivi, her smile wide and cruel.
"PRINCESS!" Mr. 9, in a final, suicidal, and surprisingly noble act of defiance, launched himself at Mr. 5. "RUN!"
"Pathetic," Mr. 5 grunted, and hit Mr. 9 with a simple, backhanded, explosive slap. Mr. 9 was sent flying, unconscious, before he even hit the ground.
Vivi was alone. She was cornered. She looked at the rubble where Igaram was buried. She looked at the floating, giggling Miss Valentine. She was a princess, not a warrior. It was over.
---
"...Damn it. This town is really confusing. Where the hell did they keep the booze?"
A voice, low and angry, rumbled from the street.
There, standing in the moonlight, looking annoyed and thoroughly lost, was Zoro.
He had, in his quest for the party house, walked in a perfect, one-mile circle, and had ended up back at the exact spot he started, standing over the groaning bodies of the agents.
He looked at the scene. He saw the two new, weirdly-dressed people. He saw the smoking rubble where Igaram was. He saw the new trail of explosions. He just... sighed. "Oh, great. More of you."
From the rubble, a charred, broken hand emerged. Igaram, barely alive, began to crawl. He saw Zoro. He saw the demon who had defeated 100 men.
"Please..." Igaram rasped, his voice a wet gurgle. He grabbed Zoro's boot. "Swordsman-san... Please... save the Princess... Save... Vivi-sama... She's running... that way..."
Zoro looked down at the hand on his boot with pure disgust. He tried to shake him off. "Get off. Not my problem. I'm looking for a drink, and you're all in my way."
"Please!" Igaram begged, tears mixing with the blood and soot on his face. "She is the hope... of our kingdom! Alabasta... will... reward you..."
"Don't care," Zoro said, his voice cold. "Your kingdom, your princess, your problem."
"My, my, that's not very heroic, Mr. Swordsman. And here I thought you were the chivalrous type."
A new voice. Smooth, feminine, and dripping with financial interest.
Zoro looked up. Nami was strolling into the square, her new Tempest-Tact resting on her shoulder. She looked refreshed, happy, and completely unbothered by the carnage. She was followed by Ben, who was quietly re-loading his Runic Camera, a look of academic curiosity on his face.
Nami walked straight past Zoro, her eyes landing on the groaning, half-dead Igaram. She knelt. "Did you say... 'Princess'?" she asked, her voice a sweet, dangerous purr. "...Yes..." Igaram coughed. "As in... royalty? As in... castles? And... treasure rooms? And... national debts of gratitude?" "...Yes... please..."
Nami's eyes didn't just light up. They didn't just turn into Berry symbols. They exploded. They became giant, golden, glowing orbs of pure, unadulterated avarice. She shot to her feet, her face a mask of terrifying, ecstatic greed.
She held up one finger. "One. Billion. Berries."
Igaram, who was already dying, looked like he was about to die again. "A... a... BILLION?!" he sputtered. "I... I am just a loyal soldier! I... I don't have that kind of..."
Nami's smile vanished. "Oh. No money, no hero." She turned her back, beginning to file her nails. "A real shame. Ben, let's go find Luffy. This is boring."
"WAIT!" Igaram roared, desperation giving him strength. "I... I can't promise that! But... you can! You can negotiate directly with her! She is the Princess of Alabasta! I swear on my life... if you deliver her... her ... safely to our kingdom... the King... will reward you! He will reward you beyond your wildest dreams!"
Nami stopped. She turned, a slow, predatory grin spreading across her face. "...Her kingdom... I like the sound of that." She snapped her fingers. "Okay, deal! We'll save your princess!"
She then spun on her heel, her face now all business. She looked at Zoro, who had been watching this entire, disgusting exchange with his arms crossed.
"Zoro!" Nami said, her voice cheerful. "Go save the princess."
Zoro didn't move. "Why should I? You made the deal. You go save her."
Nami put her hands on her hips, her smile unwavering. "Zoro, Zoro, Zoro. We're a crew. My money is my money. But my contracts... they belong to all of you! That's just how this works! It's teamwork!"
Zoro's eye twitched. "THAT'S THE WORST, MOST SELFISH, CROOKED LOGIC I'VE EVER HEARD IN MY LIFE! I'm not a tool! I'm not going to be used as a glorified attack dog like that... that... certain perverted cook!"
Nami's smile wavered. She changed tactics, her face falling into a disappointed pout. "Oh... I get it. You're just... afraid."
Zoro's eyebrow shot up. "What did you say?"
"I mean, it's fine," Nami said, waving a hand. "That one guy eats his own bombs. That's... weird. And the lady can fly. That's probably way too tough for you. I should just go wake up Luffy. He's not afraid of a little... explosion. It's okay, Zoro. You just wait here with Ben and... guard the bodies."
A large, pulsing vein appeared on Zoro's forehead. "You're just trying to rile me up, you witch!"
Nami's smile snapped back, all teeth. "And... there is one other thing..."
"What now?!"
"Don't forget," she said, her voice dropping to a sweet, cooing, deadly tone... "you still owe me money."
Zoro froze. "I... I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING! I paid you back!"
Nami began to count on her fingers, a look of pure, angelic innocence on her face. "Let's see... in Loguetown... I, a kind and generous friend, lent you 100,000 Berries for your new swords."
"AND I GAVE IT RIGHT BACK TO YOU!" Zoro roared.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Nami wagged her finger. "But you agreed to my terms. 300% interest. You paid back the principal, which was 100,000. Very good. But... you still haven't paid the interest..." Her eyes glittered. "...which is... 200,000 Berries."
Zoro's face was turning a shade of purple that matched Igaram's hair. "I GAVE YOU THE MONEY BACK ON THE SAME DAY! THAT'S NOT HOW INTEREST WORKS! GIVE ME A BREAK!"
"Nope!" Nami sang, cheerfully. "A deal's a deal! A promise is a promise! Can't you keep a single promise? Tsk, tsk. You want to be the world's greatest swordsman, but you can't even handle a simple, tiny, itty-bitty loan? How pathetic. I guess your word just... doesn't mean anything."
Zoro was trapped. He was caught between his absolute, burning hatred for Nami's loan-sharking logic, and his own, stupid, inflexible, bushido-like pride in "keeping a promise."
He stood there, shaking, his hand gripping his swords so hard his knuckles were white.
"DAAAAAAAAAAMN IIIIIIIIIIIT, YOU WOMAN!" he finally roared, the sound echoing off the cactus-mountains. "FINE! I'LL DO IT! I'LL CUT 'EM TO PIECES!"
He turned, a blur of green anger, and gripped his swords, his eyes now locked on the trail of explosions fading in the distance.
"But you..." he snarled, pointing a shaking finger at Nami. "YOU GO TO HELL!"
He took off at a full-speed sprint, leaving a cloud of dust, his battle lust now fully awakened, following the sounds of Mr. 5's destructive pursuit.
Nami just beamed, waving a small, dainty hand after him. "Yes, yes, I'll go to hell! Now, go and do the job! Shoo, shoo! Go earn us a fortune!"
Ben, who had been silently recording the entire exchange on his Runic Camera, just sighed and shook his head, a grin on his face. "This," he murmured to himself, "is the greatest crew in the world.