Chapter 75: Echoes of the Past, Shadows of the Future
Stussy stared at the shattered syringe on the floor, her initial anger giving way to a cold, hollow feeling. Jock Ian's words echoed in her mind, sharper than any blade.
"Still thinking about completing your mission? Can you be a little more self-aware?" he had scoffed. "I give you my blood, and you come up with 'Ian 1,' 'Ian 2,' 'Human 1,' 'Human 2' clones? Who would I go to for justice then?" He looked down at her, his gaze utterly dismissive. "You are far from being one of us. If your loyalty is not absolute, then it is absolutely disloyal!"
Stussy found she had no retort. "..."
"You have the worst character!" she finally managed, the heat returning to her cheeks. "If you didn't want to give it, you didn't have to. Why be so vicious about it? You are truly the most scheming, evil man I have ever met in this world! Hah... Hah..." She was breathing heavily, her scalp still tingling from the sheer audacity of his actions and the frustrating truth in his words.
"Hey, now that's more like a normal woman with some personality," Jock Ian said, a faint, almost approving smirk on his lips. "People are different because they have individuality. It doesn't matter how you came into this world, Stussy. Live your own life."
He turned to leave, then paused, reaching out to ruffle her short hair with a gesture that was strangely comforting despite everything. "I'm going. See you next time. I hope we can become... one." The words were layered with meaning, hinting at a future alliance deeper than the physical intimacy they had just shared.
Stussy sat on the edge of the ruined bed, her anger gradually subsiding into bewildered contemplation. What is going on with this man? One moment he was a dissolute scoundrel, the next he could say something that struck a chord so deep it was unsettling.
Before she could fully process it, Jock Ian, who had taken a few steps toward the door, turned back. Stussy looked up, confused.
He gently took her hand. Surprised, Stussy didn't struggle.
"That guy… at the table earlier, I was a little impatient," he said, almost sheepishly. "I took it off and had nowhere to put it, so I just stuffed it in my pocket." He placed a small, silken garment into her palm. "I just remembered it when I felt my pocket… I'm giving it back to you."
Stussy looked down. It was her underwear.
Her face instantly darkened. "..."
"You go to hell!!" she shrieked, hurling the garment at his retreating back as he finally made his exit, a low chuckle echoing behind him.
…
An hour later, with Jock Ian long gone, Stussy finally calmed her frayed nerves. She picked up the Den Den Mushi and connected the call.
"Stussy! You finally called. Did anything go wrong?" Vegapunk's voice crackled with concern from the other end.
Controlling her expression and tone perfectly, Stussy replied, "No surprises, but it didn't work. Jock Ian… was very defensive. I never found the right opportunity." She let out a sigh that sounded genuinely disappointed. "Maybe I really can't help you with this matter, Doctor."
Vegapunk, ever the optimist, brushed it off. "It's fine, it's fine, as long as you're safe. I'll find another opportunity later and try applying through the World Government's official channels." He paused. "There really weren't any… accidents, right?"
Facing his concern, Stussy forced a light, confident laugh. "Haha, Doctor, do you look down on me that much? It just didn't work out, that's all. Of course there were no surprises."
Yet, as the lie left her lips, Jock Ian's image and his damning words from an hour earlier flashed in her mind: "If your loyalty is not absolute, then it is absolutely disloyal!"
And so, a seed of doubt was sown, not about Jock Ian, but about the path she was walking.
…
Several days later, in the early morning light of Sabaody Archipelago's Grove 9, two broken planks, having detached from their non-designated landing point, bumped weakly against the massive, buoyant roots of a Chabaody Tree.
Swish!
Thud.
Several disheveled figures scrambled onto the root system, coughing and gasping, their arrival anything but grand.
"Pfft... cough, ugh, I choked... I almost drowned, Captain!" a sickly-looking man wheezed, lying prone across the back of a beleaguered-looking horse.
"What kind of quality was that broken ship? We're not even worthy of riding in it? The coating quality was far too poor, wasn't it?" complained a tall, powerfully built man, wringing seawater from his clothes.
"Ugh... It's so uncomfortable... The water pressure was immense. Thank fate we made it out of Fish-Man Island alive!" said another, adjusting a black cloak over his drenched form.
"Captain, when do we get our own proper ship and start making a real name for ourselves?"
"Hey, since I followed the captain, we've been retreating all the way from the New World to the first half of the Grand Line. How long do we have to keep retreating?"
"Be content, Poison Q. If it weren't for me, your horse would have sunk to the bottom of the sea!"
A heated, chaotic debate erupted among the four strange individuals and one horse as they huddled on the root, discussing their latest brush with disaster.
"Hahahaha! Not dying at the bottom of the sea means fate is on our side!" a booming, optimistic laugh cut through the complaints. "Finally, we're out of the New World! Let's make some noise in this sea area first!"
The speaker was a burly, hairy man wearing a turban, vigorously wringing out his soaked white coat. The gap in his teeth, visible through his wide grin, was particularly noticeable.
Marshall D. Teach.
Nickname: Blackbeard.
Not long ago, he was a member of the Whitebeard Pirates, one of the Four Emperors. Now, he was a traitor who had murdered his crewmate and fled the New World. It had all started for a single Devil Fruit.
The Natural-Type: Dark-Dark Fruit.
The four crew members around him were his new companions, gathered during his frantic escape from the Whitebeard Pirates' wrath. Each was formidably powerful and shared Teach's distinctly wicked heart. They were a crew in name only, lacking even a decent ship.
"Captain Teach," said the man with the eyepatch, his voice calm and analytical as he pulled his black cloak tighter, "according to the original plan, weren't we supposed to avoid the Sabaody Archipelago? This is the territory of that Marine supernova, Jock Ian, who appears frequently in the newspapers. His strength is… unknown!"
Van Augur.
Nickname: Supersonic.
Sniper of the Blackbeard Pirates.
"Is that guy really that powerful?" boomed the large man, "I always feel the Navy's reports are exaggerated! Captain, if we meet him, you can definitely take care of him in minutes, hahahaha!"
Jesus Burgess.
Nickname: Champion.
Helmsman of the Blackbeard Pirates.
"I suppose we couldn't avoid it… cough... This is what the captain said... fate, right?" the sickly man, Poison Q, wheezed from his horse.
Doc Q.
Nickname: Death.
Doctor of the Blackbeard Pirates.
"Enough talk, Doc Q," said the final man, dressed in dramatic attire and holding a cane, as he adjusted his top hat. "Haha, let's hear the captain's analysis on what we do next."
Lafitte.
Former sheriff, now strategist and navigator for the Blackbeard Pirates.
Blackbeard's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with ambition and a reckless disregard for the danger they had just entered. "Zehahaha! The plan has changed, my friends! Fate has brought us here!"