Loguetown Marine Base.
"What?! The Barto Club is fighting pirates now? What the hell is wrong with those lunatics?!"
Major Herman slammed the desk as he listened to the report.
He paced in circles with a deep frown, then slumped back into his chair, rubbing his temples.
He'd heard of Bartolomeo—
a gangster boss who controlled over 150 towns.
A monster with real influence.
When Captain Smoker was still here, the marines could suppress the Barto Club.
Even when problems erupted, Smoker handled them personally.
But now?
Smoker ignored direct orders and chased pirates out to sea, leaving Herman to handle the mess alone.
"'We can't leave it alone,' he says…" Herman muttered bitterly.
"People talk nonsense on the execution platform every other day. Why take this one so seriously?"
Sure, that straw-hat brat had some skill to escape the Marines…
but not enough to justify Smoker abandoning his post.
Herman sighed heavily.
Now Smoker was gone, and without a Logia powerhouse holding the fort, a wave of pirates aiming for the Grand Line had grown arrogant—
arrogant enough to start fighting the local underworld.
"Don't intervene. Let the dogs bite each other."
After a long internal struggle, Herman finally issued his order through the Den Den Mushi.
A nearby officer hesitated before asking:
"Major… what about the civilians caught in the middle?"
"What about them?"
Herman glared.
"They'll have to hide smartly. If we send troops now, it might spark a chain reaction.
If the pirates and gangsters unite, that would be the real disaster."
With that flimsy excuse shutting the officer up, Herman added in a quieter voice—more to convince himself:
"The replacement for Captain Smoker will arrive soon. Until then, our only mission is: don't cause problems."
…
Meanwhile, the pirates who were dragged into the chaos were furious.
"Damn it! Are those sewer rats insane? If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have admitted we were pirates!"
Captain Haus cursed as he staggered through the alley with his injured crew.
"Captain… what do we do now?"
The first mate clutched a bleeding shoulder, looking at their battered group.
"What else can we do? We find our ship and get out of here!"
Haus gritted his teeth.
"Like hell I'll let those rats off. Once we escape, I'll lead you boys to raid every town they own!"
His crew brightened at that.
If they couldn't beat the gangsters directly, they could at least wreck their territory.
"Serves them right if we ruin their income!"
"Where did we hide the ship?"
"Right ahead. I told the boys to take down the Jolly Roger and disguise it as a merchant ship."
As he spoke, the familiar shape of their vessel appeared through the mist.
They hurried faster.
They'd finally be able to escape this hell.
"Those bastards… slacking off at a time like this?"
The first mate scowled, misreading the captain's dark expression.
"Captain, I swear I told them to rotate the watch!"
Haus didn't reply.
He climbed aboard with a cold snort.
The first mate followed close behind, already imagining how he'd string up the lazy crew members.
But just then, Haus froze.
He raised a hand—warning gesture.
"What is—"
The first mate swallowed the question when he saw the captain's expression.
"…Blood," Haus whispered.
The crew looked at their own wounds.
Of course they smelled blood—so what?
"No," Haus hissed.
"Listen. Don't you think it's… too quiet?"
A breeze rolled across the deck.
It lifted their sweat-soaked hair—
and carried with it a faint, unmistakable metallic scent.
Blood.
Only now did everyone feel the unease creep in.
Silence. No voices. No footsteps. No crew breathing.
Nothing.
Something was wrong.
"Tok… tok… tok."
Footsteps.
Leather soles tapping slowly against wood.
From inside the ship.
Calm, steady, unhurried.
An eerie rhythm.
The pirates drew their weapons instinctively.
"Tok… tok… tok."
Closer.
Closer.
Then—
Silence.
Every man held his breath.
"Creeeak—"
The cabin door opened.
They'd heard that door a thousand times…
but never had it sounded so sharp.
So cold.
Moonlight pooled across the deck.
A silhouette stepped out.
Captain Haus's pupils shrank.
"Shoot!"
He fired the moment the words left his mouth.
"Bang!"
"Bang! Bang!"
Gunfire erupted, smoke surging outward as bullets flooded the deck.
The muzzle flashes blinded them.
The smoke grew thick enough to blur their vision completely.
"Move in!"
Haus drew his sword and charged—
—but froze after two steps.
He stared.
Silent.
Horrified.
His men—
all of them—
lay collapsed on the deck.
Eyes wide.
Limbs twitching.
Blood pouring from ears and mouths.
But not a single scream had been heard.
Not even a gasp.
Green ghost-fire flickered above their bodies, floating upward in eerie orbits.
Haus's knees nearly buckled.
When…? How…?
"Tok… tok… tok."
The footsteps resumed.
Haus clutched at his throat.
His eyes bulged.
Lungs burned.
Mouth opened and closed like a fish dragged ashore.
No sound came out—
the Silent-Silent Fruit's power smothered every scream before it could leave his throat.
His face turned beet red.
Veins bulged.
He collapsed into agonized spasms.
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