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lostandfoundbook · 7 months ago

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Chapter 19

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They say, moments before you take your last breath, you see your life flashing before your eyes. Every moment of you laughing with friends, crying with family, or hating with others, is captured and displayed for you like a movie. You walk in and are sat in a theatre. Alexandria didn't agree with that, but maybe, that was because she didn't die properly. She didn't do many things properly. Didn't live properly. Didn't love properly. Didn't die properly.

When Alex had woken up the next day, she remembered everything, and god, did she feel like an idiot. Of course he didn't reciprocate her feelings, because she was a drunken fool. She groaned as she leaned back against her bedsheets. She could never face him again. This was it. This was the end of Alexandria Gray Bird.

Attempting to ignore whatever was happening in her mind, Alex pulled her phone off of the night stand and opened up Twitter. A smirk grew across her face as she saw photos of her and Oliver littering the time line. Of course, people had slowly warmed up to the idea of Alexandria and Oliver interacting with each other, and with this, some people had begun to ship them.

Hell. Alex shipped them. She threw her arm over her face as she tried to ignore the posts. There was no way she could interact with them. She found a few people talking about how pretty the venue was, and she retweeted those. She moved onto Instagram where she saw story after story of people posting photos of Alex in Oliver's shirt. This made her smile drop.

Where the fuck did they get that photo? Alex was in the private quarters of her own living spaces within a minute of leaving Oliver's room. How the fuck had they gotten a photo of them together? She closed the app and threw her phone down. This was a nightmare. Alex sat up in her bed and messed with her long messy blonde hair. She stood up and noticed she was still wearing his clothes.

She got up and headed towards the closet to find a change of clothes. She pulled out a blue tank top and a white pair of shorts. This would be cute. She threw them on quickly and found a pair of white sneakers. She finished her look off by throwing her hair into a bun. It was starting to get warmer, and even though the hotel had air conditioned air, it still got a bit stuffy. That's why she liked being able to prop open her balcony at night time.

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before going to fish her phone out of her bedsheets where she had left it. When she finally found it, she was met with a text from Oliver. "Hope you slept well."

He was making it hard to ignore him. She had to focus. She needed to get her management to agree about dropping her PR team, because she still wanted to switch over to Oliver. She had just made things messy, was all. She could fix things easily.

"Slept great." She replied. Kind of dry, but she needed to keep him at bay for now. She made her way out of her room and down the hallway. Maybe she'd go for a walk round the hotel, or something.

She imagined her death so many times that she thought she could predict how it'd go like you could predict when somebody would fall down on the ice. She'd be the one holding the knife in her hands, finding a way to make her ending poetic. She'd be the one dancing across the highway. She'd be the one in control. But right now, Alex was the furthest thing from in control. Not in control of living, of breathing, of moving. Alex couldn't move.

She made her way down to the elevator and slotted herself in. There were a few other people, so she pulled out her phone and pretended to blend in. She felt like an odd man out, sometimes. Like she didn't quite belong, but that was okay because she was being invited to stay here. It was different, she told herself. She looked at her text back from Oliver. "We still need to talk later."

She knew. She could pretend she was going to avoid him all she wanted, but that was like water avoiding being wet. It was possible, but under very specific circumstances. These were her circumstances. She couldn't avoid him no matter how hard she tried. She could sit in her room all day, but she knew he would eventually come to see her. She could try to stay in the studio, but eventually James wouldn't be there, and Oliver would have to take his place. She could try to move out... but that seemed like an impossible situation, and a bit dramatic if she was being honest.

She just needed to talk to him. "I know. I'm talking to management today. Later" she replied back, pushing her phone back into the pocket of her shorts. She listened for the dinging of the elevator before they eventually reached the ground floor. She walked out and stared at the big white walls before she eventually carter herself off into a corner of the room where a couch lay. She tried to remain invisible to the people there. She scrolled through her contacts before she landed on 'Charles'.

She had figured out that he was her manager through the process of elimination. She had a lot of people saved in her contacts, but only a few were in a single group chat together, where Greg and Benji were. She knew the other two, so she figured Charles was her manager. She listened as the called ringed one, then twice, then three times, then four. Then he picked up.

"Hello? Alexandria, is that you?" the other voice on the line called out. It sounded rugged and deep. White. "Hi, Charles. It's Alex, yes. How are you?" She pushed her free hand into her pocket and leaned against a wall. "I'm okay. We need to talk, obviously." He replied. Alex let out a nod that he couldn't see. "Yes, I know. That's why I'm calling you."

He let out a gruff sigh. "Things are very different for you. Your contract runs out in a few months for your PR, and it seems you've been ignoring their calls." The man said. Alex pouted. That weren't true. Greg had been ignoring her. "Actually, I've been in close contact with Greg. He's been ignoring me recently ever since I was spotted with Oliver and not Everette."

The line went quiet for a minute before the man began to speak again. "I see. That's not what we've been told, so we'll have to get things worked out. Aside from that, you haven't met with your producers in months. We have nothing to further your career. Are you on hiatus?" Alex let out a small sigh of her own. "I've been working with Oliver's producers. I can try to get him to sync everything up with you guys until my contract with Greg runs out. Then I think I want to get Oliver run my PR."

She also wanted Oliver to run her management, but she didn't want to rely too heavily on him. He already provided so much. She needed to branch out, and find her own career path outside of Oliver. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!"

The response wasn't what she was expecting, but she welcomed it anyway.

It would be self inflicted. She would take her own life. She never once imagined that somebody she trusted at one point in her life could betray her in such an inhumane manner. As cruel as a lit match held to a block of ice, they slowly destroy each other the longer they're around. This was what Alex had gotten herself into. Inhumanity, suffering, and pain. How does one take back the words they spoke, or the actions they committed? How does one say sorry when they can no longer speak?

As she hung up the phone call, she walked away from the corner she was stood in. She walked out and felt the warm air blasting on her through the windows. She let it soak into her skin, the warmth bathing through her body in an energetic way.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" A familiar voice shot out at her. Alex's head turned towards the voice. It was Everette. "Don't you ever learn to take a hint?" She said approaching him. "I don't want to do anything with you. I don't like you. I don't care about you."

"You're cheating on me!" He growled. He was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of blue jeans. "We aren't together!" Alex show her hands to the side, as if that would make him understand more. "You think you just get to use me, use me up to my last drop, and then leave me in the gutters when you find someone new to leech off of!"

He said it loud enough for people to hear. They began to look. Alex could feel the hairs on the back of her neck began to creep up. "That's not fucking true and you know it! You abused me! You used me! You're the one who fucked up here! It wasn't my fault, it was all you!" She reamed at him, beginning to unload on him. "You think that, just because I don't remember what happened, that you get to play these twisted games with me. I remember, Everette. I remember the way you put your hands all over me. I remember the way you used me. I remember, and I will never go back with you ever again." She spit out.

He turned to look towards the crowd of people that were gathering. Alex wondered if this is what it would've been like had Oliver not stopped him yesterday. Would this have been what would've happened? Was it really this simple? "You're a dirty whore" He darkly laughed, a sense of anger residing in his voice. It wavered as he said it, like it was spice burning his tongue.

"Fuck you, Everette" She called out and whipped around to face her back towards him to walk away. He grab onto her wrist and pulled her forward. "Stop trying to fucking run all the time. That's what got us into this mess in the first place!" He said out, and waved her hand around. She tried to rip it out of his grasp, but he was too strong. "Get off of me!" She called out.

He gripped her arm stronger. "No. You have to face this. Tell me what's so horrible about me, Alex, huh? What is so unbearable that you have to go whoring off to some guy you don't even respect?!" He shoved her onto the ground with his last words. Nobody stepped in or intervened. The ground was cold underneath her arms, and she could feel the dirt and gravel that get kicked up by peoples shoes as they walked.

"You!" She screamed back, steadying herself onto the flats of her palms. "You, are so fucking cruel and horrible. You play me like a fucking fiddle, Everette, and you don't care how I feel. You didn't show up to any of my shows. You didn't support my love of theatre. You don't support me! For the first time in forever, I found someone who does!"

He grimaced as she spoke. His eyes were fueled with rage and anger. "You're a fucking slut, Alex, a big fucking slut."

She stood up and wiped the gravel off of her arms.

When she was nine, she saw a man die in front of her. He was standing on the edge of a bridge talking with his friends when a gust of wind had scooped him up and taken him all the way down. It ate him alive, the wind did, but nobody seemed to notice. Nobody even batted an eye, but Alex saw it. Her mother didn't try to console her or tell her any kind words as she pulled her along in the opposite direction. Maybe Alexandria would have her own dance with the wind, one day.

"You're an asshole, Everette, and I never want to see you again! I want you out of here!" She pointed towards the door as she screamed but it made no effect. Everette stepped closer towards her and pushed her back down to the ground. "Stay down there, you fucking idiot. Don't you know how to listen? Don't you fucking get it?" He said, and kicked towards her feet as he did so. She tried to dodge his attacks, but it was no use. He was almost twice her size, and at least a foot taller than her.

She weaved underneath his grasp, and some people in the crowd gasped. Was this just entertainment for them? Why was nobody helping. Where was security? Were they all upstairs? What the hell was happening. "I'm so sick and tired of you thinking you get to do whatever you please!" He tossed another kick her direction. She wriggled on the white floors.

"That's how the world works, Everette!" She screamed back. "Shut the hell up, already!" He shouted and lobbed a kick straight towards her face, throwing her body backwards. She felt woozy as her head smacked against the floor. She was always a fighter, but maybe now wasn't the time for fighting. A voice in her head told her that this was the exact time for fighting, but she couldn't find the courage in her to do it.

It's like, at one point she might have been able to do it, but right now, she just couldn't. Her bones felt weak, and softer, like Jell-O. They warbled as she moved on top of the white marble floors. She was powerless against his attacks. She could try to hit him, but what could he do to her then? Nobody else was stepping in, it was like they were all too scared of him to move forward. Some people filmed on their phones while others silently whispered to each other. It was morbid, like some kind of gladiator freak show, and she was the losing prey.

She pulled her hand up towards her head and felt the blood pouring out of her nose. It was probably broken. And this was the man who was saying he wasn't abusive? The man who spoke to her as if his words were made of venom, and treated her as if she was worthless? The man who stalked her every move, and demanded to know where she was? The man who wanted to take her stars out of the sky and replace them with dark hideous replicas?

"I don't think you get it, Alex." He spoke out, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a blade and Alex could feel her heart drop towards her stomach.

It was like a praying mantis capturing it's prey and ripping its head off to nurse on the fallen ones body. It's bloody and brutal and grim, but it is reality and it was really happening. The prey and the predators. There was no way to escape death, and yet Alex found herself toying the line. She argued with the skeleton clad man. 'Please! It's not my time yet. Can't you see? Are you silly?' and he would reply with 'Yes, I know, but things happen, my dear. We can't all control the strong arms of fate, now can we?'

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One moment he was standing in front of her, and the next moment he was grappling on top of her with the knife plunged into her stomach, right below her ribs. There was no time to act, and there was no time to think. This time, the crowd all came bursting through. First one person, and then another, and another. They all jumped on top of Everette, pulling him away. Alex could feel the searing pain rushing through her body in indescribable ways.

Like fire coursing through her veins, or a thousand fire ants biting away at her body as she was alive. She saw as one person came up to her pressed their hand towards her wound. "Hold pressure!" They told her, as if she was supposed to remember. She felt the searing hot pain intensify as he applied pressure and she looked down towards his hands. Blood was spilling out at an alarming rate. He must have hit a blood vessel, or something, she thought towards herself.

"What happened?!" A booming voice called out, and she didn't have the will to look at who it was. She felt as the pressure of people changing on her wound took place, the first person slipping away so that this new person could take their place. "I did what I could." He said, staring down at her. "You did fine." The second voice replied.

Her vision was beginning to blur, and her ears began to ring. Despite this, she could still hear the voice speaking out to her. "Alex. You're going to be okay. It's okay. Just breath" But she couldn't. It felt like somebody was sitting on her lungs. She started to feel light headed as the pressure got tighter and tighter in her chest. She could hear people screaming and crying. Shouldn't she be the one crying? Actually, she was. Soft silent tears she hadn't realized were slipping down her face.

She leaned her head back into the lap of the person holding pressure on her wounds, and she could see Oliver. Her eyes fluttered a bit before she let them close. "Hey, stay away. The medical team is coming. Stay awake, please." She felt a warm hand get pressed on her cheek, causing her to open her eyes again. She tried to speak, but she couldn't

"Don't try to talk. You're going to be okay. I've got you. You're safe."

She wanted to know where Everette was. Was he nearby? Everyone saw what happened, right? This wasn't a dream? It was all starting to feel like a dream as the red blood seeped into the white marble floors, threatening to stain them pink. Her body eventually went numb, and it stopped registering the pain. Maybe this was all a dream.

She tried to speak again, realizing it felt like somebody was holding a rubber band around her vocal chords. What was happening? Alex was starting to black out.

Instead, Alexandria found herself sitting in the foyer in her own pool of blood. Maybe this was too familiar. Her chest ached, and she didn't know why. What put it there. This was too much. Too many memories. She remembered everything. The way the rain splattered down against the marble floor, or maybe, that wasn't rain, but it was actually her blood spilling out. Her memories were chopped up and rearranged, replaced for her to put in order, except, she couldn't remember how the events took place. They were still happening.

By the time the medics had arrived, Oliver had resorted to chest compressions on Alex. It was a risky option. If he provided CPR, he could essentially be pumping whatever blood was left in her body out through the stab wound. But if he didn't, Alex's brain could be starved of oxygen and she could literally die. She was going to die anyway, he told himself.

Despite the way he told Alex it would be okay, he didn't believe it. So much of his life was surrounded by death and destruction. Everything he loved, died. It's why he's shut himself off. What was the point in causing this much pain and suffering in somebodies life? He watched as the medical team promptly pulled her onto a stretcher and lifted it up as they raced through an opening in the crowd. Oliver followed them along their path.

They continued chest compressions, and they spoke to Alex. They told her it'd be okay, and that they'd working hard. Alex couldn't hear them. The hospital wing wasn't too far from the foyer by design, and they rushed to make sure they didn't waste any time. Oliver had to hurry to keep up with them.

"She's going to be alright, right?" Oliver asked out to one medic, who gave him a look as Alex was carted away into a surgery center. "Oliver... she's really hurt. He got her in her hepatic artery. She could die."

He nodded and brushed his hands through his hair. Just the other night he was placing his lips on hers, and tonight she's been stabbed. Tomorrow... he didn't want to think about tomorrow. He looked at his button up shirt and noticed that it was soak in blood. Her blood. "Why don't you take a seat?"

He walked over towards the waiting room area and sat down. He had been in this position many a'time before this. When his dad was sick, he was young, so his memories of the waiting room were different. When his mom was sick, it was filled with sorrowful nights sitting on the couches, studying in the waiting rooms, and actually using it for its assigned purpose.

Now, he found himself here again. Instead of as a nurse, but as a patient. It felt agonizing. Like somebody had taken away you right to breath, and you were left to suffocate on your own. He couldn't focus straight. His eyes stared at the double doors to the hallways, but his mind was focused on Alex, and his parents, and his sister, and Avery. He needed to text Avery.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to be met with a barrage of messages. He was going to have to get everything sorted, and he couldn't focus. That was his main priority. Something wasn't right. Everette had done the thing he had worried about doing. He had really tried to kill her. He could feel a sort of sick feeling rising in his stomach and swirling around, throbbing. He walked over to the trash can and vomited into it as his breakfast came hurling up.

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 months ago

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Sanji, Warrior of the Sea

So, um, my husband very specifically asked for this fic so everybody pls thank Mr. Nehs; this is very silly; things don’t happen in here precisely as in the series canon, but what do I care?; essentially rated T but with a bunch of strong cussing (and that bathhouse scene) so be warned I guess; no shipping unless you put goggles on idc

Sanji, fresh out of Whole Cake Island, decides to make good of a shit situation and have Franky tinker with his raid suit. He just didn't take one thing into account: NERDS. [3696 words]

The weight of the canister was heavy in Sanji’s hand as he removed it from his inner jacket pocket. He and the rest of the crew were headed towards Wano, where the advance party was already in place. Leaning against the railing of the Sunny, he was tempted to chuck the thing as far as he could and forget about it, leaving the device to the briny depths of the ocean. It was only just barely slipped to him by Reiju, her ability for sleight of hand almost nostalgic.

“Use it better than we ever did,” she had whispered, and then had been gone. Now he was leagues upon leagues away, with little instruction on how or why.

He might have been his mother’s son, but as he held the device he thought of his father and what he would say. The geezer would cuss and kick him with the peg, most likely, but would also tell him to figure out a way to use it better than those sacks of skin that called themselves his family. Beat them at their own game and all that shit. He weighed his options: use it, shove it deep in his locker, or fucking yeet the piece of garbage as far as he could, use Moonwalk to catch it, and then throw it again for maximum coverage.

Then again, when he boiled it down, there was one more option that he needed to consider…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“You want me to what?” Franosuke slurped up soba as he looked at the device in Sangoro’s hand. It didn’t look like much, but from what the cook was implying, it was honestly one of the highest-tech pieces of equipment either of them had ever touched, which was impressive given the present company.

“See what you can do about making this thing… better,” Sangoro said. “I got it from my sister—Father thought he knew best and made one for each of us.”

“…even though you hate him?”

“He was hoping that I’d… come around one day.” Franosuke scoffed at that. “You get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, yeah; I get you, brother,” Franosuke chuckled. He held out his hand and Sangoro handed over the device. “Usohachi and I are supposed to be hanging out tonight to work on some other projects, so I think we can fit this in.”

“Thanks; I owe you one,” Sangoro said. “Burgers might be a stretch, but I think I can manage some steak if you want.”

“Nah… I’ll take a rain check on that. Too busy this week.” Franosuke pocketed the device and went back to his soba. “This is good eatin’ though. Wouldn’t mind maybe an extra serving of this.”

Eh; he’d think about it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sanji kicked the dinosaur in the face, hard. Who the fuck was this guy, thinking he could just destroy people’s lives just because he was searching for him? He hated assholes like this, acting like nothing they ever did came with consequence, and he’d had enough. Taking the canister out of his kimono sleeve, he activated it, knowing that although he could take the asshole without it, he was going to need some seriously big guns to stop him before anyone else got hurt in the middle of the sleeping city.

Out of the canister came a costume, which wrapped around his body with precision accuracy. Sanji could feel that the fabrics were different from what his sperm donor had engineered and he was put more at-ease because of it. The raid suit finished forming and he felt damn good, like he was taking everything those bastards worked for and was pissing and ashing on it simultaneously. His opponent scoffed, however, or at least as much as a spinosaur could.

“Are you mocking me?!” he growled. “Real men don’t use a fight to play dress-up.”

“That’s selling it short,” Sanji smirked. He pressed his fingertips to the side of the helmet, activating the sensors. Varied readouts and stats flashed across the visor—bingo.

Using Moonwalk, Sanji bounced around in the air, confusing the shit-mannered mook until he was able to find an opening. Once he saw it, he acted swiftly, slamming a flaming foot into the back of the dinosaur’s neck. His opponent was knocked out cold without him damaging any other buildings.

“That’ll teach you,” he smirked. He watched as the spinosaur shrank down to a Human shape. Tch; asshole had no right to challenge him. It was then, however, that Sanji heard a surprised gasp. He turned around and saw… Traffy…?

“Holy shit,” Traffy marveled. “It’s Sora!” Sanji cringed at the sound of his mother’s name—what the fuck?!

“I’m no one!” he claimed. “Just… uh… just passing through!” Traffy replaced himself with a pebble and got directly within Sanji’s personal bubble, touching his cape and admiring his clothes.

“The attention to detail is absolutely exquisite,” he said. “Excellent craftsmanship; they spared no expense.”

“Get off me,” Sanji grumbled. Where the fuck was Traffy when the dino-jerk attacked? Way to have shit timing. He pulled the cloak out of Law’s hand and sneered. “Don’t touch the goods.”

“Uh… yes, sir,” Traffy mumbled. Sanji did not like the way his captain’s ally was looking at him, so he took one step back, found where the settings were, and… oh, thank fuck, Franky kept it. He turned on the cloaking device, essentially granting him invisibility, hoping it would allow for a quick getaway.

Trafalgar Law instead squealed like little kid…? Oh, he did not have enough smokes on-hand to unpack that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Okay, granted, Sanji knew that sliding into the mixed baths was going to be trouble. He was likely to see way too much man peen for his liking, not to mention be in a position to get caught, but it was worth it to spy on wome—ahem—test the limits of his raid suit. Opportunities like this were becoming fewer and farther between as everyone prepared for the upcoming raid on Onigashima, and he needed to know exactly what the thing could do before throwing himself headlong into battle.

It was practical, okay? Field testing. Tactical information gathering.

Oh, there were a lot of women in the bathhouse that afternoon that made his heart race and the front of his pants feel tight. He swallowed hard as he watched them all from his perch in the rafters, above where others might see his invisible form displacing steam. The desire to palm himself was almost unbearable—this was definitely good… erm… data he was collecting.

Usopp was going to shit bricks when he told him what this thing could do.

Then, suddenly, he saw her come out of the changing room: Nami. All others seemed to fade into nothingness as he drank in the beauty of her in a towel. She was gorgeous, as always, with her silky skin and curvaceous body. A paragon amongst goddesses, she was, and it was enough for him to cave. He put his gloved hand on the front of his crotch and felt how hard his cock was underneath it all. Beloved Nami-swan, who graciously allowed the world to merely glimpse a tiny fraction of her beauty, was right here for all to see, and she was only in a towel.

Sanji stayed where he was for a moment while Nami was attempting to lay low, which was near-impossible thanks to all the looks she was getting. The local ladies loved her—fine by him—but… wait a second?! What were those men doing leering at her?! How dare they! He was certain that they couldn’t appreciate Nami like was right and proper! What did they know about a woman’s form? There was no way these men knew what he, a true connoisseur, did after all! He was so incensed by their unrefined palates that he nearly did not notice the new person walk in: Hawkins.

Shit; he was looking for people with the reverse crescent moon tattoo. A bathhouse was the perfect place to look for such a thing, wasn’t it? Oh no, what was he going to do?! He couldn’t give away his position, but Nami might be in danger. Well, she was strong and could take care of herself, but did she have her Climatact tucked away under the towel? What about the other women? He didn’t trust these losers to protect them, not to mention the fact that Nami shouldn’t have to protect herself unless there wasn’t a man like him around! Shit, shit shit… how was he going to explain this…? His infidelity to Nami’s beauty…?

Then it happened.

Like a shimmering light shining forth in the darkness!

A beacon of hope for all those who felt lost!

The pinnacle of the feminine form!

Nami-swan dropped her towel!

Maximum full-frontal!!

Sanji couldn’t take it any longer! Oh, the unfettered beauty! The pristine curves! The raw, natural majesty! He blacked for a moment, for the next thing he knew he was covered in blood down his front and everyone was staring at him.

Oh shit.

“Drake…” Hawkins said, his voice cracking high. He didn’t pull his eyes off Sanji despite the fact he was trying to gesture and grab at the same time with the arm closest to the door. “Drake, it’s him!”

“Did you find a suspect?” asked a voice from the foyer. X Drake… oh, the last thing he needed was another dinosaur idiot to deal with. Drake stepped into the bath area and glared at Hawkins, though once he saw Nami he froze in place, eyes wide and face red in blush. “That’s not a suspect, is it?”

“Not her, you idiot!” Hawkins hissed. “It’s Sora!” There was that name again! It was really beginning to grate on Sanji’s nerves, but he guessed he could handle it if it meant that Hawkins and Drake were distracted enough to let the people who were escaping… well… escape. Hawkins side-shuffled over to Drake and touched the other man’s face, turning it towards Sanji.

When Drake’s eyes finally followed his face, his jaw flopped open.

“It’s Sora, Warrior of the Sea!” Drake gasped. “That’s his vintage uniform from the Jutrich Island Saga!”

“Specifically his landing in Kester,” Hawkins agreed. By now, Sanji was on his feet and feeling incredibly awkward—what the fuck were they talking about? “He is more dashing in person, isn’t he?”

“That’s… not the word I’d use.”

“That is because you have no taste.”

“What in the hell are you two talking about?” Sanji scoffed. He activated the readouts on his visor again and they showed that the three of them were quickly becoming the only ones in the building—excellent.

“Surely you jest,” Hawkins said, trying to sound casual. “That uniform? The cape? Helmet? You are none other than Sora, Warrior of the Sea, taken straight from the comic pages.”

…comic pages?!

“Neither of you have known the touch of a woman, have you?” Sanji deadpanned.

“Like you’re one to talk!” Nami snapped. Sanji glanced over towards her and saw that a robe was now covering her as she scrambled to leave with, wait, Robin-chan was there too?! Oh, and they were there with Shinobu. He needed to make sure they got out safely, but with the way these two were… seas… ogling him, he wasn’t sure that they’d get out of there if he moved even an inch. “Keep them distracted! We’ll meet you later!”

“Nami-swan, I…!” Sanji reached out with his hand, but he was too late… she was gone. He let his hand clench into a fist and turned towards Hawkins and Drake, who both seemed too star-struck to care that potential captives were fleeing the scene. “You two made me lose my chance with Nami-swan!”

“I didn’t think he’d be based off a real person,” Drake marveled. He looked… deeply confused, but also like he wanted to screech happily like a little kid that just found a frog.

“You need to answer us something,” Hawkins said. He somehow narrowed his eyes further. “Something only the real Sora would know: how did you escape from Germa 66’s clutches in the Gezelligate Arc?”

Sanji was ready to murder something.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law stood in the prison corridor, Drake not too far away, as he waited impaitently. He didn’t like doing it this way—neither did the dinosaur, it seemed—but at least it was doable. It could fit in his grand plan. Not very well, but it fit.

“Here you are,” Hawkins announced from around the corner. Law’s ears perked up and he watched as the aforementioned Supernova led Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo into view, all three of his crewmates half-in tears.

“We’re sorry, Captain!” Bepo sniffled. “We didn’t mean to get caught!”

“No worries,” he replied coolly. “I know something they don’t realize.

“What’s that?” Penguin wondered. Law simply smirked and opened a Room.

“The famed Warrior of the Sea is on our side.”

Before his crewmates had a chance to react, Law swapped them out with pebbles and dropped the Room. He held up his arms in surrender, unable to not laugh at the look of horror on Hawkins’s face.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t think I knew?” He felt Drake put seastone cuffs on him from behind, jostling him roughly. “Hey, watch the goods—I need those hands to perform surgery.”

“Like you have a medical degree,” Drake grumbled.

“…and for all I know, you’re probably still a cop,” Law scoffed. For that, Drake pushed him towards Hawkins, letting their prisoner stumble into the dirt floor. “Hit a nerve?”

“You know what? I don’t even care anymore.” Drake took a step back before turning to walk away. “Do whatever hoodoo nonsense you want to him. I’m washing my hands of it.”

“Hoodoo is a completely different discipline,” Hawkins droned, “but I’ll try.” He snapped his fingers and two Pleasures guards came by to lift Law from the floor and drag him off to a torture cell. “I’ll make him regret invoking the name of Sora.”

Law chuckled to himself as the mooks dragged him away. These two losers were in for it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Okay, mooks taken out and transported to varied Flower Capitol alleyways, check. Hawkins—aka: Senior Mook—unconscious and bleeding out on the floor, check. His sword and hat back—check. Information he pried out of Senior Mook before allowing him to pass out. Check and noted. Law was feeling good as he got ready to leave the prison house. Just a few more moment of checking out the outlying areas with his Devil Fruit and he could accurately pinpoint a safe getaway. He stepped out into the corridor and began to walk out—he was a free man, after all.

“Trafalgar.” Oh, yeah, there was one more that he didn’t get rid of, though to be honest, it felt like an afterthought. He turned and saw Drake standing there, staring at him with an… well, the look eas cryptic, that was for certain.

“You’re not stopping me,” Law said casually. “I’m finding a place to go as we speak.”

“Then before you leave, I have a request,” Drake said. Law raised an eyebrow.

“What’s a not-cop want from a humble pirate like myself?”

“Do you think…” Drake blushed, not believing he was saying this. “I mean… could you get me an autograph from Sora?”

“We’re on different sides… you know that, right?”

“All my time I was in the Navy, he was their best-kept secret. To get an autograph from one of the best special ops agent? Whose solo work inspired all of us? It might get you a favor or two.”

“Hmm… I’ll think about it.”

In a flash, the man vanished and an upset tomcat appeared in his place.

Well, it was worth a shot.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What the fuck did you do to this thing?!” Sanji hissed, shoving his raid suit in Franky’s face. The cyborg simply scoffed and kept on eating.

“I improved it—made it super—just like you asked, brother,” he replied. It was the night before they were to raid Onigashima and all he wanted was some relaxation time before putting his nose to the grindstone. The surrounding area was a mishmash collection of their crew and varied allies, whether reluctant or not, the vast majority not paying attention to them. “I don’t know why you’re so pissed off.”

“I’m pissed off because I keep on running into weirdos and creeps who think I look like a comic book character!” Sanji complained. “Did you design it to look like something else, or did you use an original design?!”

“It’s just a little thing I remember from when I was a kid,” Franky shrugged. “Every so often in Water 7 we’d get these collection books of this super comic where a guy with a robot and pet seagull would fight bad guys. Only ever got a couple of books—flat broke compared with only ever seeing random volumes. Probably wasn’t something that did too well.”

“It did well enough that three different people have called me by the exact same name,” Sanji scowled. “What was the name of the comic?”

“I dunno—Sorne… Sorley… Sohan… Solly…” Franky snapped his fingers between each name as he tried to remember. “…Sorrel… Soslan… Sota… Sora…”

“That’s it!” Sanji shouted, pointing at Franky. Ooohhhhh… he couldn’t believe this was happening! “That’s what those nutjobs keep calling me!”

“Sora…?” A moment, then it clicked. “Oh yeah, that’s right! Sora, Warrior of the Sea! Kind of a weird series if you ask me. Total Naval propaganda. Then again, I was only really there for the robot…”

Sanji screamed in anguish and began to storm away, stomping his feet angrily as he went off to have an entire packet of smokes at once. He slammed his shoulder into Law on his way, which caused the other to stop and glare—what the hell…?

“What’s the matter with him?” he asked Franky. The cyborg simply shrugged.

“No whimsy,” he claimed. “Meanwhile, I’m full of it this week.”

Law simply shrugged and walked off—not his crew, not his problem.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was the Raid on Onigashima. Sanji was attempting to hold his own against the throng of solders that were coming at him. Okay, so he wasn’t attempting so much as succeeding, but it was beginning to wear on his nerves that each time he knocked one of the Beast Pirate freaks down, five more popped up in their place. It was like there was a never-ending sea of them waking up and he smelled like breakfast.

Suddenly, over the din of the battle, Sanji heard a familiar scream. He looked up and saw that Kaidou was up on a balcony, holding Momonosuke over the drop that would have the boy splatter on the Performance Floor. As much as he wanted to trust that Momonosuke could turn into a dragon and fly away once let go, he also didn’t trust that Kaidou or any of his goons had gone and put seastone on—let alone in—the kid.

Shit. No matter what, this wasn’t going to be good. He could let the perverted little shrimp fall to his potential doom, but… Nami would be really pissed at him for letting that happen, wouldn’t she? Not to mention Luffy. Damn it. Sanji decided to break out the big guns and put on his raid suit, immediately cloaking himself in invisibility. The Beast Pirates he had been fighting all stared in confusion—there had been someone there before, wasn’t there?

As Sanji catapulted himself up into the air with Moonwalk, Kaidou did precisely what Sanji thought he would and dropped Momonosuke. Lucky, he was able to snatch the kid after he fell only a few feet, bringing him back up to Kaidou’s level while still invisible.

“What the fuck is this?” Kaidou slurred. He grabbed a large bottle of sake from a nearby Beast Pirate and took a swig—he clearly didn’t know if he was too drunk or not drunk enough. “I didn’t think little piss-brats like you could fly.”

“Who has hold of me?!” Momonosuke whispered in a panic. He grabbed hold of Sanji’s cape and attempted to pull it around himself. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Sanji grumbled. Someone unseen threw a rock, meaning to hit Momonosuke but hitting Sanji in the side of his helmet instead. His cloaking device sparked before fizzling out—it overloaded and needed some time to reactivate.

“Who the fuck are you?” Kaidou frowned. He did not seem like he was very amused by the whole thing.

“Hey, I know that tech,” Queen realized. “You’re one of Judge’s brats, aren’t you?”

“Wrong: I’m Sora’s boy,” Sanji spat. Without another word, he turned on his heel mid-air and jettisoned himself towards the Performance Floor. There, he was able to spot a trio of Traffy’s men—the Mink and two of the ones with dumb hats—and he tossed Momonosuke at them. “Keep him safe until someone approved comes to get him, alright?”

“Yes, sir, Sora, sir!” Penguin said as he picked up Momonosuke. Shachi saluted. Fuck… more of them…

“Uh… guys…” Bepo seemed to be uncomfortable. “That’s just one of the Straw Hats…”

“Bepo, Bepo, Bepo…” Shachi tutted. “Here we thought we raised you right! The Captain said it’s Sora, so it has to be Sora!”

“…but that’s clearly…”

“Sora!” Stupid One and Stupid Two said in unison. Sanji honestly felt ready to kill them both, Traffy and the alliance be damned. At least the Mink was able to use his brain…

“There he is!” Sanji looked over his shoulder and saw Law, Hawkins, and Drake all running towards him. Shit! He turned his attention towards the Mink and nodded gravely.

“All of you are from the same place, aren’t you?”

“The North Blue, yeah,” Bepo said, “but I’m originally from Zou.”

“Then I thank you for your service,” Sanji replied. The Mink seemed puzzled, only to yelp in surprise as Sanji picked him up and tossed him at the three incoming Supernovas before running away.

Goddamned nerds needed to leave him the fuck alone!

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #Sanji #Sanji (One Piece)#Franky #Franky (One Piece)#Trafalgar Law #Basil Hawkins #X Drake #Bepo #Penguin (One Piece)#Shachi (One Piece)#Sora Warrior of the Sea #this is absolutely goofy and I love it #Trafalgar D. Water Law #Vinsmoke Sanji

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