"Vice Admiral Garp!"
"This storm is wrong!"
"The weather's unnatural— even the magnetic field's gone haywire!"
"What the hell is happening?!"
A dog-headed battleship knifed through mountains of water, tossed up like a toy in a giant's palm. Cloaked Marines fought the wheel, boots skidding across the drenched deck as waves slammed the hull and wind howled like a furnace.
"Keep her straight! No matter what, we don't let Roger slip us!" Garp stood at the bow in his dog-headed cap, rain streaking down his lined face, eyes red with sleeplessness. After half a month of pursuit, his detachment was at its limit—any ordinary force would have turned back long ago.
Which only meant Roger's crew were worse off.
"Roger, I won't let you reach the Final Island," he muttered, fists clenching until the knuckles cracked, faint red-black arcs dancing across the bones.
Purupuru… Purupuru…
A Den Den Mushi began to trill beneath his coat. Garp fished out the Military snail, scowled at the caller, and cut the line without a word.
Headquarters. No doubt Sengoku.
Not now.
"Vice Admiral Garp—urgent from Admiral Sengoku." Bogard appeared at his shoulder, grave as stone, proffering another Military snail.
"I'm not answering!" Garp snapped. "That old buzzard's just calling to make me clean up some mess. 'Master Strategist'? Master Imbecile! I'm not wiping his—"
"Sir," Bogard said delicately, "the line is already open."
Garp: …
His face darkened. He shot Bogard a murderous look, snatched the receiver, and boomed, all honeyed thunder, "Bwahahaha! Sengoku, old friend! What could possibly demand my humble assistance? Though I imagine your genius has things well in hand—so I'll just hang up—"
"Garp, you bastard!" Sengoku roared through the shell. "If you hang up I'm never giving you senbei again!"
Garp stiffened, teeth bared. "What do you want?! I've got Roger cornered. I'm about to bag the whole lot!"
"You're full of it! Bogard already reported—you lost him!"
Garp's eye twitched. He spun to glare—Bogard had vanished.
"Whatever," Garp snarled. "It's only a matter of time. Either way, I'm not turning back. Whatever needs doing, that brat Darren can handle."
Sengoku's voice went cold. "And what if the 'problem' is Darren?"
Garp froze.
---
Half an hour later, the dog-headed battleship burst out of the maelstrom and belly-flopped onto calmer sea. Marines collapsed where they stood, staring up at blue sky as if it were a hallucination, then back at the storm wall devouring the horizon.
News Coos wheeled down from the clouds and scattered fresh papers. The men grabbed them, scanned the front pages—and blanched.
"This… how…?"
"Vice Admiral Darren—"
"Defied the World Government?!"
They trembled, eyes drawn as one to Garp's broad back at the bow.
"Damn it!" Garp spun and kicked a barrel halfway across the deck, eyes crimson. "Of all times—now?!"
He looked again into the storm: an immense vortex was forming, latticed with lightning. Frustration flared so hot veins stood out along his hands and temples.
"Turn back!" he roared.
He cast one last look into the squall. A hollow dread flooded his chest, the iron certainty that he'd just missed something vital—something he'd regret.
---
New World, Pleasure District. Central Hotel, top-floor suite.
"Understood, Your Excellencies." Stussy's tone was cool as she nodded to the Military Den Den Mushi. "I'll mobilize every Underworld channel to locate Rogers Darren and the North Blue Fleet."
The line clicked dead. She studied the sleeping snail for a beat, then rose in a whisper of silk.
Her white, form-hugging CP0 dress hugged every lethal curve; black fishnets framed long, poised legs. She turned toward the room's darkest corner.
He was already there—soaked in blood, aura thinned to a flicker, stretched along the leather settee like a dying candle. He hadn't been sensed entering. He hadn't needed to be.
Stussy was silent for a heartbeat. Then her lips curved, red and sharp.
"You're so sure I won't betray you?"
Pitch-black, demonic bat wings unfurled from her back. Her poise shifted in an instant; blood-red eyes glimmered with a faint, hungry light.
"The world's most wanted criminal… Rogers Darren."
To be continued...