The door slammed shut, sealing them in with a thud that rattled Dr. Visser's vials of neon nectar. The sludge surged against the reinforced steel, hissing like a thousand serpents, its pink glow throbbing through the cracks. Bram braced his shoulder against the door, veins bulging. "Now what?" he growled. "Plan's ash. Again."
Marya leaned against a bubbling SAD vat, Eternal Eclipse humming impatiently at her back. "Nothing changes. We blow the lab, flood the fields—"
"—and drown ourselves in the process?" Bram snapped. "Brilliant."
Law ignored them, his amber eyes locked on Dr. Visser. She hunched over her microscope, hands trembling, lab coat stained the same saccharine pink as the sludge. "Processing vats. Where?"
She didn't look up. "I… don't know."
"They have your daughter." Bram braced his arms against the table, forcing her to look up. "Where? Don't you want to be with her?"
Dr. Visser's breath hitched. "You think I haven't tried? They move her. Every month. New island, new cell—"
"Documents," Law cut in, cold. "Supply routes. Contacts. Anything."
"Burn it all!" Bram kicked a stool, sending it clattering into a shelf of lily samples. Petals rained down, brittle and stinking of decay. "Waste of time!"
Dr. Visser flinched as the stool clattered across the floor. "C-Caesar Clown…" she whispered. "He… he synthesizes the nectar here into SMILE serum. At Punk Hazard."
Law's jaw tightened. "And the other ingredients?"
"I don't know!" Her voice broke. "They're shipped in barrels—black, no labels. Smell like… burnt hair and copper."
Bepo sniffed the air, gagging. "That's the… copper?"
Outside, the Gifters' roars climax—deformed pumas clawing at the walls, petal-scaled snakes slithering through vents. The door groaned under their weight.
Marya pressed. "Where's Punk Hazard's supply come from?"
"I don't—" Dr. Visser crumpled. "North!" she sobbed. "Winter islands, maybe! The barrels… they're cold. Frosted when they arrive."
Law's mind raced. North Blue? Germa? No—Kaido's reach didn't stretch that far. Vegapunk?
Bram slammed his fist against the door. "We're out of time!"
Law grabbed Dr. Visser's wrist, yanking her to her feet. "You're coming."
"N-no!" She struggled, eyes wild. "If I leave, they'll kill her!"
A gargantuan thud shook the lab. The door dented inward, sludge oozing through like infected pus. Bepo whimpered. "C-Captain…"
Law's Room flared blue. "Shambles."
The world twisted—lab equipment swapped with rubble from the corridor beyond. They reappeared in a storage closet, the stench of mildew and gunpowder choking the air. Dr. Visser retched.
Marya glared at Law. "Punk Hazard. That's your play?"
Law adjusted his hat, shadow hiding his eyes. "Cut the head. The body dies."
Dr. Visser stared at the floor, Doflamingo's sigil shimmering under a layer of grime. Jolly Roger. Laughing. Always laughing.
Bram's boot scuffed the grime-coated floor, kicking up dust that shimmered neon under the lab's failing lights. "This the only lab?" he barked at Dr. Visser, looming like a storm cloud. "Or you got more hellholes pumping poison?"
Dr. Visser pressed her back to the wall, her lab coat smearing pink sludge across a poster of Doflamingo's grinning jolly roger. "I've told you—I won't risk my daughter!" Her voice frayed, high and brittle, but her eyes—there. A flicker of steel beneath the terror.
Marya tilted her head, arms crossed, as she leaned against the wall. "We don't need her," she said, calm as a frozen lake. Her gaze slid to Law, the void veins under her sleeves pulsing faintly. "Scan the island. My mist could—"
"No," Law snapped, his voice slicing through the humid air. "Your power's a grenade in a glass house. Lose control, and we're all choking on void."
Marya's smirk didn't waver, but her fingers tightened. "You doubt me?"
"I doubt everything."
Bepo's ears twitched, fur bristling at the tension. "C-Captain… what do we do?"
Law opened his mouth—
KABOOM.
The explosion rocked the foundation, dust and debris raining from the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, a voice cackled—high, unhinged, familiar—followed by the wet splat of sludge geysering against walls.
Marya's stoic mask cracked—just a sliver. Her nostrils flared, eyes narrowing with something akin to… interest. "That laugh. It's the Bang-Bang girl, from before."
Dr. Visser paled. "One of Caesar's… pets?"
Law's Room flared, blue light slicing through the dust. "Move. Now."
Marya followed, but not before crushing Doflamingo's sigil under her boot, the painted grin smearing into oblivion.
*****
The resistance hideout stank of mildew and damp. Lotte crouched over a table cluttered with rusted gears, her braids fraying at the ends as she sketched a map onto a scrap of burlap. Klaas leaned heavily on his cane, monocle glinting as he traced the lines of Nieuw Bloemendaal's skeletal aqueduct system—once veins of trade, now necrotic with neglect.
"The old spice tunnels," Klaas muttered, finger hovering over a collapsed passage. "Used to run under Windmill No. 7. If we clear the rubble…"
"—it'll take weeks!" Lotte snapped, slamming a wrench down. A jar of Sanguine Lily nectar trembled, its pink glow painting her face in feverish hues. "The Overseers'll sniff us out by then!"
Outside, the zombified farmers shuffled past, their black clogs scraping cobblestones in eerie unison. Their eyes, glassy and nectar-drunk, reflected the neon canals like dead mirrors.
Klaas sighed, adjusting his cracked monocle. "You're thinking like a mechanic. Think like a storyteller." He tapped a faded mural on the wall—a lion crest (De Oranje Schaduw's symbol) entwined with tulips. "They're programmed to follow the lilies. So… give them a new scent to chase."
Lotte's nose wrinkled. "Like what? Perfume?"
"Hope," Klaas said, dry as bone. "Or failing that, pheromones."
They cobbled together a plan from scraps:
- Lotte's Contribution: A jury-rigged pump stolen from the fields, modified to spray a mist of diluted antidote (stolen from Dr. Visser's lab) mixed with crushed tulip pollen—"To make it smell like Before," she'd grumbled.
- Klaas's Contribution: A crumbling ledger detailing the island's pre-Doflamingo trade routes, including a half-forgotten hymn to the Dutch royal lion—"Sing it. They'll remember in their bones."
They tested it on a farmer boy, no older than twelve, his cheeks hollowed by nectar rationing. Lotte aimed the pump; Klaas hummed the hymn, voice crackling like an old record.
The mist hit. The boy froze, pupils dilating. For a heartbeat, clarity flickered. He reached for Lotte's sleeve. "…Mama?"
Then he convulsed, retching pink bile.
"Too strong!" Klaas coughed, waving away the pollen.
Lotte kicked the pump. "Or not strong enough!"
The breakthrough came via vermin. A rat, fur matted with neon sludge, scurried into a drainage grate. Lotte's eyes lit up—cute!—and she yanked the grate open, revealing a warren of forgotten storm drains.
"The rats!" she crowed. "They avoid the nectar. Follow them!"
Klaas peered into the dark, smelling iron and rot. "The drains lead to the aquifers. Flood the fields, flush the poison…"
"—and the rats guide the people out!" Lotte finished, grinning.
They painted De Oranje Schaduw's lion crest along the tunnel walls using glow-in-the-dark lily pigment. "Subconscious trigger," Klaas explained. "Even hollowed-out souls recognize home."
When the Overseers came sniffing, Lotte detonated a pollen bomb—BOOM!—filling the air with golden tulip dust. Farmers paused, nostrils flaring, then shuffled toward the drains like sleepwalkers drawn by a lullaby.
Klaas watched, tears cutting through the grime on his cheeks. "They're… following."
Lotte punched the air, smudged with soot and triumph. "Told you mechanics beat storytelling!"
"Hn. Without my hymns, they'd be lost."
"Without my pumps, they'd be puke!"
****
Ikkaku's SAD barrel rolled toward the base of the Blood Dike with all the grace of a drunken seagull, wobbling over cracked cobblestones before slamming into the algae-slicked wood. Jean Bart winced as she struck a match off her teeth, the flame dancing in her grinning mouth.
"Fire in the hole!"
BOOM.
The explosion sent a spray of neon sludge and splinters skyward—but the dike barely shuddered. A single board cracked, oozing brackish water before the pressure of a thousand ship hulls patched it back together.
"...Well that was anticlimactic," Uni muttered, adjusting his goggles as pink-tinged seawater dribbled pathetically onto his boots.
Then the Gifters came.
A deformed puma-man, claws barred as it charged. Overseers in blackened clogs clattered down the dike's spine, whips snapping at the air like angry serpents.
Jean Bart sighed, cracking his knuckles. "Should've rolled more barrels."
The other half of the crew came running from the docks. "You trying to have a party without us?" Shachi sliced his katana, and a deformed pig-man Gifter fell over the railing.
Clione's staff smacked a fish-gifter straight into the canal. "Thought your orders were 'find weaknesses'?" he called over the chaos.
Hakugan's twin blades carved through vine-wrapped enforcers. "Thought you were finding the Tang!"
"We did!" Penguin ducked a flying clog. "Turns out it's here!"
Shachi flipped a Bloom Token into an Overseer's gaping mouth. "Surprise! It was up our asses the whole time!"
The "plan" dissolved into beautiful, catastrophic pandemonium:
The petal-scaled snake lunged, its maw dripping nectar, but Ikkaku sidestepped with a cackle, wrench already hooked under its jaw. "C'mere, daisy-face!" She yanked hard, the serpent's thorny tail thrashing as she looped it around a rusted pylon. Its scales—iridescent tulip petals—shivered in protest, shedding a rain of crimson and gold. "Perfect timing!" she crowed, boots stomping rhythmically as she vaulted over the creature's coiled body. The Gifter hissed, venomous fangs gnashing air, while Overseers gaped at the spectacle. Shachi whooped, "Ten berries says she trips!"
Ikkaku retorted, "You're buying drinks when I hit fifty!" The snake's floral stench—rotten roses and overripe citrus—filled the air as petals scattered like confetti.
Jean Bart's laughter boomed over the din as he hefted a SAD barrel, its "HERBAL REMEDY" label peeling like a bad joke. A deformed puma-man charged, coat matted with sludge, jaws wide enough to swallow a mast. "Fetch!" he roared, punting the barrel with a kick that cracked the cobblestones. The puma-man chomped instinctively—CRUNCH—before its eyes bulged, nectar foaming between its teeth. BOOM. The blast vaporized its coat into a cloud of charred petals, leaving the beast bald, coughing, and thoroughly offended.
"Looks better bald!" Penguin shouted, dodging a flying claw.
Jean Bart grinned, wiping neon gunk from his beard. "Kaido's new fashion line: Explosive Chic."
Uni ducked a whip's strike, goggles flickering with reflected data as he scribbled equations on his forearm. "If we apply force at a 32-degree angle to the dike's third support beam—" A deformed man-snake lunged; he pirouetted aside, still muttering. "—accounting for tidal pressure and rot density—"
Clione yanked him backward as a SAD barrel detonated nearby. "Uni! Less math, more stabbing!"
Uni adjusted his goggles, indignant. "Fine! But when the dike collapses asymmetrically, don't blame me!" He lobbed a smoke bomb, its pink haze reeking of burnt licorice, and resumed shouting coordinates nobody heard.
Hakugan's blades flashed, severing three Overseer whips mid-crack. "Too slow—" he taunted, until the leather strands twisted in midair, braiding into a serpentine lash that snapped back with a vengeance. THWACK. The blow landed square on his backside, sending him stumbling into a puddle of glowing sludge.
"OW! CHEATING SONS OF—" The Overseers howled, slapping their knees. "Teach ya to disrespect tradition!" one jeered.
Shachi nearly doubled over laughing. "That's what you get for being fancy!"
Hakugan peeled sludge off his coat, scowling. "Next time, I'm using your face as a shield."
The crew's chaos escalated as Windmill No. 4 erupted in the distance, painting the sky in psychedelic hues. For a heartbeat, they froze—Ikkaku mid-jump, Hakugan dripping sludge, Uni's equations half-smudged.
Then—
KABOOOOOM!
The horizon lit up in a fireball of pink and gold as Windmill No. 4 erupted, gears and lily nectar raining down like hell's confetti.
Silence.
Penguin blinked. "...Isn't that where the Captain is?"
Clione paled. "Oh fuck."
Jean Bart sighed. "We're all dead."
The crew collectively gulped.
*****
The Paper Serpent's deck reeked of salt and chemical sweetness, Captain Umeko Ozias's horns crackling with static as he strode toward the gangplank. Behind him, Amaru Valentine leaned against the mast, picking SAD residue from his rifle's barrel. "Explosions, secret labs, and Mihawk's kid?" He blew a kiss toward the flaming horizon. "Best. Vacation. Ever."
Ozul Crow gripped the railing, his katana Aetherius humming like a tuning fork struck by starlight. The explosion over the Blood Dike painted the sky in bruise-purple and neon pink, its reflection warping in his cracked monocle. "Venus retrograde in the house of ruin…" he murmured, dreadlocks swaying as he tilted his head. "The stars sing of fractures. Of keys."
Amaru snorted. "They also sing 'get a hobby'?"
"SUPERNOVA SMASH TIME?!"
Akako Zinnia vaulted from the crow's nest, Baretto the devil-bear plush clutched in one hand, her colossal hammer in the other. The impact cracked the deck, splinters flying. "Can I? Can I? Pleeeeease?"
Ozias didn't turn. His dark eyes tracked Clione, Hakugan, Penguin, and Shachi sprinting toward the chaos in their Heart Pirate overalls. The docks shuddered under their boots, neon sludge sloshing over the edges, hissing as it dissolved a stray lobster Gifter's claw.
"Captain~!" Amaru drawled, twirling Lady Luck. "Orders? Flirt with the locals? Shoot someone?"
Ozul's voice sharpened. "The explosion… it's a convergence. Law's there. The girl too."
Akako gasped. "Ooh! The sword lady! Can I smash her sword?"
Ozias's jaw flexed, memories of chains and Celestial laughter itching beneath his coat. He flicked a Marine dart from his sleeve, its tip still crusted with old blood. "Set course."
Amaru saluted, grin sharp. "Aye-aye, Grumpasaurus."
As the Paper Serpent's sails billowed, Ozul sliced the air with Aetherius, its blade scattering prismatic light across the sludge-stained waves. "The lion battles the spider in the house of ash…"
"Translation?" Amaru called, racking his rifle.
"We're about to ruin someone's day."
Akako squealed, hammer spinning. "Baretto says thank you!"
The ship lurched forward, cutting through the neon-frothed waves like a blade through silk. Ahead of them, the Blood Dike groaned, its patched hulls weeping saltwater and secrets.
Ozias stared at the flames, static dancing in his horns. Somewhere in that inferno, Law's smirk waited. Another ghost. Another debt.