Chapter 114 - My SI Stash #14 - I Am Mr Five by Sir Lucifer Morningstar (One Piece)

-The only SI One Piece fic I know that has the MC VS Straw Hats instead of canon rehash +1.

*SI as Mr Five but with damn absurd potential~

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Sypnosis: In one world, a villain whose powers should have made him a renowned world terrorist fades into obscurity after suffering defeat by the Straw Hats. In this world, someone else takes the reins earlier and brings about an age of pirates that has absolutely nothing to do with adventure and nakamaship. "****. Pillage. Burn. T'is a pirate's life for me, savvy?" SI-OC as Mr. Five.

Rated: M

Words: 30K

Posted on: fanfiction.net/s/13174853/1/I-Am-Mr-Five (Sir Lucifer Morningstar)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (*´ー｀*)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1+2 (exceptional)

"I can create explosions from any part of my body…"

"Yes, we've gone over this Mr. 5." A woman said, irritation and exasperation thick in her voice.

"And I'm immune to all forms of explosions." I continued, ignoring her exasperation.

"Yes." She said, gritting her teeth, before shaking her head. "You're also an elite bounty hunter working for Baroque Works, and you've never failed a mission before. Now – we have a mission from Mr. 0 – and I don't want to be the one to explain that we failed our mission because you somehow lost your memory by hitting your head on the mast and falling into the ocean."

I frowned, rubbing the side of my head with my middle and index fingers slowly. The swaying back and forth of the ship was doing very little to help my growing nausea and confusion, nor were the cold, harsh night winds. The woman in front of me helped though, to an extent. With bright short blonde hair and bright green eyes, wearing a yellow and orange hat, as well as a short yellow dress with lemon-like patterns, lemon earrings and white high-heeled shoes – I stared at her for a long time, trying to find a way not to be confused, as well as to find something to say that wasn't 'damn you're hot. Wanna f.u.c.k?'

"And you are…?"

"Miss Valentine. Your partner."

I blinked. "Whoa. Sweet. How did I bang a hottie like you?"

"Not like that!" She yelled, "Your business partner. Your work partner. Strictly."

"Uh-huh." I nodded. "And what work is it that we do again?"

She gave a 'sweet' smile that wasn't fooling me for a second. "We work for Baroque Works, which is, at the surface, a legitimate business. We're bounty hunters – meaning, we kill pirates and turn in their bounties."

"Whoa whoa whoa –" I stopped her, waving my hands "We kill people?"

Her smile seemed to strain. "Yes –"

"And we can do this legally? I mean – we won't go to jail and shit for killing people –"

"Jail? What? No – we kill them and turn in their bounties for beli. Why would we go to jail? The people we kill are declared criminals."

"Beli?" I asked, frowning, "Isn't that the currency of –"

Wait… Beli… Beli – Mr. Five, Miss Valentine, and did she say –

"Did you say, Baroque Works?"

Miss Valentine looked at me, seemingly satisfied with the recognition in my voice. "Yes. Is it finally coming back to you?"

Baroque Works – Beli – Miss Valentine and Mr. 5 – didn't it sound like –

"My powers… did I get them from eating a… a Devil Fruit?"

"How else would you have gotten them?"

Devil Fruits. Shit. It confirmed what I was thinking – and that wasn't a good thing in the slightest. Devil Fruits meant One Piece – the grand pirate adventure and all that f.u.c.k. I hadn't watched or read One Piece in years – and the last thing I remembered about the series was them fighting some guy called Caesar or something…

But, wait – how the f.u.c.k did I even get here? I was – I was –

Oh. Yeah. I was on a yacht. During a storm. And I fell into the water.

Shit… did I die?

How'd I end up in this guy's body then? Mr. Five?

"You better get it together, we'll soon be arriving at Whiskey Peak." Miss Valentine said, "And failing this mission is not an option."

Whiskey Peak – Whiskey Peak – damn, I couldn't remember. One Piece was such a damn large world with so many characters and locations and events that I could barely remember half of them. I wasn't a major hardcore fan of the series, I didn't know much about it's lore or history or shit – and I only remembered few important moments. Like Ace dying – Whitebeard dying – oh and Enel, cause the guy was modelled after Eminem. I didn't even remember why Ace died –

But… I did remember Crocodile… and the… Eleabast Arc? Realbastard Arc? Arabeaster Arc? Whatever. I remembered Luffy getting his ass handed to him by Croc at least three times. Why were they even fighting? Some typical villain shit – but I knew that Vivi had something to do with it –

"Vivi…" I muttered.

"So you do remember our mission." Miss Valentine sounded pleased. She reached into her bag, bringing out two photographs. "The boss said, 'someone knows his secret' and we figured out it's these two – Mr. 8 and Miss Wednesday – they are Igaram and Princess Nefeltari Vivi of the Alabasta Kingdom."

It was coming back to me, slowly. I rose to my feet, swaying slightly on the ship and placing my hand on my head.

"Well, do you remember now?" she said, tapping her foot impatiently.

I wagered my options quickly. The first was to tell her that I didn't remember, not really, and that I was actually a guy who came from earth and had no f.u.c.k.i.n.g clue how I entered this mook's body. Except, that wouldn't end well in the f.u.c.k.i.n.g slightest for me – and I didn't like her tone all that much. God knows what she'd do if I said that.

The second option, was to bullshit my way through it all, and hope I remembered the important stuff quickly enough so I wouldn't get killed. I couldn't go telling people where I was from without looking like a f.u.c.k.i.n.g maniac… and I had no bloody clue how I would even get back. Maybe that scientist guy who was popular and made those bear robots could help me? What was his name again? Dr. New Vegas I think –

Gah, why would he even want to help me? He'd be better off dissecting me like some lab rat or trying to prod ideas about how to build nukes from my brain…

"Well?"

Shit – I was stalling and she was looking mighty pissed. How was I supposed to act again? Mr. 5… he was one of those silent-but-deadly mook types wasn't he? So… talk as though I'm a cold professional assassin – like Kiritsugu or Agent 47 – right? So…

"Watch your tone, Valentine." I said. "I remember enough to know that I could as much as touch you and leave you missing a limb. Don't test me."

Damn even I felt that was cold. Miss Valentine flinched back in shock, suddenly looking at me far more warily than before. Her eyes tried their best to avoid mine, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief.

I talked big but I had no bloody clue how to even use my powers. Shit. Shit. Shit. I'd be f.u.c.k.i.e.d when it came to actual fighting – or to battle.

Come on brain, remember – remember – how the hell did this guy use his devil fruit powers? The only thing that came to mind was digging my nose for boogers and then flicking it – but there was no way that was right. My mind was f.u.c.k.i.n.g with me if it expected me to believe that's how a guy who could make his body explode used his powers.

"How long till we reach Whiskey Peak?" I asked, doing my best to put an emotionless quality to my voice.

Remember… like an assassin, like a hitman –

"Twenty-five minutes." Miss Valentine said, sounding slightly more demure than before.

I nodded. Like an assassin. Be a cool-headed, silent hitman. "Miss Wednesday and Mr 8 are the targets. We waste no time bantering with them. We waste no time entertaining them. We do not even inform them of the fact that they are our targets. We engage them, we eliminate them, and we leave. Is that clear?"

The blonde woman bristled. "In case you've forgotten we're partners, and I'm not your lackey – I don't take orders from you."

Ahh… shit what to do? I'm a bad guy right? What would a bad guy do in this situation?

I spun around, grabbing the woman by the neck – damn she was light – and I held her in the air, feeling my hand squeeze slowly and tightly against her throat. It felt almost effortless, actually, it was effortless, I never remembered being this strong before, being this… powerful.

"That was the old me," I said. "The new me has little patience, and a slowly developing urge to no longer require a partner."

Was I going overboard? Was this too much? I didn't know – I wasn't sure – all I knew was that I was f.u.c.k.i.e.d in this situation one way or another. This world, the One Piece world – it was a f.u.c.k.i.n.g crazy place – the only way to survive was if you were strong. I couldn't afford to be a pansy – I couldn't afford to be seen as weak, I couldn't afford to be weak –

Er – wait – was she growing heavier? I snapped my attention to the woman held in my hand, and I realized it wasn't my imagination, she was getting heavier – damn – it felt like I was holding a massive set of dumbbells – what the f.u.c.k –

I felt my arm straining to keep her in the air. Nope – nope – nope – no f.u.c.k.i.n.g way, heavy – she was f.u.c.k.i.n.g heavy –

I let her go, watching as she dropped to the deck of the ship, the impact leaving a large enough dent in the wood for her right leg to go through. She coughed and hacked, taking in deep breaths of air as her right hand slowly rubbed her throat, her throat which now had a clear visible bruise in the shape of my hand.

I almost winced at the sight – shit – had I overdone it?

Did I really have to be a bad guy? I mean, sure, I was in the body of one of the bad guys, but did that mean I had to be one? But – who were the good guys in this world anyway? The pirates? Luffy's crew?

I didn't want to join Luffy's crew. Luffy would irritate the f.u.c.k out of me with his stupidity and his tendency to never grow. Nami's money-grubbing antics and loud voice would get on my nerves pretty quick, and I only liked her because she was hot. Sanji would piss me off to no end – Usopp was just laughable – and I didn't know what to think about Franky. The only ones there I'd chill with would be Zoro, Robin and Brook – but Zoro was absolutely loyal to Luffy, so that was out. Robin was all too mysterious and wayyy to perceptive, so she'd see through me and any secrets I had with ease. Brook was cool because he was a singing skeleton. Nuff' said.

Then there was Chopper… cute… but too naïve to understand dark humour or s.e.x.u.a.l jokes. He'd be a horrible drinking buddy.

F.u.c.k. I wouldn't fit in with the Straw Hats at all. And the Straw Hats were the major 'good guys' of the world. Who else was left? Who else could I join? I didn't know – I didn't remember.

Shit. Shit. Shit. The more I thought this over, the more my stomach filled with dread. I'm gonna die again. That was the thought in my head. I'm gonna die – I'm gonna die – I'm gonna die –

I didn't know how to sail or navigate for shit.

I had no clue about basic survival needs when sailing the oceans.

I knew jack shit about the geography of this world.

And, I was a bounty hunter belonging to a criminal organization… meaning I'd most likely killed a shit ton of people, and would be required to keep killing people if I didn't want to be "terminated."

I'd have laughed if it wasn't so f.u.c.k.i.n.g terrifying. The odds of me surviving the One Piece world on my own were so f.u.c.k.i.n.g low, it wasn't funny.

Oi idiot – you just threatened to kill the one person who might have actually helped you out.

And that thought came to me with a large grimace.

F.u.c.k. What the f.u.c.k.i.n.g hell am I doing?

Miss Valentine was still rubbing her throat, and I was still standing around like a jackass. I realized my hands were shaking – they were shaking and shivering like I'd come down with the worst cold of the century. Worst of all, Miss Valentine saw it – she saw how bad they were shaking. No – not just my hands – my legs as well.

"Y-you're... scared?"

"Shut up!" I snapped, gritting my teeth as I tried to get my legs and hands to stop shaking.

Stop shaking damn it!

Stop f.u.c.k.i.n.g shaking damn it!

I could tell that my breathing was getting louder, harsher, and I grit my teeth as I tried to stop it. My palms felt freezing cold, and a small line of sweat appeared on my brow. I moved my hand across it, wiping it –

"Wait! NO!"

She shouted, slapping my hand upwards –

BOOM!

I winced slightly from the sound, but other than that – the heat, the pressure and the shockwave passed over my skin like a layer of warm water. I stared at the portion of the ship's mast that had been blown clean off – the sheer size of the explosion making my eyes widen in disbelief.

I… did that?

There wasn't even any debris from the explosion. No chunks of burning wood falling from the sky – just bits and pieces of ash that were blown away by the wind. How powerful did the blasts have to be for something like that…?

"What part of you can create explosions from any part of your body didn't you understand?!"

I blinked. "Any part? Even liquids?'

"Even that!"

A thought came to me. "Wait, so if I ejaculate into a woman –"

Miss Valentine's face turned red. "I don't know! Why would you ask something like that?"

"Hey, it's an important question. I want to know if I give a whole new meaning to the term 'explosive s.e.x.'"

Her face went even redder. "You – I can't believe it. You don't remember at all do you? You don't remember anything!" She grit her teeth, veins bulging. "You don't even act like Mr. Five - because he'd never have asked such a stupid question, and he'd have known better than to try and wipe his sweat like that!"

I sighed, realizing that my hands and legs weren't shaking as bad as before. "Alright – you caught me. I don't remember – I don't remember my name, I don't remember being a Baroque Works Agent, I don't remember a lot of things – I just remember a few here and there." I turned to her, grimacing at her neck.

"I'm… sorry about that. I was trying to – well – shit, I don't even really know what I was trying to do. I guess I just didn't want you to underestimate me or something – you're an elite agent and bounty hunter – you didn't sign up to babysit an amnesiac. So I wanted to try and… you know…"

"Act like a douchebag?"

I nodded. "Not the words I'd use… but yeah."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm your partner. I'm not just going to turn around and slit your throat while you sleep just because you lost your memory… no matter how convenient it may be."

"Wow. That's… probably the nicest thing I've heard in the brief while that I've had memories."

"Also because it'd get out that I killed my partner and I won't have any partners anymore, because people will think I'm a turncoat – which will lead to someone coming for my head."

"And suddenly, not so nice anymore." I said dryly, rolling my eyes at the woman's 'smile.'

"Also, if we fail this mission, our superiors will probably kill us either way, because they won't care if you lost your memories, or if you lost your arm." Her smile continued, and it was slowly getting creepy.

"What type of shitty organization kills its members just because they fail a mission?"

"Baroque Works." She replied succinctly. "Also, this is an important mission. Mr. 0's identity is at stake – we can't afford to fail… because I like living."

"I can't argue with that. I like you living too."

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Er… shit. What I meant to say was – you know, with you, being alive – and me… it'd be great and all – and er – you know you're… and I'm…"

What the hell was I saying?

I palmed my face.

"….F.u.c.k it. I think you're hot and I'd like to bang you. Multiple times, if possible."

She stared at me.

"I'm not hearing a no…?"

"Okay."

Wait… wha?

"Wait… for real?"

"If –" she interrupted, still smiling "You somehow manage to get it together, and be the Officer Agent I need you to be, completing our mission by killing the spies, and not getting us killed."

This woman clearly underestimated the power of a guy who wanted to get laid.

"Deal." I said immediately. "You can most certainly count on me."

She rubbed her nose in irritation, before sighing. "Something tells me I'm going to regret this."

Xx I am Mr. Five xX

Whiskey Peak

Despite the damage done to the mast of our ship, we were still able to arrive at Whiskey Peak in relatively safe condition. Miss Valentine made some comments about how the sh.i.p.s were generally built to withstand such damage, in the advent of an enemy attack and what not, it would be able to sail for a long while until it arrived at a place where repairs could be done. I could understand that, considering more than 70% of this world was filled with water, and naval voyages were the only way a person could get from Point A to Point B. It'd make sense for their sh.i.p.s to be built of stronger stuff than what I knew of back home on earth.

What was this planet even called anyway? I'd have to find out.

Though, as it was, I was remembering more and more stuff the more I looked at sceneries, and the more some stuff was mentioned. I remembered about Seastone when she brought up the topic of sh.i.p.s, and I think marine vessels used the stuff at the bottom of their sh.i.p.s when passing the Calm Seas – I think that was what it was called. Seas filled with monsters that were humungous, and seas that had no wind.

The more I remembered, the more it helped, as we made our way from the docks over to the center of the town – we could hear the sounds of what sounded like battle going on.

"Whiskey Peak…" a thought occurred to me, and I snapped my attention to Miss Valentine "…isn't this the place filled with people who celebrate pirates when they arrive, then wait till they're drunk and asleep before killing or capturing them for their bounties?"

"You remember." She nodded. "It's a front for the billions – the lower ranked members of Baroque Works."

…Shit.

Didn't that mean – weren't Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine introduced when…

When the Straw Hat crew was here?

F.u.c.k.

I didn't have any delusions in my mind about taking down the Straw Hats on my own. Nami and Usopp would be no problem, I think, but Luffy, Zoro and even Sanji – those guys were out of my league.

Worse, assuming I was stronger than them, I still couldn't killany of them.

Killing Luffy would be a death sentence. If Garp didn't come charging for me, Shanks would. If Shanks didn't, then Ace would. If Ace didn't, then Dragon would. Someone would come for my head if it got out that I killed Luffy. Someone who would kill me – no ifs, buts, or maybes.

Killing any of Luffy's 'Nakama' would essentially be the same thing. Luffy would hunt me down for the rest of my living days, for as long as I was alive. He would never rest – he would never give up.

Then, there was Vivi. Wasn't she important to the plot? She became a temporary member of the Straw Hats… didn't she? They did the whole 'save the princess' thing didn't they? What'd happen if I killed her here? Did that mean… Crocodile won? Crocodile gained complete control over her country?

Why did I care?

So what if Vivi died and Croc won… why should it matter to me? If anything, I'd be a high-ranking member in Croc's new world. That is, assuming he didn't decide to go super-evil villain and kill off every Baroque Works member in order to keep his secret…

Who was I kidding? That was exactly what Crocodile would do. Once he was done with us – he'd discard us or eliminate us to tie up loose ends.

F.u.c.k.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

The problem was – there needed to be a catalyst for Luffy and crew to help Vivi and stop Crocodile, that catalyst was my arrival, me and Miss Valentine, being Officer Agents too strong to handle – Igaram would beg Zoro to protect Vivi, and Nami would overhear that Vivi was a princess, and ask for a billion beli in order to aid her…

How do I remember all this?

The more I thought about the situation, the more I realized that I remembered the events with far sharper clarity than I should – it was an episode I watched more than eight to ten years ago – yet, I still remembered the procession of events as though it happened yesterday –

"Mr. 5, look alive."

I resisted the urge to jerk up at the sound of my title, instead, I turned my gaze down the road. There, I spotted an otter and a vulture – sitting on a sign post, opposite them, there seemed to be members of the billions, fleeing.

"T-the Unluckies!"

"W-we weren't running away! We – we were just –"

"P-please don't report us to the boss!"

Miss Valentine turned to me, irritation in her voice. "Pathetic. So much for the Billions – running away from a bunch of measly pirates. We should take care of them."

Somehow, when she said 'we' I had a feeling she meant 'me.'

"Well?" She said, "Are you going to be the Agent I need you to be, or…?"

The or went unsaid – and a part of me that had self-respect and pride was about to tell her to f.u.c.k off if she thought she could bait me around with the promise of s.e.x – of course, that part of me also remembered how long it's been since I'd been laid, and realized that one way or another, Miss Valentine was my best shot at surviving this world.

Alright… enabling Douchebag mode.

The sunglasses wearing otter and vulture (which was far more surreal than it sounded) leaped into the air, seemingly ready to tear a new one to the fleeing members of Baroque works, before I took a deep breath.

"Wait."

My voice carried out across to them. The duo stopped their attack cold, and I stalked forward, doing my best to act as natural and as intimidating as possible. Thankfully, there were a pair of shades in my pocket, and with them on, I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing my eyes and fully reading my expression.

Drama Class Electives – don't fail me now.

"To think that there are such cowards in Baroque Works…" I muttered, putting as much focus as I could on making it sound as irritated as possible.

"M-M-Mr. 5?"

The only long range attack that I could remember this guy having was flicking his booger. It was a disgusting tactic, but it was one which worked, considering the speed and effectiveness of the explosion. Yet, it was something I did not feel too comfortable using… instead…

Please don't fail, please don't fail, please don't fail – I REALLY don't want to look like an idiot here –

"Wastes of space such as yourself," My palms were sweaty, and I closed my eyes and focused on that sweat "Should simply just vanish."

Ignite!

BOOM!

I was immune to explosions, which, I realized easily enough. However, I was not immune to the sheer kinetic force generated by them. In the same way that Luffy, using his rubber arms, could slingshot himself –

I could propel myself forward using my explosions.

The burst of speed was fast, too too fast – slow down slow down slow down –

I ended up barreling past the Unluckies and straight into one of the three men that had been attempting to flee, and I brought up my right foot in an attempt to stop myself –

BOOM!

Blood. Blood and guts and gore.

It took every last ounce of my willpower not to throw up from the sight of what was left of the man I kicked by accident. What was left of the other two in the surrounding area. The blood didn't even splatter on me – all of it escaped in an arc outward from the point of impact, my foot to the man's stomach.

There was a crater in the ground surrounding the impact point, and more than that, the other two men had been caught in it. They weren't completely blown up – but – but –

The human neck was not meant to bend 360 degrees. Nor were the arms designed to snap backwards –

They were covered with massive third-degree burns, and the entire area was filled with the thick, nauseating smell of burnt flesh and meat.

I was still standing, my right foot extended outward, even as the dust and smoke began to clear. Slowly, I put my foot down, and I put my hands in my pockets, playing it off as though my massacre of the three men had been intentional. I resisted the bile slowly rising in my throat from the smell of burnt flesh that would forever be stuck in my mind. The smell clung to my outfit in a way I wanted to wash off. I wanted to wash it off badly.

Instead, I turned around, gazing at the Unluckies, who seemed to be shell-shocked, unable to move, their eyes bulging and their mouths hung low.

"Tell Mr. 0 – the situation will be handled."

They couldn't argue, they couldn't say anything – instead, the otter got on the back of the vulture and they flew away from the scene of the massacre as quickly as they could. I watched them leave, and a part of me told me it would be wiser for me to take them down now – but I didn't trust my body to move. I didn't trust my hands not to shake or quaver.

Instead, I walked back to Miss Valentine. My hands in my pockets, my mind replaying the kick slowly, over and over again with unbelievable clarity – the force of the explosion –

"Was that Officer Agent enough for you?" I asked, calmly. She didn't respond. She tried to pretend as though it didn't bother her, but it was clear on her face – it did. Still, she nodded.

"T-that… was good enough."

I resisted the urge to snort. I resisted the urge to say something sarcastic, something like, I just massacred three men so I can get in your pants. Hope that really turns you on. Except, I knew the blame wasn't necessarily hers – it was mine. I didn't have to do it – but I did.

Somehow, I thought they wouldn't die. Thought that they'd be immune. I mean – this was the One Piece world filled with all sorts of monsters – surely, explosions created by devil fruits would not be that powerful? And… in canon, in the anime and manga – no one had actually ever died from an explosion… had they? People were hit by explosions all the time and they shrugged it off… didn't they?

The problem was, I wasn't in an anime, or in a manga. Here, there was no board of censors preventing deadly explosions from causing massive amounts of gore.

What was I thinking? My power was to create explosions. Explosions – you know, the thing that a certain group of humans used when screaming 'Allah Akbar' and performing grand acts of terrorism. The things that could cause massive amounts of damage in a battlefield, massive amount of casualties to people participating in said battlefield – the thing that had once been dropped over two cities and led to the deaths of hundreds and thousands of lives –

Can I create nuclear level explosions?

The thought was terrifying. The sheer level of power I would wield –

How was it, that the moron using this power had never tested the limits? How was he not on the level of the Shichibukai or Yonko? He could create explosions on any part of his body, and he was immune to them – he was the ultimate wet dream of every Suicide Bomber.

I could Suicide Bomb people without dying or feeling the repercussions. Over and over and over…

"Heh… heh heh… heheheheheheheheh."

"Mr… Five?" Miss Valentine called out my name with clear concern on her face.

I paid no heed to her, and rose my hands up, now basking in their sweatiness and the realization that my body was the equivalent of a nitroglycerin, dynamite, C4 and TNT factory. But at the same time, it was much, much more.

Explosions were more than just heat and fire. There was also pressure. Shockwaves. The center of an explosion detonated shockwaves of air which rushed out and dealt damage to objects even before the heat and flames did. It was why explosions could shatter glass from far away, even though the actual 'explosion' did not touch the glass in question.

Shockwaves, with enough force, could rupture organs and shatter bones. Unless you were a logia-wielder, you would be dealt massive amounts of internal damage from shockwaves and pressure.

Which meant…

"Miss Valentine," I spoke up, "Let's complete our mission."

Chapter 2

She had gotten accustomed to killing.

"Miss Valentine," the sound of his voice sent a shudder down her spine. "Let's complete our mission."

She didn't trust her voice to not waver, and hence, she allowed her head speak for her. A swift bob, twice, as her heart beat faster and she did what she could to make sure her face didn't show any discomfort.

She had gotten accustomed to killing, but not to… to… butchering.

She wanted to throw up. To vomit badly at the sight and the smell of the carnage that lay before her. She could still see the entrails and blackened small intestines of one of the men, lounging around the floor next to a partially-charred eyeball and a splatter of steaming grey-matter –

She swallowed the bile building up in her throat as hard as she could. She couldn't afford to show weakness. Not here. Not now. Mr. 5 didn't have his memories, he didn't even remember that they were partners with a flawless mission record, didn't remember who he was or what his ability did, didn't remember that he usually never used explosions of such sheer caliber before –

Or, rather, was it that he couldn't?

She didn't know. All she knew, was that she'd never seen him utilize his Devil Fruit in that manner before. Usually, she was the one propelled into the air, riding on the updraft of his explosions, but she'd never seen him shoot himself forward with explosions before. She didn't even know he could –

More terrifying than his power, was his reaction. She'd seen it, the momentary second where he contemplated what he'd done, and rather than grief or rage or fear at his own power, something else flickered in his expression.

Glee.

He was pleased with himself. His lips had upturned into a brilliant smirk, and his teeth showed for just a fraction of a second, and if she had not known better, she would have claimed that he was about to let out a maniacal laugh of satisfaction.

And then he did.

He'd laughed.

Chuckled.

A thick, lax, spew of amused contentment.

She'd shuddered at the laugh, giving him momentary glances of worry.

She knew that type of laugh.

It was the laughter of a certain type of person on the Grand Line. A type of man whose name was often spoken of in dread or utter and absolute fear. That kind of laugh.

She was terrified.

Miss Valentine would admit it easily that that she was absolutely terrified of this new Mr. 5.

"Miss Valentine."

She resisted the urge to straighten up and respond with a 'yes sir?' by biting down on her lip before the instinct overwhelmed her.

"What is it?"

Under the moonlight, the jacketed, sunglasses-wearing dark-skinned explosion man turned to give her a glance. Her heart beat faster. She couldn't tell what he was thinking with those glasses on and with his expression so neutral. His hands were in the pockets of his Mr. 5 jacket, and it was at that moment she realized that she'd subconsciously been following behind him, rather than beside him.

Her mind had unknowingly changed the status quo. They weren't equals. How could they be? Not with that sheer destructive power at his fingertips. No – he was superior to her, and if he wanted to kill her, all he'd need to do was touch her.

"You're quiet."

Was she? Damn it –

"We're on a mission."

He stared at her for even longer, and she could feel her heart beating even faster than before. Was she going to have to use her Kilo-Kilo no Mi to escape?

"I'm not going to kill you."

She recoiled at the comment, cursing herself for the action. "Don't think so highly of yourself. I'm not scared of you, Mr. 5."

"Oh, really?"

Boom!

He was in front of her, directly in front of her, in a single moment. Her eyes went wide as she realized she never saw him move. If it wasn't for the sound of the explosion and the shockwave it made, she'd never have noticed that he'd moved.

His right hand lay shamelessly over her left b.r.e.a.s.t, her heart, and her motion stilled as she didn't dare to so much as breathe. She realized, that her legs were shaking, quivering, and despite the relatively cool night, sweat ran down her spine and collected over her brow.

"Boom."

KA – BOOM!

XXXXXX

The moment I knew my prank had gone too far was the moment Miss Valentine dropped to the floor, shaking like a leaf, and wheezing as though she'd ran a marathon.

I hadn't actually exploded her heart – but I'd exploded my feet and made it seem like I was going to explode her heart. I mean, I wouldn't kill her for no reason after all.

But she didn't know that.

The sight of the wheezing, sharply breathing, terrified woman who was supposed to be my partner made me wince a bit at that realization.

Ah… oops?

What I'd done was essentially the same as playing an unwilling game of Russian Roulette. I was a gun, propped up against her skull, but with unknown odds about whether or not the gun was loaded.

She probably fully expected herself to die in that moment. Enough so that once her brain caught up with the realization that the explosion had not harmed her, her body was already in shock.

Shit… what exactly do I do now?

Should I play up the good guy angle? Apologize? Tell her it was just a joke?

Threatening to blow up your heart was just a prank bro! Calm down bro! It's just a joke!

…That probably wouldn't end well. I'd be like one of those sc.u.mmy pranksters who did shitty stuff under the excuses of 'pranking.' Not to mention it'd make me look a bit unstable if that was my idea of a joke.

Well it was, but… you know.

Should I play up the bad guy angle instead? Mouth off something? Brag? Piss on her to show dominance?

… Ignoring that stupid last stray thought, I still wasn't seeing how it would help. As it stood, there was no way we could go back to being "partners." The power dynamic was heavily skewed in my favor. I couldn't see her as someone who was my equal, just as she would never be able to see the guy who brought her to her knees with threats as her equal. Essentially the same as school-yard politics where the nerd who got the shit beat out of him by his bully would fantasize about beating up his bully and gaining the upper hand, but in reality, would always know where he was on the pecking order.

And I'd actually wanted us to be partners really. But… it couldn't work. The gap in knowledge and power was too wide for us to have been considered partners.

Ah, well.

A Secretary was fine too.

XXXXXX

She could still hear the sound of blood rushing tremendously in her ears. Her body was frozen. Despite her best efforts to move, and despite the complete and utter indignation from the realization that she'd been scared enough to almost wet herself, she couldn't bring it in her to so much as move.

I – I'm a-a-alive?

She could have sworn she felt a blinding pain in her chest when that explosion went off. Or was it her mind playing tricks on her? Her gaze managed to flicker down a bit, and noticed that her chest was perfectly unharmed. So no, she hadn't died. She wasn't even injured.

"So. Yeah. You're definitely scared of me." Mr. 5 rubbed his hand through his hair. "That's funny. The first friend I make and she's terrified that I'm going to blow her to chunky steaming pieces of flesh."

She didn't trust herself to speak. Still, she forced her lips to ask. "A-aren't you?"

"Well no," he responded dryly. "We haven't had s.e.x yet."

The ridiculous statement was jarring enough to obliterate most of her fear. "W-w-what?"

"I said –"

"I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID!" she yelled. "I can't believe you were actually serious –"

"Wait, weren't you?"

"NO!"

Reward him with s.e.x for doing his job? Did he think she was some kind of cheap hooker? He'd actually thought that she'd –

"Not even a blowjob?"

Heat filled up her cheeks. "NO!"

He frowned a bit. "Okay, what if I'm the one giving you a –"

She almost tore out her hair in frustration. "I can't believe this is what you've become! We're not, never having any kind of s.e.x.u.a.l relationship! We are work partners, strictly!"

"Then I suppose I don't have any need for you."

And like that, her breath hitched, and her fear returned.

"W-wait – you can't, we're partners –"

"How do you use your powers in a fight?"

The non-sequitur threw her off.

"What bits of memory I have tell me that you ride on the coattails and wind provided by my explosions, go up into the air, and then turn heavy and crash down on enemies. Is that right?"

She nodded rapidly. "Y-ye –"

"And how exactly do I benefit in combat from your powers?"

She opened her mouth to say something, racking her brain to think of something sharply. Something other than, 'you don't.'

"That's not partnership. That's parasitism. One person leeching off the other with no benefits granted. I don't need you by my side, but you need me to be even half as effective."

His palm slowly out stretched until two of his gloved fingers grasped softly against her skull.

"So, combat wise, you're useless to me. What other uses do you have? Information and navigation would be one, to help fill in the gaps in my memory. But – I don't necessarily need you for that. The Millions are here, and I'm an Officer Agent. I could simply ask for the best navigators on this island and assemble a halfway competent crew in less than an hour."

He could. He could, and they would listen. Well, they would listen because they feared and respected him, because he was Mr. 5, and his power and authority wasn't to be questioned.

Dread began to fill up her stomach as she contemplated how it was possible that she never once entertained the possibility that she could be discarded so easily. Honestly, even before Mr. 5 lost his memory and suddenly gained perspective on things, she was not actually bringing much to the table. They'd never failed a mission till date, but there was no denying that it was him who did the brunt of the heavy work. Falling on people could only be useful if they were too damaged to move. If they were healthy, they could effortlessly dodge her attacks again and again and again. Mr. 5 was the one who rendered them immobile with his explosions, and she delivered the finishing touches.

That… that brought up his point. If he was the one doing most of the work, and she shared in the credit with him… could it really have been called a partnership?

"You're not my partner. You're my lackey."

Mr. 5 had always been hot-tempered. There was rumor amongst devil fruit wielders that the devil fruit ability you gained tended to affect your personality and temperament, but it was never proven as anything more than an old wives' tale. She had always considered Mr. 5 as proof that the tale had some truth to it, although, his temper was never directed straight at her. He'd treated her with some sort of respect and professionalism, albeit limited, and she'd followed him because she liked the amicable feeling he had.

But this – this man in front of her, with all five of his fingers pressing against her temple in a thinly veiled threat to explode her skull – he didn't have any of that same sentiment. His eyes were obscured behind his shades, but there was a ruthless, almost absolutely potent air about him. An air that reeked of a form of self-assuredness and confidence she didn't believe he'd possessed. He'd gone from shaking in fear and confusion on their boat… to this?

Is this what power does to a man?

"Do you understand what this means, Miss Valentine?"

She couldn't even fight back against him. Hitting him was a suicide move. Trying to struggle could set him off accidentally and she'd end up killing herself in vain. A more idealistic, foolish person would have claimed that attempt to fight back and die fighting was worth it – but, she wasn't such a person. She liked living. She liked the easy life. Being paid a decent salary and given respect all for being a member of some organization. She wasn't about to throw it all away in some misguided notion of pride.

"Y-yes."

"Good."

The pressure against her skull eased itself, and Mr. 5 casually patted her on the cheeks like she was a pet.

"Be a good little secretary, and you'll live and be the happiest woman in the world."

Then, he turned around and continued walking as though he had not just completely and utterly shattered whatever self-worth she had.

XXXXXXX

Not exactly how I'd have liked things to go, but I didn't have charisma for shit, and I could only rely on the basics of drama class and acting that I'd remembered from my time in college.

As much as I liked Miss Valentine, there was still no denying the fact that she was canonically rather very, very useless. The more I remembered about the situation, the more I felt that relegating her to lackey role wasn't a bad decision.

She was ultimately beaten by Vivi and Nami.

Vivi and Nami.

Someone with a Devil Fruit was beaten by a princess and a thief who both had little combat experience.

If she lost to them of all people, there was no way in the world she could survive on the Grand Line on her own. Hell, how in the world would she survive in East Blue? Someone like Don Krieg or Arlong or Kuro would turn her into mincemeat and force her to become a serviceable minion. Any halfway competent pirate crew on the Grand Line could beat her, and this was the Paradise part of the Grand Line. In the New World?

HAH.

She'd be dead in seconds.

…I probably would have felt the same way about myself, but there was no denying the fact that I felt drunk on power right now. Every muscle and every single fiber of my being sung with potential for explosions of catastrophic capabilities. I wanted to know what the max kiloton yield I could put out was. Hell, I wanted to know what the max megaton yield I could put out was. Could I nuke an entire city with a full body explosion? An entire island? An entire country?

More interestingly, where did my ability as a "Bomb-Human" end? Could I add effects to my explosions? Could I make Ice Bombs or different types of 'bombs' that possessed varying effects?

There was so much to do, so much to experiment with.

Of course, there was also the problem of deciding what to do about… canon.

We'd almost reached the center stage where the Millions had fought against Zoro and lost horribly, and I was slightly conflicted about what to do in this situation. If I let everything play out exactly like it had in canon, that would mean letting myself get my ass kicked after standing around blabbing my intentions like a third-rate mook. None of which were things that I found even remotely interesting to do.

Option B was to try and steer things in a similar vein to canon. Ensure Vivi followed the Straw Hat Pirates, ensure they got to Little Garden, ensure Nami gets sick and goes to Drum Island to recruit Chopper, ensure they fight Crocodile and have Nico Robin join their crew.

Except, I didn't want to do that. That was… stressful, boring, trying to do my best to make sure things worked out exactly as they had before? Why? What did I have to gain except to 'retain' knowledge of the future? Why would I even waste so much effort trying to get these people to meet and making things remain as they had?

Nope. No way.

The name of the show was One Piece, not Luffy and Friends' Glorious Adventures.

If my interference changed events… so f.u.c.k.i.n.g be it.

So, what exactly am I going to do?

As of now, Mr. 5 was a relative nobody. I wasn't even sure if I had a bounty yet. I could choose to remain as a Bounty Hunter, get fame and money that way by hunting down notorious pirates. I could choose to join the Marines, probably work my way up to Vice-Admiral. Or, I could choose to go down the life of piracy.

Bounty Hunting would get me money, but it would mean constantly engaging in life-or-death duels with dangerous opponents just to earn a paycheck. Even worse, the higher the bounty, the more dangerous the opponent. I might be a bomb-man, but I wasn't a suicidal one.

Being a Marine would suck because I was not down for a militaristic lifestyle, nor did I entertain the thought of being a lackey at someone's beck-and-call.

As a Pirate, however, my major concerns would be fighting off Bounty Hunters and Marines… and other enemy Pirates. Benefits, of course, included the freedom to steal and pillage and ransack as much as I wanted and live as bullshittingly frivolous as possible. No one to tell me what to do, where to go, who to work for, or anything of the sort. I'd just… be doing whatever I wanted.

Like a bloody maniac.

The freedom of the sea…

Just the promise of freedom alone was enough to make me go for that option. It was something I'd had very little of in my life. Working a tireless 9-5 job as a lackey for the CEO of my company's spoilt brat of a son. Going back to a small apartment and scrounging myself something half decent to eat from the fridge or ordering takeout. Sitting down and streaming anime, reading manga or playing FPS and RPG Games through the night, before waking up the following morning to do it all over again.

I hadn't contacted my friends since we graduated college and went our separate ways. I had a few work acquaintances, but they wouldn't go into a depressed state if I suddenly went missing. I hadn't had a girlfriend since college, almost five f.u.c.k.i.n.g years ago, and hadn't gotten laid in over three… four years now?

To go from living the life of a cog-in-the-machine to suddenly finding myself in a world that emphasized freedom via the fast f.u.c.k.i.n.g ocean and legions of pirates…

It was too good to be true.

A part of me wanted to thank the bastard that was my boss for letting me follow him unto that yacht for his birthday celebration. If I'd never fallen into the ocean, I doubted I'd be here. Assuming, of course, here is real, and I hadn't somehow found myself in my own weird, twisted version of the afterlife.

If this was the afterlife, would this be considered hell, or heaven?

"Mr. 5."

I was drawn from my thoughts by Miss Valentine's voice, and it only now occurred to me that I was heading in a different direction from where I was supposed to go.

"Yes, Miss Valentine?"

"Our target is –"

"In that direction." I nodded. "I am aware."

"But we're –"

"Scouting." I said simply. I turned to face her, blonde hair and green eyes and all, and I was glad for my shades which obscured my eyes otherwise she'd have noticed my eyes trailing over her form. Her gown was a bit on the short side, but I wasn't complaining.

There were no 'nudity-standards' in this world. No oppressive religion shoving down rules of 'decency' and 'modesty' down people's throats, and very little cultural biases towards the showing of skin. I also wondered how s.e.xist or uns.e.xist this world was when it came to women's roles.

"Lift yourself into the air, high enough to scout over the town and tell me what you see."

She gave me an odd look, but didn't complain as she opened her umbrella – parasol? – and leapt into the air. I clapped my palms together, generating a small explosion of thick smoke and fire that echoed with the ring of a gunshot, and the winds sent Miss Valentine soaring higher and higher into the sky.

"… Does she know I can see her underwear from here?"

Probably not. I sighed. Really, the one attack and move you could think of to use with your Devil Fruit… and it flashes everyone who looks up at you. Maybe she didn't care? Did she? I mean, in a world filled with giant monsters, vicious pirates, a crazy, erratically-changing ocean, a corrupt Marine force, and 'Celestial Dragons' who supported and partook in institutionalized slavery, what was a little flashing of some underwear?

… Now that I thought about it, if I'd been born here or reincarnated here as a normal human being… then yes, this would be hell. Definitely hell. Christ, there were so many damned things here out to kill you, and the 'good guys' weren't actually the good guys, and more or less "morally-grey/ambiguous guys."

Miss Valentine landed back on the ground without so much as a sound and without remotely disturbing the earth. I took note of that. Her power was to either increase or decrease her weight at will, wasn't it?

"It's pathetic. The Millions are scattered around everywhere. Many of them are dead, others are bleeding out from sword wounds. 'Miss Wednesday' and 'Mr. 8' are down as well."

So, it was the moment then. This was the moment Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine were supposed to make their debut.

"I also noticed…" Miss Valentine continued. "The Swordsman is sitting on a roof, drinking, and there is a girl skulking around, hiding behind a wall."

Zoro and Nami. Yep.

I took in a deep breath.

Meet them, don't meet them, meet them, don't meet them –

Ah f.u.c.k it.

"Miss Valentine," I said simply. "We're going to make a nice entrance."

XXXXXX

The Swordsman was stronger than they expected.

Too strong.

What sort of monster could take on a hundred men on his lonesome without so much as to stop in hesitation? What sort of person could handle their best attacks and shrug them off without care?

She'd always known that the Grand Line was host to different varying types of monster wearing the thin veneer of men, but she had no idea that such things were capable. Throughout her entire operation instigating herself into the folds of Baroque Works, her journeys and missions had not crossed her against the path of such monsters.

Worse, there were probably monsters stronger than this swordsman in Baroque Works. None of the members knew anything truly about each other, but, she knew, the Officer Agents from rank number 5 and up were truly disastrous. Rumors about their abilities and strength were exaggerated enough that it was hard to tell which was true and which wasn't.

She however, did not expect, that they would be capable of something like… this.

He came from the sky. Dropping straight and center into the alleyway like a bird diving into water. His landing brought along with it a shockwave of air and pressure and an echoing boom that made her eardrums ring from the sound. The ground where he landed on was reduced to a small, smoldering crater, even as the tall, dark-skinned, sunglasses wearing man landed in a soft crouch, his knees bent, and his head bent low.

She noticed, there was a woman lying comfortably on his shoulders, as though she weighed very little, and it was only until the thick, echo of cracking bones rung out from his body that the woman shifted off, moving to his right side, and the man straightened, his visage a calm, stony one as his thick shades obscured his eyes.

Even with the glasses, she could tell that he was looking straight at her.

"M-Mr. 5! M-Miss Valentine!" she heard Mr. 9 exclaim in shock. She could not blame him. Officer Agents, here? In Whiskey Peak? In the Front Lines? It was unusual.

A slow dread filled up her stomach.

Do they know?

"T-the swordsman –"

"Shhh."

The cold, shushing voice of Mr. 5 cut off Mr. 9 effortlessly. Shivers ran down her spine as she took in the appearance of Mr. 5. His posture, his look, his air.

Dangerous.

Every single thing about him spoke of danger. Strength. Power.

Miss Valentine didn't give off that same vibe. No, if anything, the blonde woman was submerged in Mr. 5's intimidating aura. She seemed small, standing beside him, in more than just the physical sense. Her posture and stance did not speak of people who were equals and partners as per the rule of Officer Agents being assigned a female partner. No, she was a subordinate.

Mr. 5 hadn't spoken, he hadn't made any threatening moves or gestures, and he had done nothing other than shush Mr. 9, but she could feel sweat building up in her palms and her heartbeat getting faster. She noticed she wasn't the only one who was unnerved by the man's stoic expression and silence. After appearing from the sky in such a manner, only to stand and stare at them –

"Miss Wednesday."

She went ramrod stiff at hearing her codename being called out. "Y-y-yes? Mr. 5?"

"Mr. 8."

At hearing Igaram's codename, she knew that they'd been exposed.

"Y-y-yes?"

"Mr. 0 has a task for you both."

He knows. He knows –

Igaram's gaze turned to her, a look on his face that she knew. No, don't – you'll –

"W-what about the Swordsman, and the p-pirates?" he was trying to buy them time.

Mr. 5 tilted his head slowly. "I have no business with them."

"B-b-but, one of them has a Thirty Million Beli Bounty, and the s-swordsman –"

"Are you refusing a direct order? Mr. 8?"

Igaram wavered. "No – of course not, I'm only saying, he – he knows about Baroque Works, the swordsman, and secrecy is our –"

"Miss Valentine." Mr. 5 called out suddenly.

"Y-yes?"

"Kindly silence Mr. 8."

Silence?

She grit her teeth as she wondered how Miss Valentine would –

The woman began floating up into the air, only for her to stop when Mr. 5's hand outstretched and grabbed her ankle. Vivi noticed how Miss Valentine seemed to freeze and go white and the action.

"Not in your usual flashy manner." Mr. 5 said. "I said silence, not obliterate."

Vivi shuddered at that tone. Was she that powerful?

"A-ah, yes," Miss Valentine dropped to the ground. "I'll –"

"Ensure your hands aren't too heavy. I don't want him dying by mistake."

Her hands?

"M-my hands?"

"Yes. Just your hands." Mr. 5 said. "I know it's one of your weaker techniques, but we don't need to go all out on small fry."

The fact that Mr. 5 seemed to be the one giving all the orders didn't instill Vivi with any confidence. Even more so, she was less confident when Miss Valentine strode forward, moving in front of the prone Igaram –

"W-wait, I'm – GAH!"

She punched him.

Except, it didn't look so much as though he'd been punched, and more as though she struck him with a heavy iron club, straight to the side of his head.

"IGARAM!"

He was knocked unconscious in one blow.

Miss Valentine momentarily stared at her palms, as though seeing them for the first time, causing Vivi to wonder if the woman miscalculated how much power she'd used into the blow. The Princess of Alabaster desperately hoped the woman had used too much, rather than too little.

"How much was that?" Mr. 5 asked the woman.

"O-one thousand kilograms." She said, sounding breathless.

"Ah. So you held back. That's good."

That was holding back? Vivi grit her teeth as she forced herself to stand to her feet. She couldn't die here – and – and she couldn't leave Igaram here either –

"CARUE!" she called.

"SQUAAACK!"

In a blur, the animal appeared by her side, giving her enough time to climb onto it, as she stared down Mr. 5.

"He sent you didn't he?! He sent you to kill me, Mr. 0!"

Mr. 5 tilted his head. "Do you really have to ask such an obvious question?"

She grit her teeth at the response. "You – do you even –"

"Shhhhhh."

He shushed her.

"At this juncture, a lesser man would mock you. Insult your pride and purpose. Demean your existence. Gloat about his superiority. State the futility of your struggle." Mr. 5 said in a bland tone. "I'm not a lesser man."

Again, she shuddered. Heat, scorching heat seemed to emit from Mr. 5's form in such a manner that defied explanation.

"Attempt to run or attempt to fight, and you will die. That is all."

The words held so much conviction in them, that she believed it.

Mr. 5 was not like the rest of Baroque Works. He was a consummate professional. He wasn't here to joke, or to waste time, or to brag or gloat or do things which Vivi had long since associated with those who were deluded in their power. There was an eerie, unnatural conviction about him that evocated a sense of danger and authority.

Regardless of what it was about him that made him so dangerous, she knew that she would die if she remained here. She would die if she attempted to run. She would definitely die if she fought against him. Against such odds, the least she could do was try.

"Wait, I don't understand, Miss Wednesday, why are they trying to kill you? What is going on?!"

Mr. 9 spoke up, confusion adamant on his face. Vivi had almost forgotten about him, in lieu of Mr. 5's appearance.

"Miss Valentine. Kindly silence Mr. 9."

Mt. 9's eyes bulged. "W-wait! S-silence me? Why would you – "

Miss Valentine was upon him instantly, her ferocious right hand slamming against his cheek and echoing with the sound of breaking bones before he crumpled to the ground in a defeated heap.

"Mr. 9!"

"Can I silence her as well? She's starting to become an annoyance." Miss Valentine asked, a large smile on her face.

Mr. 5 casually shrugged. "As you will."

Miss Valentine rushed towards her, and she grit her teeth as she bucked her h.i.p.s, gesturing to Carue. "We need to save Igaram! Hurry!"

"QUAAA!"

He blurred past Miss Valentine, moving closer and closer to Igaram's prone form –

"Allah Akbar."

The horizon went white.

XXXXXX

Here's an interesting question. There's a man whose boogers are capable of creating massive explosions that can leave a wake of devastation through buildings and solid rock, destroying them in seconds. His breath can be blown into a gun and shot out with the equivalent force of numerous simultaneous hand-grenade explosions. His kicks are explosive enough to utterly wipe out three men within close vicinity, and leave their bodies as charred remnants of meat and flesh, with the residue of the explosion being a crater the size of an Olympic swimming pool.

What happens when this man decides to simultaneously explode his entire body?

The answer would normally be the complete and utter carnage of every living and non-living thing in the vicinity.

Normally, however, because this man is also capable of controlling his explosions, and, hence, is capable of making an explosion within an explosion. The first, being an explosion of nothing but pure shockwaves and concussive force, sending objects and people soaring away like as though they'd been FUS ROH DAH'd. Then, the second, main explosion, being all the good stuff, like the wall of sheer heat and fire.

I'd been standing on an island before. A nice, large island, and I'd been on a street, a nice, cool street, filled with dozens and dozens and dozens of houses. Now?

Now, I was standing in a smoky plain. A savannah of smoldering ash and thick debris. A nice grassland with neither grass nor land, and no building in sight, literally, with no building within my range of sight.

Being at the epicenter, I was, of course, in a bit of a rather large crater, kind of like the ones we see in pictures of mars or the moon. I couldn't even begin to estimate its size, but if I were, I'd wager about a dozen soccer fields… somewhere close to one or two f.u.c.k.i.n.g kilometers.

The best part of it?

It didn't feel like my maximum output.

I wasn't really focusing.

Trying.

I'd used more effort clenching my butt-cheeks or making my d.i.c.k dance while it was erect than I'd used to make that explosion.

I stood in the middle of the crater, patting myself, and ensuring, that there wasn't a single hair out of place on my body.

…Actually, there wasn't anything out of place on my body. How had I not noticed this before?

Why didn't my clothes blow up?

Come to think of it, devil fruit wielders never went n.a.k.e.d when using their powers, otherwise fangirls would have squealed whenever Ace got fired up, because his clothes would be gone when he went back to normal.

Oh – oh – this has potential.

My gaze flickered upwards, to the sight of someone floating down softly with a yellow parasol – umbrella? – and I blinked at the realization that she was still alive.

I took it back. My powers worked excellently with Miss Valentine's. Reducing her mass and floating like the breeze, she could and would always be able to get out of the truly devastating effects and ranges of my blasts without much harm. No one else, short of some logia-wielders, would be capable of doing the same.

Of course, I wasn't exactly endearing her to me, and no doubt, from high up, she'd have a truly unique view and scale of the carnage… and if she was terrified of me before…

The truth was, I hadn't known or expected my full body explosion to have that much power. Like I said, it was almost effortless. Somehow, a full-body explosion felt more effortless than blowing up individual body parts or focusing on my sweat or feet.

Was it this way with all devil fruits? Using your fruit abilities on your whole body at once being natural and easier than focusing it on other parts or other functions? If so, it would explain why Miss Valentine seemed to have preferred to simply just focus on using her devil fruit ability to modify her weight and not her arms or legs. It was just… easier.

Miss Valentine eventually landed beside me, and she was definitely more terrified of me now than she was not too long ago.

"Our mission is complete." I said to her simply. "We're heading back."

She didn't have it in her to complain, and she merely nodded her head sharply. No doubt, she thought that Vivi, Igaram, and the Straw Hats (along with everyone else on this island) were dead by now.

It was a possibility, but I knew for certain that Luffy would still be alive. Rubber doesn't explode very well. Zoro, through sheer grit would probably survive. Nami – not so much, but, there wasn't really much I could do in that aspect. Seducing her would have taken too much effort, and kidnapping her would have made me too much enemies.

Vivi however?

The odds were 50-50 to her survival. Another shame, such a damn fine woman gone to waste, but – when you're an indiscriminate bomber, these things tend to happen.

I placed my hand casually in my pocket and began a slow march for wherever the sea was, and wherever our ship was docked.

For now, I was a loyal employee of Baroque Works. Right up until Crocodile's plans paid fruition, in which case, if I didn't like what was being offered, I'd grill a croc, nab a flower, and find myself with a kingdom of my own.

Not bad at all for a serial suicide bomber.

"E-erm, M-M-Mr. 5…"

"Hmm?"

"O-o-our ship is the other way."

"Oh." I said simply. "Thank you."

"Yes, sir. N-not a problem."

"Sir?"I asked, turning to look at her. She froze up.

"I-if you don't like it, I'll –"

"No, no," I shook my head. "I like it just fine. But, when we're alone, you can call me something a bit more casual."

"W-what do I call you?"

I tilted my head a bit, before smiling.

"You can call me… V."