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The town of the beginning and the end.
You are hoping that it is the former, seeing as how you’re hoping to be recruited by someone – you just want to be a part of something, and you don’t care if the change you want to create is for the better or worse as long as you can be a part of it.
Up until now, you have been rather hesitant with how you approach life; you have avoided speaking your mind so candidly as others have, and now – realizing that those individuals have been able to get what they want, whether by words or action – you know one of the changes you must make is how you use your voice.
*~*~*~*
The bar is such a lively, bustling hub of carousal that, instead of being overwhelmed by the constant movement of people brushing and bumping against you, the atmosphere energizes you – as if each accidental bump and rub of the arm charges you up with excitement. Never mind that almost every single person in this place has more than likely killed someone in a terribly, treacherous way – in fact, everyone in here has probably killed more than 20 people – and don’t worry about the prolific amount of weaponry and drunkenness reeking the bar sour; this is your calling and you’re finally answering!
Loguetown was known for its abundance of pirates thanks to Gol D. Roger’s start and end in this very town, so of course, many pirates make it a mandatory stop on their pilgrimage before embarking upon the Grand Line. That in itself is part of the reason why you are here today.
Today, despite there being a Marine Base situated just a couple of buildings down the street, a pirate expo is being held at this boisterous bar for possible recruitment. Now that the Age of Pirates has pumped so much optimism into delinquent seafarers, many are in the market for crewmates; if you’re brazen enough to be here without worry or fear of being busted by the marines, you have enough guts to be a pirate anyways, right?
Even though it’s somewhat tightly packed with the criminal element, you meander through some of the cluster of pirates who are in your way; even though you are obviously searching for something, you still don’t know quite what it is, but the curious determination on your face is your saving grace as you continue to file through some murderous glares thrown your way since you probably didn’t intend to bump into that one guy who declared that ‘You obviously don’t know who I am, and who the hell do you think you are to e’en touch me!’ and if you didn’t know, you didn’t know.
Rounding your way around to the other side of the bar, you see an even bigger room with multiple, partitioned sections that gave a sense that the current occupants more than likely had high berries attached to their names. Some of the partitions were solid, whereas some were privacy-screened to where only a silhouette could be distinguished. Scanning the sea of people, you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes lock in place.
You see it.
Your chance, your goal, your future.
Briskly, you make your way over to one of the semi-partitioned booths - standing firm in place - unable to be so easily move if someone tried to budge you. Raising a pointed finger to one of the pirates in the booth, you let it be known:
“I want to join you on stage! And I am not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
The man, surrounded by others whom he was having a conversation with until your debut, turned to you in confusion, although a few of the people beside him started to shift in slight amusement.
“…What?”
“You heard me. I want to join you, and I’m not taking any backstage position!” Your unwavering resolve evident in how loud you began to talk. “LL Cool J, please let me join you!
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean-”
“I know you and your groupies are very busy-”
“GROUPIES?!”
“How did you know we were about to do Karaoke?”
“Well, he actually is my captain..”
Amongst the few crewmates in the back stood a husky man of what you were almost certain was of the fish variety. You pegged him as a Brody – his overall aura was definitely Brody-esque. You are also very certain he has two penises. You have questions.
The multiple outbursts allowed you to survey some of the individuals a little better. Posted beside the initial man you approached stood a giant polar bear in a retro-style diving jumpsuit, who looked equally as confused as the suit-wearing man and the fellow with a plop of carrot colored hair atop his head.
“Okay okay, sooo Dr. Fauci is a furry? Dr. Fauci, are you a furry?” The talking polar bear somewhat surprised you, taking you aback a little but not by much as you have also noticed what appeared to be a human Mini Cooper standing behind him in a speedo. Just thinking all about what has occurred over the past couple of years, this had to be Dr. Fauci in a fursuit – down to the little virus Jolly Roger he wore on his chest and the jumpsuit in general to protect him from possible contamination.
“Well, yes, I am furry, but my name is Bepo. The doctor is my captain, Law.”
“Law? LL Cool J? So LL Cool J is a doctor, too..” You say, trying your best to string together this new information.
“LL Cool J? Look, my name is just Law-”
“Well, it makes sense actually – I know you’ve dabbled with being a navy guy, a police officer, rapper – it’s only natural that you would practice medicine,” you say thoughtfully, respecting his career changes. “I even see that you were a mechanic for a hot minute, judging by the oil stains on your pants.”
LL Cool J simply gives a cold stare, knowing it pointless trying to argue with you.
The carrot-top individual eyes you warily, finally deciding to speak up. “Exactly, who are you and why are you here?”
You think it to be not so much to be a coincidence that his attire and carrot-hair combo was not indicative of his position. ”Chef. you must be the chef of this crew.”
He points to himself in disbelief as if he was not so much offended as bemused. “No, I’m a doctor. My name is Mar-”
“Whoa wait, I thought LL Cool J was the doctor now?” You pause the conversation, raising both hands to hold any more possible conflicting information.
“Hey! Hey! I’m a doctor, too!” a cute little goat chimed in, bouncing up and down in excitement. He’s so small that you didn’t see him down there.
“Wow, so there’s three doctors on one crew?” You ask incredulously, astounded by the amazing insurance and health care these pirates have. “Chef, does that mean you can make yummy medicine?”
“No no, what are you talking about? Wait, stop – I’m not a chef! He’s a chef, I’m not.” The question obviously caught the would-be chef off guard. He directed your attention to the man wearing the nice suit and a curly eyebrow, observing you and where the hell this conversation was going with a cigarette slightly dangling from his lips.
It’s not that you don’t believe him – since this guy actually looks like he could be a chef of some sort – but you chalk it up to him being no more capable of preparing green smoothies at best.
“So, if I ask for, I dunno, a smoothie, you could do that for me?” You challenge through leery eyes.
“That’s if I even want to-”
“A meat smoothie.”
“Did someone say meat??!”
A peppy farm boy who was seated at the adjacent table finally perked up once the mere mention of ‘meat’ was made. Although he was already eating something from a bento-like box on the table, it was obvious his appetite was not sated from the way his mouth watered in anticipation for a meat smoothie. “Sanji, you’re about to cook some meat??”
“No, Luffy, just keep eating your lollipops whole – you already cleaned us out! We still need to stock up,” The chef apparently named Sanji stated. Something about him didn’t quite sit right with you. Something…sinister about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Have you killed a man.” You ask, pointblank. It wasn’t even really a question, more so a statement.
“…what? So, you don’t want a meat smoothie - Hotdogs? Or Pureed meat? What?” The question had taken him aback, but even if he did understand, he chose to ignore it.
“That’s probably what you do to all of your victims, huh Tuxedo Helmet?” You charge, almost certain that you were right about this guy.
“So, there’s no meat coming this way?” The farm boy piped up again, looking incredibly bored but starved for some cooked meat. Although he looked like a simple farm boy, there was something about him that made him stand out a little bit. You decided that his name wasn’t going to be ‘Luffy’ as Tuxedo Helmet called him – no – his name was Himelaya, like that mountain but with a twist.
The beautiful lady standing nearby with a slight smile simply watched as you continued to place everyone and connect the dots. “I cannot deny some of what you say but most of it is a bit off.”
The long, voluminous black hair, slender frame of her body, the convivial gaze she carries through her robin blue eyes, it was obvious who she was.
“Esmeralda.”
“…..”
She neither confirmed nor denied her name.
“Okay, so I have at least your name right then. So, if I say that LL Cool J may or may not have given you a boob job, and that you two may or may not have slept together, would I be wrong?” you confidently assert with uncertainty.
“That doesn’t even make sense-”
“You wanna know what doesn’t make any sense, LL Cool J? The fact that ‘DEATH’ is tattooed on your knuckles. That’s how I know you’re not a real doctor.” You snapped, tired of LL Cool J interrupting you the entire time you try to make a point. “How about ‘GET WELL’ instead?? That would have been a helluva lot believable.”
LL Cool J throws his hands up in defeat, releasing a sigh as he was officially ignoring you now.
“So anyways, as I was saying,” You shift the conversation back to Esmeralda. “Am I right when I saaaay, that, y’know, you may or may not have slept with….”
You raise your eyebrows repeatedly as you discreetly not-so-discreetly eyeball the human Mini Cooper. The small smile she’s been wearing the entire time has not changed, but human Mini Cooper was already watching the exchange between the two of you – sharply turning his gaze away to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping as he glugged down what appeared to be cola. You close your eyes and cross your arms.
“I rest my case.”
Just as the speculations had been settled, a giant crash from what sounded like it came from the entrance doors initiated a flurry of yells with discord unfolding.
“No rest for the wicked – all pirates down!” An older man with slick, silvery hair burst onto the scene with billows of smoke cascading from behind.
“Ohh, I think I know you!...Um, um, ah-ha! Captain Silverhead!” You snapped your fingers as you tried to recollect where you might have known him from.
“What?”
“You must be looking for Dr. LL Cool J – I can tell you guys’ totally vibe together,” You informed the smoky individual, matter-of-factly. “He’s actually over there – probably trying to escape since you burst into here all loud and what not. Hey! Dr. LL Cool J! Captain Silverhead is here to do karaoke! Don’t kill the vibe like he did!!”
Despite your announcement, everyone in the building flew off in a more erratic frenzy to escape since Captain Silverhead’s presence didn’t seem to welcome anyone who was there.
“Are you pirate or something? Either way, you’re ruinin’ the operation. Get lost.”
Captain Silverhead dismissed you as the billow of smoke that followed him inside began to engulf his body, giving you plenty of reason for alarm until you realized smoke was, yes, engulfing his body (which you did indeed find to be a reason for concern) but the source of the original smoke actually came from an individual near the entrance of the room; there was a brimmed hat covering his face as he slept unaware of what was transpiring around him, and a small fire crept around his body - not spreading far but not quite extinguishing itself out.
It was evident that this guy was used to situations like this since the raucous didn’t rise him from sleep, and judging from his attire, he looked to be a doomsday prepper and today has become the day he’s prepared for. Well, you could only assume today was the day since the military was here and everyone was acting crazy.
Putting two and two together, you finally figured out who this guy was – the laidback vibes, the hat-over-the-face-sleeper – it had to be Huckleberry Finn in the flesh.
He didn’t go unnoticed for long, though, as Captain Silverhead snapped his attention toward him amidst the smoke and panic.
“Portgas D. Ace, your time is up.”
Even though Captain Silverhead was yelling at Huckleberry, another figure could be seen shifting through the hazy room, trying to make an escape. Through some of the haze and fleeing people, you could see an aristocratic man draped in a cozy cloak holding something. It was hard to discern exactly what it was, but certainly this guy was carrying around a whole ass beehive.
Seeing as how you are very good at addition, it didn’t take you long to realize that this guy was probably another acquaintance of Captain Silverhead since ‘bees + smoke = calm’, and he was apparently just waiting for the right moment to deploy his bees since the smoke would only neutralize them.
“Hey Captain Silverhead, when are y’all gonna release the bees?” You ask, following him as the two of you walk toward Huckleberry.
“I don’t know what hell you’re talking about - you know what,” Captain Silverhead’s patience – which already seemed short to begin with – burned out rather quickly as he turned to face you with his kebab-harpoon in hand. “You’re obstructing justice right now and I don’t have time for it!”
Stunned with surprise that Captain Silverhead did not appear to want your help nor have the decency to warn you before a bunch of bees were to be released in such an enclosed area, you shook your head but stood firm in place. “Your pal Carlos over there has a beehive as a hand and may release them at any given moment, and that’s not illegal? Is that justice?”
“GOOD GRIEF, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”
BABOOM!!
“Bahahaha, I couldn’t expect you to have all of the fun!”
Instead of entering the room as would a normal person, a burly, robust man made entry into the room by bursting through the walls. “Smoker! Have you seen my grandson? I’ve always told him if he’s gonna do things, he’s gotta do things right.”
Despite the alarming manner of his debut, you eyed the large, beaming man suspiciously, again trying to connect the dots as to where he fits in to all of this craziness.
“Bluto?” You wonder, the finger tapping your chin now pointed towards him.
“Bluto? Bahahaha, no no, his name is Luffy,”
“Garp, it’s no use-“ Captain Silverhead began before being cutoff again.
“Is your grandson Tuxedo Helmet? You both share the same sense of regal malevolence, to be fair..” You say conclusively, almost certain that you pulled the right connections.
“Tuxedo Helmet?? No, he wears a straw hat, not a helmet.”
“So he’s not that guy either?” You point to Huckleberry.
“Ace? Oh, Ace! Have you seen Luffy?” the rich and evil looking Bluto asked - although apparently, he prefers to be referred to as Garp.
“Vice Admiral Garp, I got this covered – what is going on right now??” Captain Silverhead became increasingly agitated with each exchange between everyone but himself.
Before he could receive an answer, the room started to become filled with a din of buzzing on top of the already screaming patrons that had yet to escape. The haze had pockets of darkness swirling about in the air while a heavy droning noise rose and fell in tone depending on where the darkness rested in the atmosphere. A dark, looming silhouette approached from the depths of the smoke, revealing the catalyst of the mass hysteria.
“Bees.”