Chapter Text
[6 months before Ace sets sail.]
She would be there any moment now. It was about damn time too. She was starting to get bored.
Stussy sat poised at the helm of her vessel. The benign rocking of the waves kept her company in the silence, as she tilted her chin slightly and stared intently into the compact mirror she held delicately in her hands.
She was flawless, which came as no surprise. Porcelain skin, bold velvety lipgloss, and her mascara framed her eyes with an air of allure. Stussy dipped her left index finger into a jar of rouge—just a touch, but never more.
With one last glance, she shut her mirror and tucked it into the folds of her coat. Composure never faltered. Beauty was just another tool—another weapon in her arsenal. Because, if there was one rule Stussy followed, it was this: life was a battle and beauty was a motherfucking machine gun. Never leave your face exposed. If someone can see where your makeup ends and your face begins, you’ve done it wrong. It’s a face—not a mask. You have to blend.
The looming walls of Mary Geoise came into view. It was just as massive and untouchable as she remembered it.
She took her time standing, smoothing out the folds of her pastel blue gown. Her heels clicked lightly against the deck as her vessel began to glide slowly towards the entrance to the Holy Land.
A gold transponder snail intercom sat in front of the entrance. Stussy approached fearlessly, lifting the receiver with a gloved hand. “Stussy of CP0.” She declared, her voice velvety and sly.
Silence.
Then, a deep, husky voice broke through the line. “State your identification.”
Her lips curled faintly. “How formal."
The voice didn’t budge. “State your identification.”
She chuckled as she reached into her pocket for her ID and held it up to the transponder snail. “Stussy of CP0. I bring news of utmost importance to the Five Elders.” Her tone was honeyed but firm.
A beat of static followed.
A moment later, a mechanical click of authorization could be heard over the intercom.
“Identification cleared. Stussy of CP0. You will abandon your vessel at the designated entrance. You will be given a new one once you leave. Proceed through at once.”
Stussy smiled, but the gesture did not reach her eyes. She slipped her ID back into her pocket.
She stepped off her ship, which had become nothing more than a forgotten accessory. She stepped onto the marble platform, and the towering archway began to open. And there it was: the famous bondola. The doors to the vessel opened, revealing a few agents awaiting her presence. She gently curtsied as she took the first agent's hand and stepped in. “What a gentleman,” she mused as the doors closed behind her.
The man flushed as the mechanical system whirred beneath them, pulling them toward the heavens.
Mary Geoise unfolded beneath her as she ascended.
She watched as slaves were dragged across the pristine floors, their chains clanging against the marble roads. They were dressed in scraps and looked as if they had not eaten in forever.
A frail man collapsed from the weight of his noble's treasure chest. His knees hit the marble road with a hard thud. His owner, a woman dressed in the finest of silks, made a noise of disgust.
“Despicable creature! How dare you taint these streets with your filth?!” Sneered the noble and slammed her cane against the man's neck. The man let out a weak cry of pain.
Stussy watched, silent, unreadable. This was nothing she had not seen before.
The guards stationed beside her held a flustered gaze. “Lady Stussy…” One of them mustered the courage to speak, bringing her attention to them. He was clearly new to the job. “Security protocol requires that we conduct a search before we arrive at Pangaea Castle.”
A second agent chimed in—much older—nodded curtly. “Standard procedure. We must ensure that no unauthorized weapons enter the premises."
Stussy arched her brow and locked her gaze on them. She let the silence stretch for a moment longer before smiling slyly. “Oh? Is that so? You suspect me of carrying something that could endanger the Five Elders?”
The rookie agent gulped. “N-Not at all! It’s just protocol. Nothing personal!”
She then rose with grace. Both men briefly glanced at her form before returning their attention to her.
“Well then,” Stussy purred, extending her arms out to either side, causing her coat to shift against her curves. “We wouldn’t want to break protocol, now would we?”
The older agent turned on his scanner as he cautiously stepped forward, carefully running the device along the length of her body. A bright blue light swept across her form.
He was quite thorough. But not once did he meet her gaze. The rookie agent's face burned as he kept stealing glances at Stussy before looking away.
At last, the device produced a final, confirming beep.
“See?” Stussy smoothed the front of her coat as she stepped back. “Totally harmless.”
The rookie focused on the ceiling.
Stussy lowered her lashes as she glanced at the elder. “Did you enjoy it?”
He only coughed into his fist.
The bondola gave a final jolt as it approached the upper docking station and the silhouette of the castle loomed ahead. Stussy smirked and brushed past them, “Good boys.”
The gates opened, and she cast one final glance over her shoulder. “Be seeing you.”
And with that, she vanished into the grandeur of Pangaea Castle.
The chamber was dimly lit, aside from the eerie glow of candlelight flickering against the polished floors. Shadows stretched long and menacing, cast by the five elders seated at the grand table.
Stussy was ready. Her hands remained clasped in front of her as she spoke, her voice smooth as silk. “It is done.”
The atmosphere in the room began to shift. The elders exchanged glances, their facial expressions unreadable.
“It is done.” Saint Mars repeated and searched Stussy's face for any signs of deception. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Yes,” she confirms. “The Moonchild is dead.” She proclaims.
“The Moonchild is dead,” Saint Ju Peter murmured, testing the words on his tongue. It seemed too good to be true.
Stussy watched the realization come to their faces. The tension dissolved into something darker, more sinister. It was satisfaction.
She reached into the folds of her coat to retrieve a small, sealed container and file. She set it on the table before them. “See for yourselves.”
Saint Nusjuro reached forward for the file as Saint Warcury opened the container. A small, black feather resided in the container with traces of blood clinging to the edge, where it had been torn off from the back of its owner. Even in death, it retained tremendous power, as if unwilling to release the energy it once possessed.
The entire room was silent.
"Was the execution clean?" Saint Saturn enquired.
Stussy purred. “Oh, hardly. You desired justice, and I ensured that you would receive it.”
Saint Nusjuro, who had the file, gave Stussy a satisfied look as he passed the documents around to the others. The photos were gruesome, with the body in pieces and severely beaten.
Stussy stepped forward, her voice dropping an octave. “They fought. Quite fiercely, if I may say so. We lost a few agents in the process. They refused to give up, even as they bled and their small body gave way beneath them. The moonchild burned like a dying star, yearning for a chance at redemption. But in the end?”
She leaned in slightly, her smile curving like a blade. “They screamed and suffered a painful death."
Saint Mars inspected the feather. The only remnants of the demon that caused a commotion throughout the seas. “A shame. Their existence was an abomination, yet their resilience... How troublesome.”
Saint Nusjuro snarled. "It is in their nature to be resistant. But their kind caused an imbalance. An anomaly. But at last, justice has finally been served.”
Saint Ju Peter mused, “The Moonchild’s actions shifted the tides of the world. A dangerous ripple in the order we have long upheld. How frustrating.”
"But it is a ripple that will now perish just as they did," Saint Warcry rebuked. His gaze flickered to the feather, the file, and then to Stussy. “Well done.”
Stussy offered a small, graceful bow. “Balance is restored just as you desired.”
"So, what is the status of the fruit the demon bore?" Saint Saturn asked. All eyes were on Stussy.
"A group of our best men is already on the hunt for the fruit. I assure you, Saint Saturn, that once it is located, it will be in your hands exactly as it should have been." She affirms.
He looked satisfied. “Good. Such power should be limited to us. Very well. We anticipate receiving updates in a timely manner. You are dismissed.”
The aroma of warm apples and cinnamon wafted through the salty sea. Reclined across her lounge chair, a forkful of sugary sweet pie found its way to Stussy’s lips, and she hummed in delight.
Mary Geoise was no longer within her range, leaving her with only the sea and her delicious apple pie. Just the way she liked it. She sighed contentedly, tilting her head back.
The celebration had already begun as she prepared to leave the Holy Land. She had witnessed the nobles parade their delight through the streets. They mocked the Moonchild by draping slaves in battered silk, carving crescent marks on their bodies, and forcing them to kneel while being pelted with weapons and set ablaze. Some screamed. Some sobbed. Some had already given up and succumbed to their injuries.
Stussy just smiled as she walked past it all.
Let them revel in their joy. Evil had finally perished.
The Moonchild is dead.
Purururu. Purururu. Purururu. Purururu.
Stussy took a large bite of her pie before reaching over to retrieve her communicator.
“Fufufu! Good morning, afternoon, or whatever time it is in the peculiar pocket of the world where you presently exist, my dear Stussy! Or is it the darkest night? A fabricated concept if I do say so myself! The Stellas and I recently considered a—"
"Doctor," she interrupted, a faint amusement coursing through her voice. “Focus.”
A pause. Then, the voice cleared its throat.
“Right! What’s the status?”
She took another enormous bite of her pie. “Mary Geoise is celebrating as we speak. The elders believed every word, and the evidence was more than sufficient, Doctor. The news will soon spread far and wide. The Moonchild is nothing more than a burning corpse that screams."
“........ Horrifying imagery, my dear.”
"You are the one who asked me to sell it." Stussy licked a drop of cinnamon syrup from her lips.
“Touché, my dear.”
Stussy placed her empty plate aside and adjusted her sunglasses. "Have there been any updates since my departure?"
“... Nothing, my dear. No trace, no whisper, not even a peculiar fluctuation in the air. If they are out there, they clearly do not want to be found… Although….”
“Although?” Stussy pressed.
"That may be the best decision the Moonchild could make.” The doctor gave a solemn reply. “The Elders, the government, and soon the entire world will believe that the Moonchild has died a gruesome death. There is no more pursuit. If they are wise, they will remain hidden. And maybe… They will have a chance.”
Stussy exhaled slowly, lips curling in thought. “... So, we leave them be.”
“We leave them be.” He repeats with satisfaction.
Stussy allowed the silence between them to continue before murmuring, "Did you know that the elders believe that the Moonchild's absence has restored balance? Justice has won in their eyes.”
A hearty laugh emanated from the snail. “Oh, my dear Stussy… Balance is a fleeting illusion. The world does not remain still for long. It would be boring if it did, am I right?”
Her lips quirked as she reclined in her chair, lifting her sunglasses slightly. “I suppose so.”
“Besides…The world can do everything it can to smother the moon, but it will never truly break. Because, my dear Stussy, the moon was never theirs to silence. The Moonchild will bend… They will fade… And then, they will rise again. There is no force that exists that can erase what was born to endure.”
A warm, salty breeze rolled across the deck. Stussy tapped her fingers against her chair, a smile on her face as she lowered her sunglasses.
“So be it then,” she mused. “Let’s just hope that the balance the world cherishes so desperately can withstand the weight of a rising star… Because they’ve done more than cast a shadow over the moon—they’ve turned an eclipse into a supernova.”