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“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Penguin said around the bottle of beer Killer’s crew had somehow scrounged up. “The first thing Straw Hat did when he woke up was to eat the kitchens dry. I didn’t even get to try the beef bowl. It’s supposed to be their specialty here, you know.”
He set down his drink and studied the neat row of stitches he was currently mapping across Killer’s broad back. Dozens of gashes, cuts, and various areas of torn flesh still remained to be done. With an air of aggrievement, he measured out more lines of a rapidly depleting supply of silk and got back to work. The Massacre Soldier and one-time Supernova didn’t even twitch as Penguin began to add more, but the tilt of his helmet was exasperated.
“Who gives a fuck about food. It’s about the real spoils. Your captain seems to think he has first dibs on whatever he wants. Kid’s the one who–”
“The one who doesn’t know a mochi from a mon and has been following my captain around all day like a lost puppy?”
Killer’s hand suddenly appeared around Penguin’s throat.
“If you pop a stitch, I’ll have to do that whole section all over again,” Penguin informed him brightly, though a bit breathlessly.
“I’ll pop your stitches, you smug bird–”
“Kin…ky…” Penguin gasped.
A pair of boots scuffed to a stop by the bag of medical supplies and crate of beer. Zoro looked from the glistening bottles of booze to the pair. “Where the hell did you find beer?”
Unable to speak, Penguin simply pointed at Killer. Zoro sat down next to them and helped himself to a bottle. He popped the top and took a contented drink under the blank gaze of Killer’s helmet. Sighing happily, he looked up and gave them both a once over. Penguin’s heavily bandaged leg and smoke-stained boiler suit got a nod, and the mess that was Killer’s back a raised green eyebrow.
“Not too bad, considering,” he declared.
Killer turned bodily to face him. “Surprised you’re still alive, Roronoa.”
Zoro took another drink and shrugged. “Got a good doctor.” He eyed the work in progress on Killer’s back and Penguin’s rapidly reddening face. “I think yours might quit if you keep strangling him, though.”
Killer waited a beat as if considering the pros and cons of this, then let go. Penguin sucked in several gulps of air. When his color began to return to normal, he smiled thinly at the Kid Pirate.
“Do that again and I’ll snip one of your rhomboids,” he promised cheerfully.
“I didn’t ask you to play nurse.”
“My captain ordered me to tend to survivors, and you barely made it into that category as it is. You and your crew. You should be chapping my boots for how many of you lot I patched up.”
“I got you beer, didn’t I?” Killer said, somewhat contritely.
“You mean the beer that he’s drinking all of?”
They both looked at Zoro. Zoro froze with a second bottle to his lips.
Suddenly, there was a succession of cracks from somewhere far away. They all looked up, Killer and Zoro’s blades flashing as they did. Two bullets fell to the floor in front of Penguin with cheery tinkles, neatly bisected. The Heart Pirate stared down at them with a sigh.
“I’m too tired for this shit. When are they gonna give up?”
Zoro looked from Penguin and back to the spot where the shots had come from. Already, able-bodied samurai and minks were converging on the area.
“Who else did you piss off?”
Penguin shrugged. “No one worth remembering–just Kaido’s leftovers. There’s still a few of them running around refusing to accept that Kaido got his ass kicked. They keep targeting the medics. Guess they figure knocking us off will lead to more casualties on the alliance side. Typical losers’ tactics.”
“We’re not in an alliance,” Killer muttered as he checked his hand scythes for nicks.
“Yeah, yeah,” Penguin said, and picked up where he’d left off stitching.
Zoro looked around the huge, open expanse of the Live Floor where many of the injured had been gathered and were still licking their wounds. While runners and helpers ran back and forth between the floor and the other levels, with his bright red medical bag, the Heart Pirate was the only conspicuous medic in attendance.
“Why don’t you go somewhere less exposed, then?” he suggested.
Penguin was humming as he tied off another row on Killer’s back. He trimmed the thread and prepped another one. “I want to be exposed. If I’m nice and visible here, they’ll keep gunning for me instead of taking potshots at my crew.”
Killer turned his head to look at him. “Using me as a shield, huh?”
The Heart Pirate grinned back. “You are conveniently large.”
“Well,” Zoro said, helping himself to another bottle, “they should have cleared the last of them by the party tonight. You just have to not die before then.”
Penguin favored him with a flat look and then a scowl as Zoro began to drink the beer. Zoro gave him an encouraging thumbs up and made to stand. He also snagged another bottle as he did.
“If you’re going to steal my beer, you can at least work for it.”
“I don’t want to work. I want to drink.”
“Then drink it here. Just sit there and block whatever comes my way. I want to get this finished, and being shot at is distracting as hell.”
“That’s boring.”
“We’ll make it a drinking game, then.”
Zoro seemed interested but unconvinced.
“If you stay, I’ll fix those stitches you popped and Chopper will never have to know…”
Zoro sat back down.
“All right,” Penguin said with a clap. He gauged his audience. “Truth or Beer Bingo.”
“Never played it.”
Penguin set down his needle and leaned past Killer to snag three more bottles of beer.
“I’m not playing a stupid game,” the Kid Pirate growled.
“Yes, you are.”
He set a bottle in front of each of them.
“First, you each make a hard rule. Something environmental. Like, every time someone takes a shot at me, drink.”
While Zoro mulled this, there was a whirring sound, and the top of the bottle in front of Penguin suddenly fell off, neatly cut. Killer stopped his spinning blade.
“I got one: When the bird gets tagged and eats it, drink.”
“Shouldn’t you at least wait till I finish stitching you up before you hope I die?”
Killer shrugged. “Booze or you shut up permanently. I win either way.”
“Stop moving,” Penguin chided as he lined up another row.
After a few moments of silence, they both looked at Zoro expectantly.
“Uh…”
There was a small explosion from somewhere on the fifth level.
“That,” Zoro said, relieved. “One of those, drink.”
Penguin nodded. “All right. Next, we’ll each take turns making a statement. The statement can be a truth or a lie. The other two have to decide which it is. If you guess right, the teller drinks. If you’re wrong, you take two drinks.”
“What’s the downside to that?”
Penguin laughed. “No real downside. Just a way to pass the time and see if you can out bullshit the others.”
“Well, not like there’s much to do until ni–” Zoro began.
There was a sharp crack. Killer huffed into his helmet as the now familiar sound of bisected metal hit the floor.
“And we’re off!” Penguin declared as Zoro resheathed Kitetsu. “Drink.” He tapped Zoro’s bottle with his own and then gleefully knocked it into Killer’s. The bigger man muttered something under his breath, but he did lift the bottom of his helmet and drink.
“Okay! I’ll go first.” Penguin cleared his throat. With the utmost solemnity, he said, “There is a Beast Pirate with a chicken for a nose.”
“Truth,” both Zoro and Killer said as one.
Penguin tipped his hat back to look at them. “Damn. You saw that guy too?” He took two long drinks of his beer. “What do you think happens when he sneezes?” They all briefly considered this before moving on.
“Killer, you’re up.”
There was a long pause before the first mate of the Kid Pirates spoke up.
“There…is a wanted poster of “Sangoro” pinned to the wall in Drake’s room.”
Zoro frowned at the mention of Sanji’s Wano alias. He scoffed. “No way. Lie.”
Penguin was less sure. He craned his head around the scarred shoulder to peer at Killer. The impassive front of the helmet regarded him silently. “Truth…” he decided eventually.
Killer stared back a moment longer then took a long pull of his beer. He nodded at Zoro. “Drink,” he said, lifting his chin.
“Just what the puffed up peacock needs…” Zoro muttered as he drank.
Zoro took a few moments to decide on his. “All right… I got one. There’s this–”
“Lie,” Killer and Penguin said immediately.
“I didn’t even get to say it!”
They both looked at him. He drank twice.
“My turn!” Penguin set down the needle and spread his hands. He suddenly leaned to the right and an arrow whistled past. They all drank.
“There was,” he said, straightening back up, “a secret army of super cool mechanized ninja in the capital under the command of Orochi.”
Without waiting for them to answer, he calmly wiped off and began taping gauze over an area of torn skin along Killer’s ribs. Both Zoro and Killer–who had turned slightly–studied his face, but his expression was inscrutable below the brim of his hat as he worked.
Zoro tapped a finger against his bottle. “Truth,” he decided.
Killer took longer, but in the end he seemed to think Penguin was going for the double bluff and decided on “truth” as well.
The Heart Pirate smoothed down the last bit of tape then looked up. “Drink,” he informed them both smugly. Glumly, he added, “Massive lie. There aren’t any cool ninjas here…”
Killer chugged the rest of his bottle and slammed it down, causing Penguin to click his tongue in irritation again.
“I got one: Trafalgar got carried around like a princess by Black Leg.”
The gleam of eyes from under Penguin’s hat narrowed.
Zoro snorted with laughter. “True!”
“I am not going to dignify that,” Penguin said eventually, with a sip of beer.
“Won’t play your own game?” Killer taunted.
The Heart Pirate stubbornly slapped gauze onto a weeping cut just over Killer’s right shoulder blade.
“He’s right,” Zoro said with a grin. “You should probably have a penalty for that.”
Penguin cocked his head to one side. “Weren’t you carried by Black Leg too…like a side of ham?” He drank the rest of his bottle while Zoro choked on his.
They gave Zoro a few moments to get his breath back. When he finally did, he opened his mouth to speak, but once again, several bangs signaled another attack. Both Zoro and Killer had to make an effort this time as the shots just kept coming.
“Are you sure you didn’t personally do something to these guys?” Zoro wanted to know as his sword blurred through another bullet. Eventually, he stood and faced the far wall of the Live Room. When the next hail of lead came, he whirled, swords flashing and glow from the lantern fires kissing the temper lines of the blades in a cascade of light as he sent the barrage back where it came from in a vortex of wind. There was an echoing boom as it connected. No more shots were forthcoming.
Penguin whistled as part of the far wall disintegrated. “That’s two drinks we have there, I think.” They all dutifully did as the smoke settled.
“Kaido’s crew are a bunch of dicks,” Zoro grumbled.
“Truth,” Killer and Penguin agreed. They gave him a pointed look.
Zoro shrugged and finished his bottle.
As Killer fished him out another beer from the rapidly dwindling crate, Penguin leaned back thoughtfully and looked up at the gaps in the far off ceiling. The rooftop battle had very nearly taken down the entire structure, but even pitted with holes, it somehow held. The moon had filled those ragged tears that night, and though the sun shone through it now, the magic of that climactic moment still hadn’t entirely faded.
“A laughing ghost leapt over the moon and two comets threw a witch into a fucking hot oven,” Penguin said softly.
Zoro and Killer looked up at the bits of sky peeking through.
“Truth.”
All three tapped their bottles together.
“Not too bad, considering,” Zoro repeated sagely, as he turned and began rummaging in the crate for more beer.
“Nothing a beef bowl wouldn’t have cured anyway,” Penguin said sadly, tying off the last of Killer’s stitches.
While the questing upper half of Zoro’s body was deep in the crate, and Killer was shrugging back into his shirt, a single loud bang split the air once more. Zoro emerged just in time to see Penguin’s head snap back and his beer go flying in a sparkling arc of green glass and gold liquid.
“Oh shit,” Zoro said. “Uh…”
Killer was on his feet and already halfway across the floor before any of the samurai on the upper levels even reacted. Zoro slowly set down the bottles he’d pulled out and leaned over the motionless man. The Heart Pirate lay there, still and silent, his hat knocked clean off his head and some distance away. There was blood on his face.
Zoro leaned in closer, and the eyes snapped open. Penguin sat up with a jolt. He raised a shaking hand and smoothed back the hair from his forehead. Zoro watched as the glistening black sheen of armament haki receded under the trembling fingertips. Blood dripped slowly from the Heart Pirate’s nose. He looked at Zoro accusingly.
“It was a good shot,” Zoro said, somewhat apologetically.
Killer reappeared a moment later and stopped in front of them. As usual, under the helmet his expression was inscrutable, but there was an air of “told-you-so” about the crossed arms. The blades of his scythes glistened wetly.
Zoro wordlessly handed Penguin the last beer in the crate, which he pressed to his forehead with a relieved sigh.
“Well,” the Heart Pirate croaked. He lay back down on the floor, arms spread and eyes closed. “I guess we have a bingo.”
The End