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Crocodile was leaning on the rail, puffing his cigar and looking out at the smoking wreck of Dressrosa. It reminded him, of course, of Alabasta. How could it not?
The second low point of his life. The moment he thought was truly the point of no return.
And yet, somehow he had returned, stronger than ever. Thanks to Straw Hat, himself.
Could the same be said for Doflamingo? Crocodile wondered. He was currently waiting to hear news of his former fellow Warlord's fate. Straw Hat had beaten him to a pulp, that he already knew, but it was anyone's guess whether that would mean that the marines had gotten him..
Or that they could hold him.
Crocodile suspected that they couldn't. Not unless the same thing had happened to Doffy that had happened to him - that he'd bottomed out and wouldn't bother to resist.
He was still contemplating just what he'd do if that turned out to be the case.
They had been close once, he and Doffy. As close as a pair of rival pirate captains could be. Crocodile had even laid low at his hideout on Spider Miles, after his disastrous clash with Whitebeard. And after that, they were as close as a pair of government lapdog Warlords could be. Closer, even.
Crocodile hated to admit that, especially during the early years of his tenure as a Warlord, before Baroque Works had really gotten going, Doflamingo was one of the closest things he'd had to a friend, as well as being a frequent lover.
After the Warlord offer, Mihawk had insisted that he and Crocodile publicly part ways. Mihawk had been his first mate, had been his emotional anchor. But Mihawk had said that the World Government would use their bond to manipulate them, and Crocodile, full of more bitter bile than he had ever been, knew that he was right.
There had been a very public feud. After that, Crocodile didn't speak to him except for very rarely at Warlord meetings. It was painful. It grew a ragged scar on the wound of his heart.
Meanwhile, Doflamingo– careless, exuberant Doflamingo– didn't seem to care about the World Government one bit. He swooped in to harass Crocodile whenever their paths crossed, teasing him, toying with him, trying to bait him into an argument– or drag him out for dinner.
Crocodile endured ages of it before he'd finally relented, in his bitter, lonely restlessness. Drinks had led to sex. It kept happening. Doffy always wanted more. Crocodile always kept him at arms length. He always told himself this was the last time.
The real last time was just before Alabasta. The last Warlord meeting that Crocodile had ever attended.
"Captain Crocodile, sir. I have a report."
The warm, familiar voice brought Crocodile out of his brooding reverie, and he snapped up, squaring his shoulders, and turning around so that he was face to face with his current first mate, Mr. Daz Bones.
Though they'd encountered one another briefly when Daz was a child, Crocodile had only really gotten to know him when he'd hired him on, years later, in a double role. As the 'number one' of his secret Baroque Works empire, and as the bodyguard of his public face, the 'hero of Alabasta', Sir Crocodile.
Crocodile had often wondered if Daz would resent him, or feel betrayed when he learned that both his employers were the same man. But he'd had his answer the same day. Daz had stuck by his side even when it was madness to do so. Even when it sent him into the hell of Impel Down.
He was the most loyal man that Crocodile had ever met.
Crocodile smiled around his cigar and took it out of his mouth. "Report then, man."
"Donquixote Doflamingo was seen in seastone chains, being ushered onto a Marine warship."
Crocodile's stomach dropped like a stone.
It was that moment when he was forced to acknowledge that he'd been expecting, if not hoping, Doflamingo of all people to turn the tables and escape.
"When?"
"The day before yesterday, sir."
"Fuck."
That was the day the whole mess had gone down. They'd been on a course for Dressrosa to catch up with Straw Hat, but hadn't arrived until after the Birdcage had gone up. All they could do was watch. And after the end of it, Crocodile hadn't wanted to approach the island - not when it was swarming with marines!
They'd stayed back in open water, well away from the island, and only made contact with Straw Hat - to reunite him with Vivi, who Crocodile had difficulty letting go of - when he was making his own escape. Then they'd sailed back toward Dressrosa to check on the situation.
Crocodile realized he'd been half planning to meet up with Doflamingo as he and his obnoxious family fled the island, but it looked like that was overly optimistic. By a mile.
And they'd missed him.
The marines were already spiriting him off to that horrific prison - that torturous purgatory - that Crocodile himself had only just escaped.
He looked up at Daz and saw that he must be thinking the same thing. The things that the two of them had endured.
Crocodile grabbed Daz's shoulder– partly to steady himself.
"What are your orders, captain?" Daz reached up and he rested his hand on Crocodile's arm.
What were his orders?
Crocodile had to make a decision now. He didn't have the luxury of brooding, or planning. It was act, or fail to act.
Doflamingo had propositioned Crocodile with an alliance that day at Marineford, and Crocodile had brushed him off. Insulted him, even. At that time, he was a criminal who had just escaped Impel Down, and Doflamimgo was a government watchdog. There was no time to explain to Doffy what was going on, or to tangle with his schemes jokes, or to convince him to defect from the warlords.
Crocodile had been there for one reason - Whitebeard, and like Mihawk that day, Doflamingo had only been in his way.
With the way things had gone down, Crocodile regretted it. He'd been regretting it for two years.
Now was the time to make it right.
"My orders?" Crocodile growled. "Set in a course for Mary Geoise. They'll have to take him through to get him to Impel Down. And before that, they'll have to stop at least a couple of marine checkpoints. Marines travel slow. If we head straight for the Holy Capital we can likely intercept them before they get there."
"And if we don't manage to intercept them, sir?"
"I'll figure it out when we get there."