Chapter Text
[Egghead Island - 2 months before the Straw Hats make landfall]
It was a late evening on the so-called “island of the future.” Dr. Vegapunk Stella, the man dubbed as the smartest man in the world, had shut himself in his laboratory. This was a common occurrence, of course; he was a peculiar man who was always beyond absorbed by his own work. Solitary and focused on his research, not even his Satellites were around to keep him company at the time. The silence of the spacious laboratory would only be broken once in a while by mild mechanical bleeps, accompanied by the sight of blinking lights from all the machinery that filled the room to the brim.
Until, of course, the old man let out a frustrated groan. A slip of the hand, and a sudden colorful chemical spill stained the reflective floor in front of him.
Compared to his usual efforts, Vegapunk had found it hard to focus that evening. He couldn’t help but feel nagged by the list of obligations that had been piling up in front of him. He kept recalling how he had just received another one of a dozen of requests by the World Government –this was an extremely common occurrence which he was used to at this point. However, compared to the usual demands of weapons, of seastone structures and of Pacifistas, this request was… certainly odd. A plea, personally signed by a Marine Captain of the G-5 branch. Along with the letter detailing what they required of him, arrived a small sealed container with a well-preserved blood sample. The blood sample of a child. One that had apparently been recently held captive in the Punk Hazard facility that he himself had abandoned just four years ago.
‘Subject has shown abnormal growth; a human child nearing the size of a giant’s. She is one of many. Unless the effect is reversed, the impact on all of their health is going to very likely be fatal. She's been administered a slurry of unknown substances in order to reach this size. Our resident medical team is trying their best, but this may be beyond their full capabilities. We believe that you, Dr. Vegapunk, are these children's only hope.’
At the time of receiving this package, Vegapunk was working on an improvement of the fuel he called "Green Blood". He begrudgingly thought to himself that, once again, he'd have to put one project on pause in order to work on another. The Seraphim had grown so much already, to halt their augmentations at this point for some other sudden emergency? What dreaded timing! Why, must something always get in the way?
But knowing very well who was responsible for these mysteriously giant human children, he couldn't help but feel a very familiar upset in his stomach, and a sense of tension between his horizontally misplaced eyebrows.
[Grand Line, 37 years ago]
Somewhere on the Grand Line floated a strange, tall paddle-ship. A white flag that featured the word “Pacifist” waved on top of its tallest mast, right next to all its chimneys which were spewing out a foul dark smoke.
This ship was not that of Marines or Pirates. It was, surprisingly, a laboratory. A gaggle of men and women in white lab coats seemed to occupy it. Today, it was for all of them a regular Friday morning. Which is to say, they were being attacked by pirates.
The ship seemed to not have any cannons to defend itself with. As such, it must have looked like an easy target to the sea bandits –perhaps they assumed it was a cruise or cargo ship. After all, there was no Jolly Roger to be found anywhere on it. As the first wave of swashbuckling miscreants made landfall on its deck however, all the supposedly meek scientists that were manning it seemed surprisingly unfazed and utterly unbothered.
One by one, every single upright looking researcher that stood in front of them pulled a weapon out of their pristine lab coats. Rifles, knives, grenades. Even machinery that looked like something you’d only find in a comic book. Nobody ever expected the quiet academics to be able to fight, but that was a given on this ship; after all, they often found themselves getting attacked by such pirates and bandits.
The man known as Vegapunk Stella made a casual stroll past the brawl between the two groups. As his colleagues were busy throwing pirates into the ocean below, he was on his way to his personal station with an empty cup in his hand that needed to be filled with coffee stat. He hated that damn oil they tried to pass off as coffee in the cafeteria. He had made his own coffee machine of course, and risky as it was, he kept it right next to all of his other inventions. As he opened the door to enter inside, a small grenade exploded on the deck behind him.
As he reached toward his desk where the machine was placed, he mindlessly turned his gaze to the empty surface right beside it. Empty surface…
Empty!?
There was supposed to be a small pouch lying right there, on the table. A valuable, valuable pouch. Why was it not where he had damn left it? He looked around frantically; he toppled anything and everything that got in the way of his search. Books overturned, machinery pushed out of the way, giant stacks of papers and blueprints sent flying around. But to his horror, it was nowhere to be found. He rushed out of the room in panic, hoping to find answers elsewhere.
Out on the deck, the battle seemed to have only escalated. A few new faces had joined the all-out-war which was happening dangerously near the railing. Two youths in particular were going at it with bloodthirsty glee. One was a lad over six meters tall, brandishing a sword and eccentric striped overalls. The other, a spiky-haired young man who was wielding a strange hi-tech spear. They were each individually taking out about twice as many pirates as any of their other colleagues, and the only thing preventing them from increasing those numbers further was their constant arguing and bickering with each other. It seemed like they had turned this fight into a competition between them.
Vegapunk took a look around. Meekly hiding behind the walls of one of the ship’s cabins was another young man. He had a strange pair of horns on his head, and shared the white coat attire of everyone else. He was biting his nails and taking scared peeks towards the battle once in a while, only to let out a scared whine and draw his sight away whenever something would blow up. Of course, that would be young Caesar Clown, Vegapunk thought. He was not one for fighting, unlike those other two ruthless buddies of his. He had no expertise with a weapon or Devil Fruit to speak of, so he would usually scamper away during times like this.
Before he could further gather his thoughts, a man’s angry shouting began to echo across both ships. The source of all this yelling was none other than the captain of the pirate crew that was leading the attack. He was a man with a long blonde beard and an oversized tricorn hat that was overwhelming the rest of his head.
“Listen up you damn geeks! We’re here for the head of the man called “Vegapunk Stella!” You stole precious loot from us -we ain’t falling for your scam again!”
Scam? Theft? Vegapunk was beyond baffled. He never stole anything from any pirates, or any other group he could think of. How did they know his name? He’d certainly never seen any of these people before. What in the world was going on? He had much more prescient matters at hand at the moment to be dealing with this.
“Hand him over and we’ll leave you and all your precious little gadgets alone!”
Before the confused scientist could come up with a response, he noticed something truly outrageous. From across two ships and the tiny patch of sea between them, the enraged pirate captain was holding a tiny little sack in his hand; the exact little pouch of seeds Vegapunk had been looking for this entire time. Of all the places he could think of, the hand of a pirate was the last place he ever expected to find it in.
“The hell are we supposed to do with this!? We won’t let you get away with such a rip-off!” The pirate growled as he lifted the pouch up in fury.
Vegapunk walked forward and stood out in the open of the deck where his newfound nemesis could see him. His new pal the captain continued his angry rant.
“That damn representative of yours -he said he worked for a “Dr. Vegapunk”! He reached out to us with some sort of deal… said you wanted to offer us something valuable in exchange! And you went ahead and stole our plunder instead! We were gonna sell those two Devil Fruits for a fortune….
It’s either your head, or your ship and everything within it! Make your choice you damn brainiacs!”
A representative of his, huh? Vegapunk was starting to get suspicions as to exactly what had happened. Caesar, still hiding right to his left, let out a guilty whimper and tried to rush back inside the cabin. Before he could, Vegapunk caught him by the scruff of his lab coat.
Without letting his so-called “representative” exit the scene, Vegapunk finally decided to grace all these ridiculous accusations and demands with a response. Taking a note from the book of the fumbling and mumbling panicked teen he had just caught red-handed, he decided to lie out of his teeth.
“Yes, this is Dr. Vegapunk Stella you’re speaking to! I am the Director of this organization. I did send my… assistant, over here, to speak for me. Ahem. Why, there was supposed to be a proper payment of course! Perhaps, there’s been a misunderstanding? I believe-“
He glared at Caesar, who he was still holding tight by his coat’s collar. Caesar, staring back at him, laughed nervously while throwing his shoulders up.
“-I believe, you were not supposed to have those little seeds you’re showing me in your possession. It sounds like a simple mix-up. How about we have a nice civil talk about it? A proper exchange?”
Vegapunk was not going to have any of his precious resources and inventions taken by these brutish bandits. Nor was he actually intending on spending any of his well-earned funding money, especially not to pay for someone else’s crime. But he was going to get those flower seeds back no matter what. They were his current Magnum Opus, after all –he always said ‘current’. He didn’t know how yet, but he was certain he could figure it out along the way.
Hearing this exchange go down, Caesar switched from his nervous apologetic tone into an irritated neurotic whispering. He was hissing like an angry cat.
“What in the world are you doing!? Why did you pretend to- Why did you just tell them that you- How are we going to-“
“Oh hush, young man! This is your doing isn’t it? I am going to get us out of this situation, if I can.”
Caesar’s mind was always a mystery to him. He had joined MADS approximately two years ago, just about six months or so after its formation. He was, at the time, only sixteen years old, making him the youngest member up to this day. Normally, Vegapunk would have drawn a line on what was essentially a child joining such a large and arguably dangerous organization. However, when Lu Feld had approached him, vouching for the “boy’s genius”, he found it hard to decline the offer. Apparently, the kid had been a part of a terrible accident that took almost fifteen Marines out- a newfound chemical compound discovered by Caesar himself. Anyone who had breathed in that gas had collapsed in an instant. Lu Feld, with an oddly gleeful tone and a big grin on his face, claimed that it was a tragedy; that the “poor boy would never be able to put his talents to practice outside of the Underworld. All because of an unintentional slip of his hand!” and so on and so on. You could almost see his pupils turning into the shape of beri currency as he talked about the lad’s potential. Taking a look at the teen’s work, Vegapunk agreed that he had a prodigy in his hands, and believing the sob-story of unfortunate “accidents” he was told, he caved in.
He was now starting to wonder how much of that tale was actually true.
For the past two years, their back and forth had been one of the most frustrating endeavors he had to deal with as the director of MADS. Caesar was reckless and ruthless; he would constantly break rules and attempt foolish endeavors he was explicitly told not to. He would often go on ahead with his plans behind everyone’s back. He was a certified coward, and he had an incredible penchant for the least believable and most dramatic excuses in the world.
But when he wasn’t acting out all this rebelliousness, he would present Vegapunk with these fascinating ideas and works that even he himself had a hard time coming up with. He saw a lot of potential and a lot of good use out of the young man. After all, he would have felt guilty giving up on such youth. Out of all of his assistants, he was one of his most valuable ones. And arguably, one of the riskiest ones to keep around. The boy was by all means a living gamble.
“So, do we have a deal? Dear captain?” Vegapunk tried to keep calm and steady in his voice as he was playing up his little performance.
The pirate, sitting on the deck of the ship across from him, seemed rather unprepared for the answer he had just received. One could say he even looked perplexed. After blinking a bit too many times, he once again shouted his response.
“W-wha- Negotiations!? This has to be part of your scheme, dang it!
…
…Do you…
Do you actually have our payment?”
He wasn’t very bright, was he? The scientist was starting to understand how these pirates fell for Caesar’s ploy so easily.
“O-one demand! If you want to talk, you’ll have to do it on OUR ship! No weapons!”
Vegapunk had to think about that one. That was clearly an extremely dangerous situation to put himself in, but their enemies seemed surprisingly gullible and receptive. He started running contingency plan after contingency plan in that massive brain of his, and came to a conclusion.
“Alright. If that’s what you wish! Let me and my assistant both come over, then. No weapons.”
Caesar jumped up the moment he heard that. Even with his white harlequin-style make-up on, you could somehow still tell his face had gone pale. In his usual whiny tone, he started spitting out an impossible amount of words per second.
“Are you out of your mind!? D-don’t drag me into this! Are you brain-dead!? This is a hostage situati- they’re- they’re taking us hostage, you buffoon! Don’t play into their hands! And why- why do I have to go with you!?”
Vegapunk, choosing to ignore him, let out a deep sigh and took a step forward. Both pirates and scientists, adorning disappointed looks on their faces, took a pause from their bloody scuffle and made way for him to walk the plank between ships.
Young Caesar was still blabbering like a maniac, up until he got abruptly interrupted by his mentor’s hand -the one that had been grabbing him this whole time- dragging him along, towards the wolves’ den. Caesar, defeated, simply shut his mouth and crossed his hands, as his bottom slid across the deck’s floor onto the other side.
…
As the two white-clad men made their way onto enemy territory, they could practically feel the pierce of the blades surrounding them, even if none of the pirates’ weapons were actually making contact with them.
While being escorted down this unfamiliar deck, Caesar, still twitching and fidgeting around, began quietly yammering his director’s ears off.
“What the hell was that bold-faced fairytale you just told these crude imbeciles? You had absolutely no part in-“ He paused himself, and with one of his usual face faults, he rolled his eyes towards the sky and rubbed his own temples, as if he thought of himself as the adult in the room. “Ugh, whatever! Since when do you, of all people, act on such moronic and risky ideas?”
Vegapunk snapped right back at him, turning his face close to his companion’s in hopes that nobody around them could pick up on their unproductive bickering.
“Oh, of all the so-called geniuses in our midst, you have no room to speak of tall tales and risky endeavors, lad! If it was a title to be earned on our dear laboratory, you would have won ‘thespian of the year’ with little to no competition!”
And he wasn’t even good at it, the older scientist thought. Of course, he didn’t say that part out loud. No matter how much the other person deserved it, he wasn’t that keen on getting too personal with his lectures.
Not to mention, Caesar always defaulted to the most obvious crocodile tears whenever he thought it could earn him a bit of leniency and sympathy. And somehow, some way, it would work on a surprising amount of gullible individuals. Hell, it had even worked on Vegapunk himself, the first few times, despite the melodramatic flairs that clearly gave the performance away. At this point, it was easy to tell when he was being genuine and vice versa.
Perhaps, the director thought, some of those theatrical tendencies were rubbing off on himself. Surprisingly, he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing; he’d been told he was honest to a fault, in the past. Despite how often he chastised the youth for doing the same, something about pulling off this deception was getting his own adrenaline pumping, with a strange feeling of satisfaction to go along with it.
The gaggle of sailors manning the wooden galleon giggled sadistically as their leader pushed both of their little visitors inside their ship’s private cabin. Out of the countless armed men and women, the captain decided to grab exactly ten of them with him, to watch over their so-called negotiations.
Inside that cramped enclosed space, the bearded man and his lackeys surrounded the two lab-coats, making sure they had no way of flaking their way out of there. It felt intentionally claustrophobic, and the pressure that was being put upon them was palpable. Caesar was as uncomfortable as he could have possibly been. He was clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, and even Vegapunk couldn’t help but feel some sweat forming on his own incredibly long forehead, which was nearly bumping on the ceiling above.
“If we ever make it out of this alive, I swear I’m going to make you suffer for the rest of eternity, you damn-“ Caesar was still whirring under his breath, like an unruly electronic device. The kind that Vegapunk was used to giving a good smack to in order to make them work properly again. And he was truly considering trying that method out at the moment.
Refraining from acting out his violent thoughts, the director instead decided to break the nerve-wracking silence.
“W-well, as for your payment... I’m afraid we don’t… have that on us, at the moment -but! As an Underworld organization, when the time is right, we can certainly provide a shipment of-“
“Cut the crap!” He was interrupted by the captain’s barking. “We want the compensation we were promised right this moment, you damn gourd-head! We ain’t gonna wait for you to rob us blind again!”
“Well, then. If that’s out of the question, we still have the two Devil F-“
Caesar, with wide eyes and pressed lips, slowly and silently shook his head left and right, all while staring his mentor right in the face. Vegapunk corrected himself.
“We don’t have. Your Devil Fruits. However-“
Both scientists felt the subtle pinch of metal on their backs. This time, the swords being pointed at them were actually touching their flesh, with an added bonus of numerous gun barrels alongside them. Like hyenas, all the thugs that were “overseeing” their little barter, started slowly surrounding them and closing the distance between them. Their captain himself was starting to act less and less amicable the more he heard. As his irritation grew, he almost lashed out by dropping the little pouch he was scammed with on the ground. Seeing the man’s carelessness, Vegapunk yelped with fury he had no room for, considering the situation he was in.
“Be careful with that! Don’t you dare throw tha-“
The pirate, with no hesitation, pulled out a flintlock and pushed it right against Caesar’s chin. With the pistol in his hand armed and ready, he stared Vegapunk down and snarled like an animal.
“Another word, doctor, and your little bodyguard gets it.”
Caesar, mouth aghast and frozen in place, started sniveling and sobbing his eyes out. With his snot nearly reaching the barrel of the gun, his wordless face clearly communicated “why me?”
The bearded man slowly turned his gaze towards the little plant seeds he’d been waving around this entire time. It seemed like the very few gears in his brain had just started turning. Even a dull knife is able to cut once in a while, and Vegapunk’s panicked reaction gave the game away.
“…You really want this little thing back, don’t you?” A merciless and playful grin formed across his face. “Is that why you came all the way over here? Then this little sack must be really valuable, after all. Not sure what it even is, but… Oh, I bet we could sell this for a good amount of beri, after all.”
Damn it, Vegapunk thought. Despite all his calculations, he couldn’t account for his own sentimentality, nor for all the information he had no access to.
Everything was falling apart, and he couldn’t help but begin to actually panic. With no viable way out of this situation, he felt his heart pumping violently in his chest.
Was this the end? His sweat was dripping from his face at such a rate, that he was genuinely starting to consider whether it would trigger his Devil Fruit induced water weakness. He had a lot of face, after all. His senses must have been giving up on him; he felt dizzy, and the air around him smelled sterile, like the sort of man-made chemicals that would burn his nostrils off back in the lab. The human mind could conjure up such irrational sensations when put through its limits, he thought.
The man in the oversized tricorn hat was ready to give the final command. He lifted his available hand up in the air –the one that wasn’t busy threatening to put lead in the head of the young harlequin, and stood still. The chemical smell felt stronger than ever. Dr. Vegapunk Stella closed his eyes tight shut, preparing for the inevitable.
“There’s been a change of plans boys… We already have our loot!
…Kill them.”
3…2…1…
Bang.
The sound of a pistol being shot echoed through the tiny cabin.
…
…A single shot? That wasn’t right. There were countless of firearms in the possession of the swarm that was encircling the scientists. Yet, Vegapunk felt no pain or injury on his body. Nor did he feel any weapons lightly pushing against his spine anymore. What was going on? He was afraid to open his eyes. But his curiosity got the best of him; by all means, he should have been dead by now.
Right next to him, young Caesar Clown stood steady, still up on his own two feet. His face, however, was a sight that would be burned into his mentor’s memory.
Right where his facial features were supposed to be, there was nothing but a cloud of airy, barely visible gas. His chin, his nose and one of his eyes looked like they had gently melted into a small cloud. Right where the trajectory of a bullet being shot from that flintlock would have been. Yet, not a single drop of blood or brains were dripping off of his fancy new cavity.
Slowly but surely, his shot-through head started reforming out of thin air. By the time it was back to normal, it looked as it always had. Even his make-up looked untouched; not a single smudge of lipstick or eyeliner out of place. Through his mouth, down to his fingertips and from every large surface on his body, emitted a strange mist. It was filling the room like a heavy white fog, all in a ring around the two scientists, who stood in a “safe zone” right in the middle.
Down on the floor, ten out of the eleven pirates that were holding them hostage were lying collapsed and completely still. The only one that was still barely moving, was none other than their captain himself, breathing heavily as his lungs were slowly giving up on him.
The youth that was shaking and weeping just a few seconds ago, took a calm, slow bow. He leaned down to look towards the pirate, who was now groveling at his feet and desperately gasping for air. Caesar smiled from ear to ear and spoke to his once-captor in an unnerving melodic tone.
“My, my, a grand leader such as yourself, struggling to keep his eyes open? Why, what happened, dear Captain? Can’t speak? Can’t breathe?” His smile got wider than ever. “Oh, where are my manners? I ought to thank you. What an incredible ability, found in the hands of a group of morons that were planning to sell it off. I was searching and searching for it for quite some time. A Logia power like this… do you think anyone who lacks my expertise could utilize it? Or did you only care about lining your pockets?”
The man he was taunting had no means to respond. No amount of gloating or insult could reach his ears at that moment. Every one of his senses had already begun abandoning him, and his movements got slower and slower. With his shaking hand, he desperately clung from the bottom of the teen’s gaudy patterned jumpsuit, as if he had any strength left to get himself up with, and… he collapsed. As still as every single one of his crewmates.
With his grip loosening up, he finally dropped that desirable little sack free. In a flurry, countless little pellets spilled out on the wooden floor. They almost resembled tiny bullets, more than they looked like anything recognizably organic.
Seeing those small seeds dance on the ground, Vegapunk, wide eyed, fell to his knees, and in a panic he began frantically gathering them up back in their container with his bare hands. Realizing he had everything he needed back in his grasp, he let out a long sigh of short-lived relief and turned his horrified gaze towards his protégé.
“You… you ate one of the Fruits?”
The image of the helpless young fool he knew had just been thoroughly shattered. Was he really that out of touch with the people around him that he had, once again, fallen for another performance? He felt a lump in the back of his throat, and found that he could only blabber incoherent and scattered thoughts. “What in the world did you just… do? They’re…. are they…?”
His sense of dread morphed into fury. “They better not be-“
“They’re not dead. For now, that is. If something does them in, it won’t be me.” Caesar let out a knowing smirk, and continued with his explanation.
“They’re simply unconscious. This is a non-lethal compound I perfected a long time ago.
Last time I checked, those damn Marines simply got up and walked it away, just a few hours later… ugh.” He sounded alarmingly disappointed and nonchalant.
Vegapunk wanted nothing more than to argue, to scream at him, to ask him a million different questions, to give him the biggest lecture of his life but- he stopped himself.
“We’re going to have this conversation later, young man –I promise you that! Right now, what we need to do, is we need to get the hell out of this damn vessel! Let’s go home.”
…
On their way out, they were greeted by an influx of familiar faces. Like natural osmosis, the rest of scientists began to flood onto the enemy galleon, making their way in and incapacitating every pirate that was still standing. The echoing sound of that single bullet being fired must have been the signal they were waiting for.
Taking a look around them, all the two of them could see were their colleagues plundering in delight. It was now clear that their rude maritime visitors were no longer a threat whatsoever. The upright looking researchers, all in their sullied lab-coats, were taking and breaking with joy. Treasure, barrels, weapons. If you had asked an outsider which of the two groups that had clashed today were the bandits, they’d have a hard time answering correctly.
When the pair made their first step back onto the metallic deck of the laboratory, it should have normally been anything but a comforting environment. Yet somehow, it washed them both with a sense of relief. No longer feeling threatened, the teen took one last gander towards the wooden boat he was so glad to be rid of. He repeated his earlier smirk.
“…For now, huh?”
Within that narrow cabin, laid eleven lifeless bodies. Towering over them, stood the two young blond men who were endlessly bickering with each other just a few minutes earlier. They had seemingly made their way in along with everyone else, being the only ones with the strength to easily move past the remaining low-level lackeys and reach the very end of the vessel. Completely unfazed by the bloodbath of their own making that was staining their shoes, they simply ogled the captain’s personal loot, who was now lying cold with a big stab wound in the middle of his chest. Whether from a spear or a sword, it was hard to tell.
Inside Vegapunk’s personal lab station, Caesar was forced to take a seat and listen to the man’s endless scolding session. For every eye-roll and every dismissive answer he gave, he would be grilled for five more explanations.
What he was certainly not known for, however, was patience. After the sixteenth or so query, he eventually reached his limit of pretending to listen. Whenever Caesar lost his cool, it would usually be more comical than threatening. But with his newly acquired abilities, his tantrums suddenly felt a whole lot more intimidating. And at that moment, he clearly wanted nothing more than to bite back.
“Ugh, that’s enough! It’s over. What’s the point of mulling over it? Did you even ask why I needed to do this? What I can achieve with this? What I have planned, what my reasons were? You never take any risks, you never listen to MY ideas! So I simply took it in my own hands.”
His face turned even more bitter, a wrinkle forming around his nose while his arched eyebrows furrowed. “Do you know what it’s like? To be promised you’re the greatest and youngest mind in this stupid organization? To be in such a damn competitive environment? Where everyone is dead set on making you feel like you’re falling behind? Where everyone can fend for themselves, except for me? How is that fair!?
…Of course you don’t know what it’s like. All you do is sit it out, and soak in the endless praise.”
“You couldn’t just ask first!? You put everyone at risk! And I only reject your sort of explosive ideas that have us do repairs to one entire quarter of the damn ship.”
And it had cost one quarter of their yearly budget, too. The director, judgmental, squinted as he tried to remind his student of such past events, but Caesar could only roll his eyes, as if such consequences were a simple given fact of life.
“And what part of your righteous plan required you breaking into my station and nabbing one of my prototypes to sell it off to a pack of criminals?” Vegapunk continued.
“Oh please, I enter your lab all the time.”
“All… all the time? You’ve broken in here without my permission more than once?”
“Of course. That thing they try to sell off as coffee in the cafeteria is undrinkable. I needed to use your machine.”
“I know right? Wait. No! That doesn’t explain why-“
“Ugh, it was just- it was, the uh, the first thing I saw lying on your desk, OK!? I needed something to use as leverage, to pass off as “a rare scientific resource” or whatever- just long enough to get them off my back! Something those morons and their lack of basic academic knowledge wouldn’t be able to question.”
No matter how convincing his excuse was, his guilty grimace clearly implied that he wanted to be rid of the damn thing. Jealousy is a hard beast to control, and all Caesar could see in his sleep for months were useless, pointless, horrid little green flowers sprouting all around him. What kind of genius scientist wastes all his time working on a damn garden-variety botany project, he thought.
He took a pause. His neurotic expression took a slow turn towards calm. You’d rarely catch him serious or put-together like this. But this, combined with his signature melodic tone, usually meant that he was putting the theatrics aside to rhapsodize about something that he had actually given thought to.
“Do you want to know why I needed those two Devil Fruits, director? You never asked about the other one, did you?
It was a Zoan. The Bat-Bat Fruit. I needed them both.”
He took some badly scribbled papers out of his pocket, taking the long time needed to unfold them from their origami prison, and presented the doctor with an idea; a new idea.
“Devil Fruits… They have Bloodline Elements in them, like any other living thing. Your own discovery- the one you’re so desperately trying to get published everywhere! How you are underutilizing it!
A Zoan Fruit contains the genetic material of the living creature it hosts. You confirmed this yourself not long ago, did you not?
…What would happen if you extracted it? Could you… recreate Devil Fruits? To make the right solution, one that mimics the birth of a Zoan back into circulation, you’d need extreme pressure, you’d need rare gases that are hard to mine or extract in high quantities... Such circumstances would normally be impossible to recreate with what we have right now! But with my newly acquired power… This could be MY Magnum Opus. This is my research! I’ve been working on it since the beginning!
How far did you go for those little flower seeds of yours, director? Can you blame my extreme measures when they’re done in the pursuit of science? I know you know how this feels.
You know better than anyone.”
What a peculiar tone of voice that was to come from the mouth of young Caesar of all people. You would only hear it when all his melodrama would melt away, and you could feel his passion for his field of study. This was one of those very scarce moments of sincerity; Vegapunk could feel it. It was in moments like this he’d suggest such new projects that even he found brilliant. The tall-headed man wanted to speak, to fight back, but something in him was preventing him from… disagreeing with what he had just heard. The teen continued his soliloquy uninterrupted.
“SAD, I call it. It’s a unique chemical extract. Artificial Devil Fruits… they’re possible.” He was exclaiming this in genuine excitement- an emotion you didn’t see often from this young man.
Like a proper jester, he pulled out a small vial from the same pocket that looked too small to be holding both this and the unending tome of papers from earlier.
It was filled with an odd liquid, no more than 4 milliliters of it. Green. Neon green. It filled the room with a mild glow.
“This is an Underworld organization, director. We’re here to serve our financial benefactors, sure, but on top of it all, it’s about the pursuit of science. Doesn’t the idea fascinate you? Reaching the limits of what’s possible using the most mysterious specimens on this planet?”
Vegapunk stared at the little vial in awe. Despite everything that had happened today, he had no choice but to agree.
He thought, and thought about it. After all of today’s adventure, he finally turned on the coffee machine and let it make his drink.
“You can… keep working on this research. It would be a lie to say I’m not intrigued myself, after all.
However, no more scams! No more getting yourself and everyone in trouble behind my back!” A final lecture to send him off. Both of them knew this was the signal of approval.
Caesar gave the dumbest flattered smile in the world and hastily shoved everything back into his seemingly ultra-dimensional pocket. That was all he needed to hear before going his merry way for the rest of the day.
But the idea latched onto Vegapunks head.
How could he not keep thinking about it from now on? Of course Devil Fruits have a life signature of their own... Artificial Devil Fruits, huh? His enormous brain began to chaotically ruminate as per usual. What brilliant ideas was he presented with, once more. Could you go further than Zoans? Could it even be done? Could it have side effects? What about Paramecias, Logias…
He got so lost in his own thoughts of discovery, the sight of bloodied pirates completely exited his mind.
That man, who he was able to call his assistant for about over thirty years of his life at this point- that man was the very reason he had to move to Egghead to begin with. Could he have really stayed back in Punk Hazard all this time? Had he gone back? Could he be responsible for this?
The lone Dr. Vegapunk Stella decided to respond to the Marine captain’s earnest request. He took a small break from his work, and began furiously typing a message on a big clunky keyboard. The sound of clicking echoed across the empty laboratory. He was going to reassure the medical personnel of the G-5 branch that he would run blood tests on the sample he was so carefully and diligently delivered. And when it was all said and done, he’d send over detailed instructions on how to take care of those poor oversized children.
Finishing up his response, like clockwork, he went back to continue on his usual work without even taking a bit.
Just like back in the day, his mind raced back and forth, with the usual chaotic and unsorted thoughts of a brain that was the size of a giant. A habit he never got rid of, even with the help of his Satellites. He wondered about what happened to that Mythical Zoan he had made a copy of back in Punk Hazard. He unsuccessfully tried to appease his own perfectionism; the only problem was the pink color of the dragon, yes, but he could have messed up in much greater ways! It could have had much worse, gigglier side effects! Oh, what sloppy work, the damn SAD! It wasn’t that hard to optimize the solution either, if he was the one doing it he’d make sure it didn’t have such detrimental results and- Ah, but if he had gotten a second chance with that stupid dragon, he would have for sure gotten that sweet azure color of the scales right- it haunted him, really!
He kept thinking and thinking and… he was done. Back to reality. His hands were moving on their own, during the entirety of his journey within his thought train, doing the work as if independent from his head.
He sealed up the vial of the concoction he was working on. An oddly familiar bright green hue. Almost neon, it filled the room with a mild glow. With this, the Seraphim, surely, would be able to utilize the powers of even Paramecia Fruits at their disposal! Them still being young was vital to the process too; he had a limited amount of time before they would grow. The immune system of an adult would most likely get in the way of the Green Blood’s optimal results and efficiency. But now, the days of being limited by the traces of an animal’s genetics were over! This was the next step in the peak of humanity!
My, how far science has come!