Chapter Text
A month, four weeks, thirty-one days. Is four weeks thirty-one days? It didn’t matter, Morgans was a journalist not a mathematician and as a journalist he should’ve been getting fresh new scoops to put into the World Economy Newspaper so why was he sitting in his chair doing absolutely nothing. Why were the Strawhats gone? Why had they left him with nothing? Why was everything so mundane? There was only so much Morgans could work with, robbery, murder, and local gossip was decent for a little spot within the paper but as a cover page, unless it was the murder of fuckass Akainu, Morgans was left with nothing. Sure he had been able to spin tales for the public before but that was different. That was adding tiny white lies to an already mouthwatering story in order to invoke more passion and excitement from his readers. Making up a story out of thin air for nothing in return and just because he had nothing else to do was boring after a while. Nothing was coming to him by using his normal tactics so maybe it was time to change things up a bit.
The airship was bustling with people typing away at some over exaggerated affair turned murder he had them working on and a lost dog somewhere, not the fall of a government, or the capture of a warlord, not even a little civil war. His employees didn’t appreciate a real story as much as he did, no, they were just fine with the simple life but not him. Morgans emerged from his corner, earlier in the week he had decided that a little corner to himself would help with his imagination and had stayed there for some time, some of his workers had looked up from their typing to acknowledge his presence but most of them continued their work.
“Excuse me sir.” Someone tried to walk by with a pile of photos most likely to be used to spin another lie for the paper. Morgans stuck out his wing to stop them and then cleared his throat. His workers, confused, looked at him finally stopping with their little story that was surely to be forgotten within a day.
“I’ve decided, during my time in the corner, that this paper needs to become more aggressive with its approach!” Morgans declared. “I want us on everyone's ass, past, present, and future. We better know everything about them. Everything and anything will be dug up. I don’t care if it’s Crocodile having secret children or the world government doing child experimentation, we’re going to find out and I’m going to spin the shit out of it!” Morgans feathers ruffled as he made a show out of his statement, his workers, still confused, just sat in their chairs wondering what had gotten into the man.
One brave soul, slowly, raised her hand to ask, “And how exactly will we do this, sir?”
Morgans began to grin, his face wild with excitement, “I want half the News Coos focused on gathering information, the ones left can deliver the papers.” He began to explain, pointing to the workers writing at their tables and sorting through pictures and different texts he said, “I want half of you all on the ground, we have enough ships available for a small group in practically every kingdom, you are to learn as much as you can from where you’re stationed, I don’t care what tactics you have to use but you better come back with a good story. The ones staying here will continue on with their regular jobs. I'll be out looking for a scoop myself.”
“So we’ll be alone?” Another wary employee asked.
“Yes, you all know what to do when I’m gone. Write your stories and ignore the World Government unless they have something of enough value to offer.”
“How long do you plan on this operation going on for?”
“Two years, that’s how long the Straw Hats are likely to be gone for yes?”
The journalists sighed, none completely ready for ground work or the upcoming workload soon to be coming but also not ready to quit. Morgans looked around at his workers with glee, his new plan was somewhat rushed and tricky to work with, but it was likely to bring decent results and he got to get back to doing something other than making up gossip for the public to consume.
“Everyone split yourselves into two even groups, Mo will report to me if it’s even or not so don’t try to trick me!” Morgans squawked and hurried to his office. His heart was pounding from excitement, his plan was rash, it was dangerous, it was the perfect recipe for excellent journalism!