Chapter 2: Thirty Miles to Gator Town

Thank you's to these beautiful people: DrAnime203, camierose, Sheep, Liz, the everchanging, and Perpetual Concern.

—

methyl nitrate pineapples

hypothesis #2

thirty miles to gator town

—

Sophie woke up a very familiar room.

"Good, you're awake," said a very familiar voice. "I've been dying to try this new heart procedure, but I just couldn't find any volunteers."

Chains were knotted around her wrists and neck and ankles, binding her to the table. Something like oh god not again mixed with so you like bondage, huh was pushed aside to doesn't matter, get me out! She yanked, hard, but the chains began tightening. Sophie choked as it pressed against her neck, painfully hot.

A shadow stood above her. "I hope you don't mind I didn't give you any anesthesia. The pain and blood loss should knock you out soon enough, anyway."

She desperately fought the burning steel, so hot it was melting her insides and blackening her flesh. Sophie tried to scream, but her voice was choked by horrified fear. She was sinking. This was her hell, this was Vira, this was the Vice Admiral… and they were pulling her down.

"Fair warning, Chemist-ya: it has a death rate of one hundred percent."

He loomed over her evilly and revved up a chainsaw.

"Eeyaauugh!"

Sophie sat up so quickly she smacked her forehead and saw little pirate skulls spinning around in the air. "Holy pineapples stop I'm too young to die!" she wailed nonsensically, curling up into a little ball and pressed against the wall.

She lay there, shivering, for several seconds. Someone tapped her shoulder. "Excuse me… Miss?"

The unfamiliar voice sounded… wizened. But nice. Distinctively non-piratey. Sophie tentatively rolled around. She peeked up at an anxious-looking nurse and an old man with poufy white hair and a bright red spot on his chin. Sunlight filtered in through the open windows. A ceiling fan whirred loudly overhead. Oh. So she was at��oh.

Oooh crabapples…

"Umm…" Sophie smiled weakly. "That… was unintentional."

"It looks like the poison cleared up," the doctor laughed, sitting down beside her. "It warms my old heart to see my patients so lively."

"You'd be the first," she muttered under her breath.

The doctor blinked. "Hm?"

"What?" Sophie blinked back, folding the blanket in perfect, crisp ninety-degree angles.

"I thought I heard—oh, never mind an old man's ramblings. I have a few forms I need you to fill out, just for the records and all." He dipped a quill in ink and started scribbling on a sheet of paper. "First—you checked yourself in as Strangways Sophie. That is your real name, yes?"

"Uh-huh." She paused from rearranging her pillow. "Wait—I checked myself in?"

"Yes," he said distractedly, "Four days ago."

She gaped. "Four days?"

The doctor looked up. "You… don't remember anything?"

"Um." Sophie wracked her memories. "Was I choking a squirrel at any point?"

"It's understandable," the nurse assured. "You were in a state of near collapse. The poison in your body was attackin' your nervous system. You kept on crashin' into things an' dry-heavin' everywhere…"

Sophie felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. If that stupid, crazy, idiot, psychotic, murdering pirate hadn't tried to kill her… ugh. Thankfully, a knock on the door distracted Sophie from her plans to sink in the ground and die. Another doctor appeared, beckoning toward the nurse.

"Room Five," she muttered. "A marine just woke up. We need to get him under anesthesia."

The nurse looked troubled. "Right. I'll leave this t' you," he told the doctor.

"Alrighty. You go on and save some lives."

Sophie watched the nurse leave, suddenly realizing something. "I've never that man's accent before."

"It's the Crawfish Island accent. There are different dialects from village to village, but all the natives have it. Some say this island originally drifted here from South Blue." The doctor chuckled. "Moving islands, can you imagine? But stranger things have happened in this world." He pulled gently on her eyelids. "Look to the left, please."

She did as the doctor directed.

"Your vital signs are all good, and your speech patterns are normal." He slipped the stethoscope around his neck. "How did you manage to get all that parathion in you anyway? Did you chug a whole can of bug repellent?"

"Something like that," Sophie shrugged, smoothing out the wrinkles on her hospital gown.

He looked genuinely interested. "That must've been quite a sight. The poison, as the nurse said earlier," he indicated to his temple, "disrupts the nervous system; you get tremors, vomiting, very severe diarrhea—"

"I know what parathion does," she said shortly. Sophie really wasn't too fond of being reminded of the pirate. Or his stupid mocking smile. Or his stupid grey eyes. Or his evil, stupid-looking goatee. Or the way his hands felt, so light it was like a whisper on the air just above her skin, and it was a pity he was about to kill her because he really had nice hands—

…AND SHE DID NOT JUST THINK THAT.

"Ah, that's right," the doctor blithely went on, oblivious to Sophie's mild seizure in the corner, "You're a combat medic, correct?"

She stopped hyperventilating for a moment. "How did you…?"

"Your identification tag, Miss."

Sophie fell off the bed, flailing. Bad memories, bad memories!

Unfortunately, she was still attached to the IV and the heart monitor, so it resulted in a mess strewn across the floor. Sophie threw herself at it and hastily rearranged the drip and the monitor so they were symmetrical to the other machinery. Yep, all according to plan���The doctor watched her with slightly befuddled amusement. That amusement slowly turned to concern as Sophie gingerly peeled off the tape that held the IV in place.

"Ah… you shouldn't do that, Miss. We still need to wait for the diagnosis to come back before we can let you go."

"No time. I really need to go home—back to G-13," she mumbled, lightly pressing on a band-aid over the crook of her elbow. She took exactly four tiny steps over to the sink. Her foot felt decent enough to walk on. "And if you try and pull the Code Grey card on me," Sophie warned as she started washing her hands, "I swear, I will find you and I will eat you."

She tried to make it threatening. She really did.

The doctor stood up with a creak of his joints. "Well, if you're homesick… and Marine bases usually have fine doctors… alright, you're free to leave. You're in good shape and you don't seem to have any complications from the treatment. All I ask is for you to pay."

"…Pay?"

"The bill," the doctor clarified.

It took Sophie a moment to comprehend that. Living on World Government funds, she'd never paid money for anything in her entire life.

"Oh! Right. Of course! All I need is to go find the nearest Marine base and call my sensei and we'll have everything sorted out!" She rubbed the bar of soap furiously between her fingers. "So I'll need directions to the base, the nearest shop that sells cigarettes, and… and… why are you looking at me weirdly?"

He scratched his white beard, coughing. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Four days ago, a group of pirates completely destroyed it."

Her hands froze. "Pirates?"

"The… the… oh, what were they called? Oh, yes, the Heart Pirates. Led by the Surgeon of Death, Trafalgar Law. They haven't caused any trouble yet. His group only looted the base, which is—was—some miles away from here." The doctor peered into her face. "Is something the matter? You turned very pale all of a sudden."

She swallowed and turned off the faucet with her elbow. "Do you have a Den Den Mushi?"

"Out in the lobby, go straight and then turn right. But, Miss—"

Sophie dashed away with a speedy thank you and goodbye. The Den Den Mushi snored on the reception desk. She zoomed over, tripped over her feet, somersaulted like a ninja, and coolly dialed G-13's number.

The snail's eyes popped open. "The line is presently unavailable."

That must be a mistake. Sophie hung up and redialed.

"The line is presently unavailable."

"Then make the stupid line available! This is Strangways Sophie! I really need to speak to Charaka Hippo, head of G-13's medical division! It is of the upmost importance. The-world-will-die and all that jazz!"

There was a brief pause, and then…

"The line is presently un—"

"Water-figging-melons!" Sophie threw the receiver back on the hook.

Relieved of its call, the Den Den Mushi started to snore lightly. A couple by the door covered their child's ears.

Sophie felt like kicking the wall, she was so frustrated. She used to have a baby Den Den Mushi reserved solely for when she was separated from Hippo, but she left it back at… back… Sophie inhaled through her teeth and pushed the Den Den Mushi slightly more to the left of the desk.

After a pause, she also rearranged the tissue box and the little jar of ink.

"Strangways, right?" the receptionist asked, flipping through her clipboard.

Sophie looked up. "Yes. Wait. That was a conditioned response. I actually have no idea what you just said."

The receptionist popped a bubble. "Yeah, you're definitely that girl. Y' knocked over three potted plants, broke at least five of the toys we keep for the kids, an' overturned the fishtank. Y' killed Hermy the hermit crab. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Sophie fidgeted. "Do I have to pay for all that?"

Her expression darkened.

"…I mean… I am definitely going to pay for all that!"

She gave Sophie a sugary-sweet smile. "The bank's down the street. The biggest buildin'. Y' can't miss it."

"Right… thanks…" Sophie weakly saluted and sidled out the front door. A minute later, she ran back inside. "Forgot my lighter." She paused. "Taking my clothes would be a good idea, too."

—

When she turned eighteen, Sophie had been given full access to her bank account. Ever since she went under his care, Hippo made sure to add to the pile of beli every month. 'Course, he also took out a bit every month to help pay for damage repairs. She'd keep on insisting it wasn't her fault—the accidental explosion of the Marine lavatories, the inadvertent corrosion of half the Marine base, the unintentional Great Sulfur Incident when she was fourteen…

Sophie sighed as she examined the rest of the beli. She'd spent most of it on the hospital bill, Hermy the hermit crab's funeral, a leather satchel, a box of yummy cigarettes, and a new wardrobe. She kept the scalpel, her lighter, and what remained of her Marine clothes in the satchel. Sophie sighed again. Even after she bought a comfy pair of laced-up boots, she still hadn't been satisfied. Not wanting to settle for some Doskoi Panda knockoffs, she ended up forking over thousands of beli for top-notch Criminal clothes. B-but it wasn't her fault! The smell of beautiful, luxurious clothes called to her…

And it certainly didn't help that Crawfish Island was a humid pit of hell.

Absolutely miserable, Sophie rested her head on the bar counter. "Beer," her voice was muffled, "strongest you have."

"Yes'm," she heard the bartender drawl, and the sound of glasses clinked.

The fan in the corner slowly whirled towards her, a warm, tepid wind fanning the flush on her cheeks. Sweat formed where the back of her legs touched the chair. Her curls were so frizzy Sophie wouldn't be surprised if she shocked herself just by glancing at metal.

The record player sang a scratchy, upbeat little tune and she found herself tapping her fingers to the tenor of the sax. Sophie looked up as the bartender pushed over a glass of beer.

"Cheers." She raised her glass and then downed half in one gulp. It felt warm on her tongue and burned in her veins, like life. "So!" Sophie said grandly. "Crawfish Island! Spring Island, I think?"

"S'right. If you haven't seen 'em before, you should check out the swamps. They're still regrowin' down here, but the ones up north? Huge, massive things. Always a hit with tourists—what little of 'em we get here."

Sophie made a face. "No, thank you. Swamps are dirty."

"Romance can bloom anywhere," he declared with an air of grand mystery. "Hot an' humid all 'round, but if it don't draw out nostalgia even in the most hard o' hearted."

"That's because they associated nostalgia with this weather," Sophie replied bluntly. "The mind trains itself to respond automatically with certain feelings in certain situations. This can actually be controlled, you know? For example, if you blast extremely annoying music loud enough and long enough, the enemy may associate that with agonizing frustration and sleepless nights and repetitive headaches, so later when he's being interrogated—"

She abruptly stopped when she caught the look on the bartender's face.

"Th-this is great beer!" Sophie backpedaled with a wide, frantic grin. "What's in this?"

He stared. "…Alcohol."

"Ah-ha. That was my first guess…" she mumbled into her glass.

She couldn't remember the last time she interacted with a civilian. Science jargon? Perfect. Military slang? Decent. Normal human speak? Sophie still wasn't getting it, no matter how many times Hippo had tried teaching her.

"Where are you from, Mam'zelle? Grand Line? Or the Four Blues?" the bartender asked, looking more amused than disturbed by her behavior.

Sophie wiped her mouth exactly two times with a napkin. "Me? I'm… well…" She folded the napkin in half, thinking. "…I'm nobody. Just passing through."

"Ah, the ol' cliché," the bartender chuckled, throwing a sideways glance at Sophie's hands. At least he wasn't saying anything about it. "C'mon. This place don't judge. You sailed here, right? Weell… y' don't look like a sailor." He rubbed his chin, squinting at Sophie. "Hold on, 'm good at these. A merchant, maybe? Nah, somethin' tells me I'm wrong. A pirate?"

"Very, very wrong," she muttered around her glass.

"Probably not," the bartender agreed, throwing a dishrag over his shoulder. "You don't look like one of 'em Heart Pirates, anyway."

Sophie stared into her cup. Trafalgar Law stared back… his lazy smirk and cold, unfeeling eyes…

"You've met them?"

"Non. They dropped anchor on the western shore and this here's the southern tip o' the island. Haven't caused no ruckus yet. The Marine base on the other hand…" He sighed. "Completely destroyed the whole place. Most marines got out in time, though when I say 'most'…" He shook his head and resumed filling two mugs.

She swirled the beer around in her glass. "There was a battle, right? Four days ago? The Marines were trying to intercept the pirates."

"Two battleships were sunk. Sent just 'bout the whole town runnin'. We can only pray an' wait for 'em t' leave soon, when their Log Pose sets. Three more days t' go."

By golly, that was just teeeerrific. She fished the cigarette carton from her pockets and examined the twenty fresh new cigarettes. Feeling slightly more heartened, Sophie lit one up and took a hefty inhale. All the stress began to ease from her muscles. She blew rings of smoke out and watched them fade up somewhere between the bottles of cognac and champagne. Ah, there it was. Control. Her fingers stopped trembling.

The bartender passed the mugs to the two customers sitting at the other end of the bar. They were both wearing hats that obscured their faces, and had some sort of white jumpsuit thing tied around their waists, baring taut, sweaty muscle.

Hm.

Taking another deep puff, Sophie leaned over and asked, "Do you know if there's a Den Den Mushi here that can contact other Marine bases?"

"Eh, we already tried that. Even if it did get through, most o' the marines in the vicinity have all been sent to Vira…" He rubbed his chin. "Though I hear Gator Town's still tryin' to connect t' the line."

"Gator Town?"

"Yes'm. You get Pantano Town here, a few other villages scattered between the swamplands, and Gator Town on the other end o' the island. Thirty miles away."

A quick glance at the clock told her it was one in the afternoon. "Think I can make it there before nightfall?" she inquired while downing the last of her beer.

"Walkin'? Not a Y chromosome's chance in Amazon Lily. We got carriages. Extremely expensive, but if ya need t' get there fast…"

She pressed the cigarette to her lips. "Extremely expensive is out of my price range." Sophie exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Now I see why I shouldn't have splurged on these Criminal clothes."

The bartender blinked. "You went to Ricky Rick's Boutique? Wow, you're probably the first tourist who fell for his knockoffs."

Sophie's eye twitched. "…Knockoffs? What are you—no way—" Horrified, she tugged on the collar of her shirt. "I spent twenty thousand beli on fake Criminal? Isn't that illegal? Can't I have that pineapple arrested—or—or at least get a refund!?"

He snorted. "Sure, it's illegal, 'cept no one usually falls for it. Ricky Rick rips off anyone who walks into his store. Look sharp next time; your money's your own responsibility."

Sophie's head met the counter again. Life was so much easier back in G-13.

"I don't care anymore," she sobbed, clutching her head. "I just want to get to Gator Town! Why does the universe hate meee?"

"What's the hurry? You should relax here for the night an' get a good start tomorrow."

For a millisecond, Sophie dwelled on the question. She could say she was recently captured and experimented on by the very same crew of pirates that was currently residing on that very island… she could tell him that she had been a combat medic in a vicious civil war and the last refugee ship left her stranded in the middle of the Grand Line… she could divulge that she'd never been out in the seas—never even been outside her home—and felt exhausted, and scared, and alone.

All of those were reasonable, truthful choices. And all of those had the high percentage of ending with a panic attack. And wouldn't that be the awkward cherry on top of the awkward cake in the form of an awkward turtle. So she really had no choice…

"See, I have a stalker." Sophie nodded sagely. "He's been following me for two islands already. Really scary guy—all tattoo-y and earring-y and murderous tendencies-y. I'm in super big trouble because of him."

…but to lie her awkward pants off.

"Damn," the bartender said.

Sophie nodded, sniffing for added effect. "He even… he even tried to take advantage of me." Which was pretty true. "And he has a foot fetish! He is a mean, twisted, psychotic, evil little foot-fetished fruitcake!" Sophie clawed at the counter, hissing.

The bar was silent. The bartender was actually staring at her, open-mouthed.

She pushed the beer aside and said in a very tiny voice, "I have a lot of feelings."

"Uh…" The bartender looked around for help, and when none came, he sighed and leaned in closer, "I can lend you a bike if ya really need it."

Baby kittens around the world mewled in joy. Sophie clapped her hands, beaming. "That would be fantastacious!"

"C'mon, then," he motioned, and hopped over the counter.

Wiping the sweat from her thighs, Sophie slid off the stool and followed him out into the damp heat of Pantano Town. The air was muggy and hot, something Sophie was horribly unused to. G-13's laboratories had one set temperature: cold. Vira alternated between unexpected thunderstorms and balmy breezes with a chance of violent gunfire. She slicked her hair away from her neck—all the things she'd thrown her money away for, Sophie thought ruefully, and she'd left out the hair tie.

"Dear ol' Romarin," the bartender said with an odd tone of fondness. "Ain't she a beauty?"

A grimy red bike was propped up on the side of the bar. The leather on the seat was flaking away and mud was caked on the tires. Flies hummed over it. The chains looked like they were about to fall off at any given moment.

"A bit rundown, but she should carry you." He patted the handlebars. "Why don't y' try her out?"

Sophie pulled out a few napkins she had nabbed from the bar and dubiously wiped down the bicycle seat. "Are you sure it can last for thirty miles?"

"I guarantee it! She's an old friend's bike. He cared for her real well, named her after his dead mother-in-law…" He smiled, basking in the nostalgia. "Well, I've actually been meaning t' throw her away, but never really found the time, y'know? Though I'm sure he'd be okay with you takin' care of her."

"Tell him thanks from me," Sophie said sincerely.

"I would, but he's dead, too."

Sophie's smile froze. "That sucks… Wait, no, I mean…" At times like this, Sophie had fully realized the practicality of Hippo's etiquette lectures. Sure, she still didn't understand the sentiment behind it, but… "I mean, I'm sorry. Um. For your loss."

To her surprise, he laughed and waved it off. "Nah, don't be. It was a long time ago."

That was… new. Didn't it typically involve a bunch of neurotransmitters affecting tear ducts, heightened emotions due to stress, and lots of H20 and NaCl? Then again, Sophie only watched Hippo say those words to the families of the marines who had recently died. Hm. The outside world was interesting.

"Well, if you say so!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "I don't know how to repay you for this, but…" Sophie rummaged through her pockets and tossed him a small wad of beli. "Erm… for the drink and a serious IOU?"

He shrugged and accepted. "Jus' keep headin' north an' you'll hit Gator Town. The path don't stray. If y' get there in one piece, look for Nellie's place. Her rent's cheap an' the food's t' die for."

"I will." She wiped her sweaty hand on her shirt and then held it out. "Strangways Sophie."

His large hand encompassed hers and he grinned handsomely. "Sid."

Sophie swung her legs over the bicycle and started to pedal. It was a little shaky; she hadn't ridden one since she was a kid. It brought back memories. The first time she ever blew up a bike… the first time she poured corrosive acid over a bike… the first time she set a bike on fire and pushed it into a pit of explosive gas…

A flock of pelicans soared across the grey sky as Sophie biked across town. Raccoons flicked in and out of the of the shadow of cypress trees. Pantano Town smelled like the musky scent of nature, thick and heavy. Mosquitoes fluttered between rows of moss-lined buildings. The wooden houses whooshed by her, all lined up in neat little rows. They were real houses, like the pictures in her textbook. Some even had the generic flower curtai—

—flickered into a smoking wreckage of ash and timber. A soldier was slumped against the broken door, head lolled to the side—

A bout of nausea hit her in the gut. Sophie sagged against the handlebars, winded and trying to swallow down the urge to vomit. The temperature seemed to drop about fifty degrees. Cold sweat bloomed across her upper lip and her chest ached so much it felt like a knife was sliding between her ribs—

Like window shutters sliding in place, her expression stilled and relaxed. She held the cigarette between her thumb and two fingers, and inhaled deeply. The smoke curled in her lungs, whispering promises of sweet relief that she slowly breathed out through her nose.

Her eyes flickered open. On the outskirts of Pantano Town was just a single dirt path outlined by white-bark trees, like grave markers.

A lonely sign was dug into the dirt, a clumsily painted arrow pointing north. Thirty miles to Gator Town.

So Sophie started pedaling.

—

"What do you mean, it's impossible to sail east?"

Sid glanced up from the beer mug he was wiping. "Y' haven't heard?"

Sunglasses glanced at his companion, and both shook their heads. "We recently arrived here with the Log Pose, so…"

"Travelers, eh? Listen up. You'd do well t' buy yourself an Eternal Pose. They might cost you some eighty thousand beli, but it's worth it. Any other place is better than the island lurkin' beyond the eastern horizon."

"Why's that?" the one in the penguin hat asked.

"Khanwari," Sid replied with an ill-disguised shudder. "The tyrant that ruled Cat's Eye Island for the last twenty years. Ever since then, not a single ship—merchant, pirate, Marine, or otherwise—has passed through its gates."

Sunglasses shrugged. "Alright. So it's just another World Government kingdom. Maybe if we ask nicely…"

"Don't underestimate him," Sid said sharply. "Twenty years ago, he burned down half this island. All of it, ashes. I was with the few who were lucky enough t' escape. Still remember the white ash falling for months an' the mass burial for the bodies no one could recognize."

Penguin Hat and Sunglasses were both staring at him, their mouths open. Sid grinned at the attention, but his smile was bitter.

"That's rough," Sunglasses said finally.

Penguin Hat looked contemplative. "But what was his motive?"

"He wanted the throne. Some say the Cat's Eye and Crawfish are bonded by blood. Sister islands, tradin' partners, comrades in war. Khanwari knew the young king would wage battle, once he saw what happened t' Crawfish. An' that king, that stupid king, danced right into his palm. The entire royal family was disposed. A fortnight later, Khanwari built a massive stone wall around the entire island an' set up watchtowers every square mile. Only a handful of people managed to escape… but not enough, not nearly enough. Hell, I know a girl who's been waiting twenty years for her parents t' come back."

They looked surprised. "The Marines didn't do anything to stop it?"

He squeezed the water out of the dishrag. "Back then, Cat's Eye an' Crawfish weren't a part of the World Government. The king offered 'em a fat purse an' his allegiance, an' those screwed-up bastards accepted."

"An impenetrable, unassailable fortress led by a crazy king…" Penguin Hat mused, and then cracked a grin. "Sounds interesting."

Sid stared at him—and burst out laughing. "You sure meet some crazy people on the Grand Line!" he chuckled, throwing the dishrag over his shoulder. "Where ya stayin' at?"

"Our submarine," Sunglasses replied easily. "At the western shore."

He didn't say it loudly, but the whole bar quieted. All traces of laughter disappeared from Sid's face. "You two are pirates?"

Penguin Hat grinned. "Bingo."

The two of them gulped down the last of their beer, as if they were oblivious to all the occupants of the bar who were slowly standing up and drawing their weapons. Sid clenched the flintlock hidden underneath the counter, mouth twisting in anger.

Sunglasses slammed his mug down on the counter and exhaled with gusto. "This is some good beer! You think we can take some back to our—"

"Get out," Sid snapped, pointing the gun right at them. "I have the right t' refuse service t' anyone I don't like. Leave!"

Wiping his mouth, Sunglasses tilted his head at Sid. "What, you got something against pirates?"

"Not especially," he growled. "But I do have something against the salauds who burned down the Marine base."

"That sounded pretty brazen." Penguin Hat paused. "You ever think about becoming a pirate?"

"I SAID GET OUTTA HERE!"

Penguin Hat held his hands up. "Alright, we'll leave quietly. Don't want a fight. Here's the money for the drinks. Oh—but before we leave…" He nodded at Sid. "That blonde girl you were talking to outside… well, this is just an off-chance guess, but…" He scratched his chin. "What did she say her name was?"

—

"Strangways Sophie! You still haven't found her yet?"

The marine flinched, sweating buckets. "Y-Yes, that girl! We're deploying marines to Drum Island, Longben's Skull, and Crawfish Island… all the islands closest to Vira… a-as soon as possible."

The silhouette against the window turned around. Yellow epaulettes made his large shoulders even more pronounced, a thick, black mustachio fell just beneath a square jaw, and scars overlapped on his forehead. He uncrossed his arms and laid his hands flat on the desk. His eyes were so pale they might've been glass.

"As soon as possible?" he repeated dangerously.

"Lay off, Lettidore," Hippo sighed, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. "The whole base is understaffed. There aren't enough marines able to be shipped out. Over three-quarters are still recuperating from the war." He balanced on the back legs of his chair, picking his nose.

He scowled. "Why are you in this meeting anyway?"

"It's because I'm worried about my precious daughter, you idiot!" Hippo slammed his feet against the desk for added effect. "Idiot! Idiot!"

The marine looked scandalized. Lettidore merely raised an eyebrow and snapped, "Stop acting so childish." He glared at the marine. "That will be all."

He saluted and left quickly.

Hippo chewed on the hem of doctor's coat sleeve. "Ahh, my poor little scientist! Is she afraid? Is she hurt? Why are youuu, Sophwieee?" He tore off his glasses and scrubbed at his eyes. "I haven't had more than fifteen hours of sleep since I left Vira! I had to perform twenty operations in five days, and there are still more waiting! I can't work like this, damn it!"

"I should've never let Sophie leave," Lettidore admitted. "A chemist of her stature as a combat medic? And for Vira's situation to turn out the way it did… there's no helping it if she's dead. If she's still alive, then we might have a problem." He picked up the receiver of a Den Den Mushi. "This is the Vice Admiral. Get me CP5.""

"Understood. Please standby as we connect the call."

The chair slammed onto the floor. "Hey! Don't you think that's a little drastic?"

"Given the circumstances, I have to be. As for the damned captain of that refugee vessel… he'll be demoted to Warrant Officer. Leaving without all the passengers," he spat in contempt. "That display of cowardice is an embarrassment to the Marines."

Hippo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn it, Lettidore, you don't have to—"

"What's going on, Lettidore?" the Den Den Mushi asked, the tone familiar to the two men. "Is Hippo there?"

Hippo grunted.

"I hope you boys have something fun in mind; HQ says I need a break from work. What the fuck do those dipshits know, anyway? Just because I haven't had any sleep in four days, fucking idiots..."

"It's Sophie."

There was a noise of irritation at the other end. "Amateur hour. What else?"

"This is important to G-13. She must be found and brought back here alive. If she's already dead, her corpse will be suitable." A pause. "It'll be a fast search-and-retrieve. No skin off your back."

"If the girl's been taken captive?"

"I'll take responsibility for your actions."

"…And she resists?"

"I ordered you to bring her back alive, not unharmed," he replied and hung up.

Hippo stood up. "You cannot be serious."

"I'd go look for her myself if G-13 wasn't in such disorder." The Vice Admiral shot him a reproving look. "You should also consider the full extent of these circumstances. If escaping was intentional on her part—if she's been tortured, if she reveals anything that compromises G-13, she'll put the entire Government in danger. Sophie is young and impressionable, and the world is dangerous… especially to a child who's only ever seen it from inside her little tower."

"And that child went through a war," he said harshly. "I seem to remember two boys doing the exact same thing at her age." Hippo sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Besides, you know as well as I do Sophie doesn't care about anything besides her chemistry."

"Then why did she ask to join the war?"

He had no answer.

"How can you be so sure she won't be led astray by her own naivety... by a dangerous person... or a dangerous idea?"

"She won't be."

"And how do you know?" Again, there was no answer. "I learned from my mistakes in Vira. Dragon completely blindsided us, and now we've all but lost the country." Vice Admiral Lettidore clenched his fists. "One lone variable is enough to upset the balance. We must find Sophie before that variable comes into play. I am not going to suffer another failure by losing the head scientist of my chemical warfare division."

—

The Heart pirates stood expectantly around their captain. A small, menacing grin played over Law's features.

"Set a course for Gator Town."

to be continued

trivia

lettidore: apparently in flower language, lettuce means cold-hearted. i just went with it!

sid: named after sydney carton from a tale of two cities.

sid guessing if sophie is a merchant: in the first few drafts, she actually was a merchant. nothing important, it was just to humor myself.

longben's skull: long ben is a nickname of the pirate henry every.

pantano town: marsh/bog in spanish.