"Stooop joooking around!" Mr. 2 yelled as he stood up in annoyance. "How long are they gonna make us wait!? They could at least give us some food in the meantime! I need horderves. Horderves!"
"Mr. 2, could you please sit down and wait quietly?" Miss Doublefinger asked in a tone of false politeness.
"No way! I'm gonna spin until they get here!"
"Quit yer yappin Two! Yer makin' my hips ache!" Miss Merry Christmas snapped. Mr. 4 started to say something as well, but it was slow to the point of being incoherent, so no one paid him any mind. Mr. 1 simply at the corner of the table, ignoring them all. But as Mr. 2 kept spinning, he grew increasingly annoyed.
"You'd best sit down before I disembowel you," he said quietly.
Mr. 2 turned toward him. "This guy again! Was that a threat!?"
"Didn't it sound like one? I thought I was pretty clear," Mr. 1 said in a bored tone.
"I think it's pretty clear that Mr. 0 will disembowel you both if he catches you screwing around in here," Miss Doublefinger commented. Surprisingly, this pacified both of them, and Mr. 2 sat down with a pout. About 10 seconds passed before…
"Stooop joooking around! Wheeere are they!?"
Mr. 1 was thinking about a more painful way to kill someone than disembowelment when his partner in crime spoke up again.
"You know, he has a point," she said. "I wouldn't know what to expect from Mr. 0, but Miss All Sunday is usually pretty punctual. On top of that, the Mr. 3 and Mr. 5 pair never showed up either. I can't help but feel that we're out of the loop."
"I'm afraid none of them will be able to make it," said a deep voice from the end of the table.
They all turned to the chair where the voice originated from in shock, none of them having noticed his arrival. Mr. 1's eyes narrowed. When did he…?
"A situation arose, and Miss All Sunday went to take care of it," the voice said. "Unfortunately, she won't make it back in time for the meeting. As for the other four...I'd advise you not to mention their names again. But no matter…the time is near."
He turned around in his chair, revealing his face. "For your final mission - Operation Utopia."
The officer agents stared in shock. Mr. 2's jaw dropped. "Cro-Crocodile!?"
"Oh good, so you know me," the man said smugly.
"Of course we know you, you're one of the Seven Warlords!" Miss Doublefinger exclaimed. "But why would you be…?"
"You're our boss?" Mr. 1 said, more in surprise than disappointment.
"So we were following the orders of a government sanctioned pirate all along!?" Mr. 2 exclaimed.
"Any objections?" Crocodile asked menacingly, immediately silencing them all.
"None here," Miss Doublefinger stated, sweating a bit. "I'm just confused as to why a Royal Warlord would go out of his way to form a criminal organization."
"What I desire isn't wealth or fame," Crocodile replied. "It's power." The officer agents listened intently. Seeing that he had their attention, Crocodile smirked. "Allow me to explain...the real reason behind the formation of Baroque Works. My true objective."
A few minutes later, after they all read over their mission orders, Mr. 2's brow furrowed. "So I have a separate mission, huh?"
"That's correct," Crocodile confirmed. "Miss All Sunday was acting as a spy and was able to uncover that Princess Vivi and the Strawhats have met with the leader of the rebellion. As aggravating as it is, he now knows of our plan, which complicates matters. That's where you come in, Mr. 2." The number agents, who were all high up enough to know about Mr. 2's ability, all widened their eyes in comprehension. "The rest of you," Crocodile continued, "are to come with me to Alubarna during the start of the operation, to deal with any pestilence. Until then, Mr. 2, your role is key."
"Alriiiight! You can count on me boss!"
"Very well then. You are to leave-" Mr. 2 was already rushing out the back door, doing spins the whole way. "-immediately," Crocodile finished, sweat dropping.
"It's about time," Miss Doublefinger muttered. Mr. 1 grunted in agreement.
"How unexpected. I never imagined that you of all people would be Mr. 0."
The number agents, Crocodile included, all turned to the source of the voice. While most of them were surprised to see Mr. 3, seeing as he hadn't shown up at Spider's Cafe, Crocodile's eyes just narrowed in anger. "Mr. 3. You have some nerve showing your face here." Mr. 3 said nothing under the heat of his glare as he continued walking forward, thinking about the events that had led him to come here alone.
5:00 PM, Spider's Cafe
"There it is. The rendezvous point," Mr. 3 said quietly as he observed who he assumed to be Mr. 1 calmly walk towards Spider's Cafe from a distance. He was concealed under a wax dome that was painted to be the color of a rock by Miss Goldenweek. Mr. 2 and the Mr. 4 pair had already arrived, so the only one missing was strangely Miss Doublefinger, who should have arrived with Mr. 1. Not that it mattered. "Ok, the plan is simple. Once they begin their journey to meet Mr. 0, we follow behind them discretely. With any luck, they'll lead us right to the boss."
"This plan is doomed to fail!" Miss Valentine hissed from behind him. The woman was in obvious distress along with Mr. 5.
"She's right!" her partner agent agreed. "There's no way we can be that stealthy as a group of four, and even if we somehow make it to the meeting place, the chances of Mr. 0 forgiving us are slim to none. At worst, we get killed by the Mr. 1 pair. At best, we get killed by the boss!" Mr. 5 paused to let that information sink in. Mr. 3 said nothing, so he continued. "Listen, it isn't too late to turn back now. Even if he sends Mr. 1 to track us down, our chances of survival will still be much higher than if we walk into his base of operations and offer ourselves to him on a silver platter!"
Miss Goldenweek was silent as she listened to the exchange. To be honest, she agreed with Mr. 5's logic. Mr. 3 was being unreasonable. Irrational, almost. He was always the best at calculating their chances for success on a mission. Out of all of them, he should have been the one to come to that conclusion first. That could only mean one thing.
"Survival isn't your only goal here, is it?" She suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine looked at her in confusion.
"What are you…" Mr. 5 started to ask, before his eyes widened under his sunglasses and he turned back to Mr. 3. "Are you serious?" he asked numbly. His superior didn't even acknowledge the question, or turn to face him for that matter.
"You want to finish the mission," Miss Valentine whispered in horror.
"So what if I do?" Mr. 3 finally answered in an annoyed tone.
"You've got to be shitting me!" Mr. 5 almost shouted. He was having trouble keeping his voice under control now. "We all saw how strong Strawhat was! He wiped the floor with us all! Even if by some miracle you got your mission clearance, there's no way you can kill that guy! You'd risk all of us dying for the sake of your pride!? Why would you risk your life for the damn mission!?"
"It's the only thing I would risk my life for!" Mr. 3 snapped, effectively shutting him up. He turned around and matched Mr. 5's glare. "I already told you guys that you don't have to come! You just followed me of your own accord. If all you're going to do is complain, then why are you still here? What am I, your babysitter? If you want to go, then go! You'll only slow me down anyway!"
Mr. 5 was silent for a moment. Then, he got up. "Let's go, Miss Valentine," he said. His partner agent didn't hesitate for more than a second before she rose to her feet as well. She shot Miss Goldenweek an apologetic glance. "We're slowing you down? It's ironic that you'd say that," Mr. 5 said. "I know you're not really that blind to the situation. The only one here in danger of being chased across the Grand Line…" he turned back to the wax man in apathy. "Is you, Mr. 3. Miss Valentine may be officer agents, but we're not high up enough to be a threat to the organization if left alive. Neither is Miss Goldenweek for that matter. Even if she's your partner, she's not privy to most of the secrets that you've been privileged with. The three of us aren't worth the resources and time it would take to track us down. As long as we're with you, on the other hand…" he trailed off as Mr. 3 narrowed his eyes.
"Do you know why we came with you?" Mr. 5 asked suddenly. "It's because Miss Goldenweek asked us to. We were simply respecting the wishes of our fellow agent and superior. One that we actually like, I might add."
This news finally evoked a reaction from Mr. 3, whose eyes widened as he turned to the girl in question. She averted her eyes from him, staring at the ground.
"No matter. We're leaving while we still have the chance," Mr. 5 concluded. "I suggest you do the same, Miss Goldenweek." With that, he and Miss Valentine left the dome and headed back the way they had come.
Mr. 3 gritted his teeth. "Go with them," he said to his partner agent. Her eyes widened. "He's right. You're not the one in danger," he continued. "This is my problem. So get the hell out of here." His voice was almost bitter. Miss Goldenweek didn't move.
"But I-"
"Treat that as an order." Her eyes glistened as she slowly got up and reluctantly left the dome as well. She turned back toward him on her way out.
"Good luck," she mumbled, before turning away and following behind the Mr. 5 pair.
Mr. 3 was jolted out of his thoughts by the voice of Miss Doublefinger. "How did you even find this place?" the officer agent asked. "We didn't even know where we were being taken until we arrived."
"I was tailing you all since Spider's Cafe. I hid in the back of the carriage," Mr. 3 explained, snapping back to reality.
"How clever of you," Crocodile said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now would you kindly explain why you're here and why I should refrain from gutting you?"
"I came to request a second chance on my mission," Mr. 3 stated.
"A second chance?" Crocodile repeated. "What do you take me for? I always assumed you were content with my zero tolerance policy for failure. Now that you've failed a mission for the first time, you expect to receive special treatment?"
"It isn't that," Mr. 3 said quickly. "It's just that considering the circumstances-"
"The circumstances aren't going to help you here," said Crocodile, his voice raising a little. "If you were going to come here groveling for forgiveness, then you shouldn't have given me that goddamned false mission report! If there's one thing I hate more than a failure, it's a coward!"
Mr. 3's eyes widened in shock and confusion. "F-false mission report? I'm afraid I don't know what you're-"
"Stop making a jackass of yourself," Crocodile spoke in a low tone, standing up from his chair. If the growing tension wasn't enough to make the rest of the number agents flinch, this single action was. Only Mr. 1 seemed to be keeping his cool through the encounter. "You reported that you killed the Strawhats and Princess Vivi in Little Garden! Because you lied to cover your own ass, the Strawhats were able to meet with the rebel army!" He began walking toward the stuttering wax man. "Now you have 10 seconds to enlighten me on why I should continue to humor your little request."
"Y-you must be mistaken! I didn't even use my transponder snail once on Little Garden! I didn't give any report!" Mr. 3 defended. Crocodile froze mid step, his eyes narrowed. He continued to stare at Mr. 3, as if searching his face for any sign of deception, an act that unnerved the wax man to no end. Eventually, his scowl lightened and then disappeared, replaced by a chilling smile.
Wait...what? Mr. 3 rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing right as Crocodile burst into laughter.
"Clever bastard," the sandman muttered. "I'll kill you, make no mistake." It barely registered in Mr. 3's mind that Crocodile wasn't even talking to him anymore before he was yanked off the ground by a disembodied hand. In any other situation, he would have had enough clarity of mind to notice the sand trailing behind the lone appendage. As it was, he was busy gasping for air as he was suspended by his neck.
A series of emotions flashed through Mr. 3's mind at that moment as he began to feel his throat drying up. They ranged from panic, to despair, to resigned acceptance, and quickly succeeded each other. But there was something else mixed in there as well.
Regret.
Not regret that he was dying. That he had expected to an extent. But his mind kept flashing back to that conversation outside Spider's Cafe. He had already known that his three fellow agents could have left without him. That's why he had kept subtly telling them to stop following him. But to find out that they all realized it as well. It meant that they hadn't just been following him out of a need for survival.
They had been following him out of loyalty. At the very least, his own partner had. No one had ever extended that type of courtesy to him before. And he had spit in their faces. No matter how much he kept denying it, that was bothering him. So it wasn't so much that his time had come that made him feel this regret.
It was that his time had come, and he was so purely, hopelessly alone in the world, just as he always had been.
"Shrivel up and dry," Crocodile said with a sinister grin on his face.
"Stop!" a new voice yelled. Crocodile turned his head in surprise to see none other than Miss Goldenweek standing in the doorway. His eyes narrowed and he quickly dispersed into sand to avoid the circle of paint that was was splattered at his feet a split second afterwards, dropping Mr. 3 unceremoniously to the floor. His body reformed a few feet away, and his countenance conveyed unspoken promises of murder.
It wasn't long before Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine came running into the room. "So, you all want to join him?" Crocodile asked menacingly.
"Leave some for me, Mr. 0. I was getting bored," Mr. 1 said as he walked towards the lower ranked agents, Miss Doublefinger following behind him.
Crocodile scowled. "Kill each other for all I care." He was in a fairly bad mood right now, and his venomous tone was indiscriminate.
Mr. 1 smirked. "I myself don't feel like dying."
Mr. 3 watched the scene unfold in shock. He had never really counted on the slim probability of receiving a second chance to kill the Strawhats. He was fully prepared to die here. He never expected that his fellow agents would come after him, especially after their previous fallout. So why? Why did they come back?
He didn't have much time to think about it as Mr. 1's arm morphed into a blade before his eyes.
Supa supa no mi! Mr. 3 immediately recognized in horror. He instinctively formed a wall of wax in between the blademan and his partner, sparing her the fate of being pierced between the eyes. Mr. 1 scoffed in annoyance. He turned toward Mr. 3 but was interrupted as Mr. 5 charged towards him. His explosive fist met Mr. 1 dead on, and the blademan was sent hurtling back by the force of the blow. He quickly righted himself, however. The lower officer agents were horrified to see that there wasn't a scratch on him. He almost looked bored.
"They're lining up to die," he commented as he walked back towards them. Miss Goldenweek started to wave her brush again but was interrupted by Miss Doublefinger. She was caught off guard by the woman's ability and yelled in pain as her hand was impaled by a spike that stemmed from the higher agent's finger. She dropped her brush to the floor.
"You have quite the troublesome ability, if I remember correctly," Miss Doublefinger drawled as she retracted the spike. She prepared to drive another spike through the girl's head, but was blocked by a candle wall. Another one simultaneously sprung up in between Mr. 1 and Mr. 5, who was also saved the fate of being impaled by the durable material. Mr. 1 grunted as his steel arms rebounded off the wax.
Miss Valentine made the next move, jumping high above Miss Doublefinger's speed and maximizing her weight. In a surprising show of reflexes, the spike woman leapt out of the way as her assailant came crashing down. "Neat trick," she commented as she walked up to the crater her adversary had made. "But it does leave you ever so vulnerable." In a split second, Miss Valentine's abdomen was pierced through by a spike that grew from Miss Doublefinger heel. She screamed in pain as her blood leaked onto the floor she was brutally pinned to.
Mr. 5 lost his head and ran at Miss Doublefinger, but Mr. 1 was right behind him. Mr. 3 was forced to divide his focus as he attempted to separate Miss Doublefinger from Miss Valentine and shield Mr. 5 from Mr. 1. While he succeeded in the former, Mr. 1 anticipated the latter and slashed across Mr. 5's back regardless. The bombman groaned and fell to the floor. After only a minute, Mr. 3 was the only one in shape to continue fighting. As Mr. 1 and Miss Doublefinger turned their attention to him, he quickly created more wax.
"Candle Lock!" The quickly hardening wad of wax was fairly easily dodged by both agents, who both ran in to gut him. Not knowing what else to do, Mr. 3 surrounded himself with wax. Bladed and spiked arms met the steel like substance head on, but barely left a scratch. While Miss Doublefinger was beyond annoyed, Mr. 1 gave wore a frightening grin.
"I think you overestimate the power of that wax of yours, Mr. 3," the blademan said. Suddenly, Mr. 3 could hear what sounded like a buzzsaw coming from the other side of the wall he made. Soon afterward, he felt an incredible force collide with it, and was horrified to realize that his wall was being shaved away. He was slowly losing ground to the spinning blades on Mr. 1's arms.
Miss Doublefinger smiled. "Well, while you're busy with that, I suppose I should finish off the rest of them," she said, as she walked toward the other three defecting agents. No longer in a shape to defend themselves, they could only watch as spikes grew out of all of her fingers.
"Wait." Mr. 1 and Miss Doublefinger both halted what they were doing as they heard the voice of Crocodile. They looked back towards him, and noted with some annoyance that Mr. 4 and Miss Merry Christmas were sitting back and enjoying the show. Crocodile grinned menacingly.
"I have a better idea."