deathsdoctor | Entries tagged with for my nakama

[It finally came.

As they knew both it would. Had felt it coming in the wind for weeks.

They had been home together. And then something in the air turned bad, brushed against his senses, and he paused, going grey in the face. Put down the mug he was drying. And turned.

To see Bepo, looking just as unsettled. And suddenly… oh god… suddenly… Law felt himself in motion. Get to his nakama. Grab him. Keep him here. No. NOT YET.

NO! DON’T TAKE HIS NAKAMA FROM HIM!

“Captain! I’m sorry!”

And then… as his fingers touch fur. And feel the warmth of his closest nakama.

Then…

Gone.

Snatched away as he was reaching out.

And then the world went black and the next thing Trafalgar Law knew was the sensation of his knees crashing to hit floor. Everything was cold.

He doesn’t know how long he stayed there like that. Perhaps hours. Probably hours. And then he gets to his feet and begins a slow, methodical sweep of the house. Bepo’s presence has been wiped clean. Bed nest – gone. Clothes – gone. Bits of fur that always collected in the shower – gone.

Drink. He needs a -

There’s Romulan Ale in the liquor cabinet.

When he finally addresses the network, there’s no life left in his voice. It might as well be a dead man speaking. Dead and numbed and slightly slurred for those sharp enough to hear:]

For those who knew him, Bepo has been returned home.

[And he shuts the journal. He’ll reply later. He does not want to hear ‘I’m sorry’ right now.

‘I’m sorry’ will haunt him the rest of his days here.]

[Good evening, Luceti. Good evening, Community Housing Unit Two.

How is your night going? Are you with loved ones or friends tonight? Having dinner? Working? Perhaps, just perhaps, you’re contemplating turning in early for the night. It’s peaceful, as evenings go, after all. The stars are bright, the winds soft and perfumed with the scents of the nearby forests.

And over the journal, there it is…

… the sound of glass breaking. A book falling and thudding open… a snarl.

Here we go, that same old song and dance.]

Wha--- [ka-chink] WATCH OUT, BEPO!

[It happens with brutal speed and the journal window is obscured in blinding blue flaring light and shouts and screams and panic are drowned out in the sound of crashing and the ever rising roar of destruction and tremors that crescendos with an explosion. An explosion that tears out the exterior walls of Apartment 40 and most of the roof above it upwards and outwards in a cloud of concrete and twisted metal and other debris to fall like rain below.

Michael Bay would be proud.

And then a soft voice, horrified:]

Bepo…

[The voice changes then, becomes cold and unyielding as something looms into view. It is limned with blue fire and heavily bleeding, and it wields a sword.]

… listen up and listen well, you and your masters eavesdropping, because I’m going to say this only once. No one fucks with a man’s nakama and should expect to live. You want me?

[Death beckons.]

GET OVER HERE.

[And everything is drowned out in light and fury and rips outward from the apartment, ripping and slashing through the walls to the rest of floor eight and through the floor downwards to leave gaping rifts and wreckage in its path all the way to the sixth, and the roar only rises and the building shakes again.

Then it stops.

Eerie silence reigns.]

B-bepo? [COUGH. HACK. The sounds of someone dragging themselves across the floor.] … still alive. [The voice is wavering, relieved, before steeling.] Still alive.

[Bloody tattooed fingers pull the book closer, and something drips on the pages, and the man makes another wet, hacking sound.]

That can’t be…

… all of them…

[ And through that crimson veil, NOW you see it, in amidst all the wreckage and blood splattered everywhere, the remains of droids. The undefeated droids. Now empty eyed and shattered and reduced to no more than useless pieces. They don’t even twitch… just spark. Impossible, isn’t it? But long moments pass and yet…

No more come.

Look. The impossible is impossible no more.]

( OOC information be here. )

[The apartment is stuffy today, he doesn’t have anything requiring his attention anywhere else, except for ingredients for pemmican cakes, and it is quiet. So, so quiet. Two months in this hellhole is already approaching and it is hard to be patient and wait for an opportunity for freedom. Because there is always a chance. Even after years and years.

(He always told his idiots to shut up when it carried on too far, and now all he wants is the sounds of their voices echoing off armoured hull plates. He had such a noisy boat, and though the hunt for One Piece was hard, they had been together and they had been happy often more than not.)

The memories of that blurred out weekend still remain tauntingly out of reach… but now in his heart of hearts he knows what could be the only thing that could cause that kind of ache.

Perhaps Monkey D. Luffy, you were right. You never said anything at the time, but he still felt your disagreement. But still… he can’t wish them here to this.

He can only resolve to grow stronger for their sake should they come anyway. Because it was not only the Golden Age of Pirates that had shattered at Marineford. No, he can hear the flatline for quite a few others as well. But it will take time for others to see that the patient is well and truly dead.

Because the balance of strength could shift at any moment in Luceti and take away what small advantages he has. He is a Supernova, and he is more powerful than most of his immediate concerns here (though badly outnumbered), but the experiment with that blasted musical showed him too well what could be. Or will.

It also showed him what he could be. Left with him the imprints of the general direction he needs to take. He might not take the same exact path to get there, but he would get there all the same.

And most simply because he is still Captain of the Heart Pirates. And should his nakama come, he needs to protect them. Because that is what a Captain does.]

[So out today at the grocery store, in and out of Community Building Two, or on the edge of the forest well away from most people training. The closest to solitude he can get or so he thinks. Feel free to prove him wrong.

Those who catch him in the forest may find him doing one of several things depending on when they catch him. Meditating, practicing his swordsmanship, and further practicing his skills with the filial magic Kipinn and Tsinku granted him. Seeing if he can contact Nala. He’s heard snatches of her around and felt her warmth and friendliness, but he’s never quite held on long enough to talk to her. She’s willing though. That he knows.

But it’s mostly the swordsmanship though. The experiment’s lessons have stuck. Focus on the things that can’t be taken away so easily and that come within, but don’t ignore the ones that can be gained.

The practice with Devil Fruit powers will come at another time. He has a new technique in mind. But he needs to find something suitable to test it on, and utter privacy, instead of close enough.

You can’t do everything in a day, you know.]

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Oft got without merit, oft lost without deserving

A reputation alone is a perilous thing to trust

Entries tagged with for my nakama

010 - Forward dated to the 15th [Voice]

008 [Accidental Video] PLAYER EVENT, forward dated to the evening of July 6th

003

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August 2014

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