vncnus Chapter 67: The Chief Agent's Operation!
Chapter 67: The Chief Agent's Operation!
Chapter 67: The Chief Agent's Operation!
At the same time, it was raining.
This desert casino city is relatively quiet during the day, but transforms into a city that never sleeps at night.
Meanwhile, deep beneath the walls of "Rain Banquet," the most luxurious casino in the city center, lies a secret room that is never open to outsiders.
The secret room was large and luxuriously decorated, but the color scheme was somber, with a deep red carpet, black sandalwood furniture, and desert-themed tapestries hanging on the walls, but the patterns were all twisted cacti and skulls.
The air was thick with the smell of cigars and a faint stench of blood—the latter coming from a few dying desert scorpions in a cage in the corner.
Crocodile sat in the center of the secret room on a large leather chair, the metal poison hook in his right hand gleaming coldly in the dim light, and a thick cigar between his left and right hands, the cigarette butt flickering in the shadows.
On the table in front of him sat a special Den Den Mushi. At that moment, the Den Den Mushi's mouth was opening and closing, playing a recording that had just been made.
"—He said he came to this island to subdue that man who is one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! Crocodile! That will be his first subordinate among the Seven Warlords—"
Then came Norton's clear and arrogant declaration: "—I will recruit the Seven Warlords of the Sea and become the king who ranks above them!"
The playback ended, and the Den Den Mushi closed its eyes.
The sealed room fell into a deathly silence.
Crocodile's cigar, held between his left and right hands, remained suspended in mid-air, a long trail of ash accumulated.
His face was obscured by the shadows, but the metal poison hook trembled slightly.
"Crack."
The cigar was stubbed out hard in the solid gold ashtray, sparks flying everywhere.
Crocodile raised his head, his eyes burning with cold fury: "That's incredibly disrespectful! That bastard!"
A soft laugh came from the shadows in the corner of the secret room.
Nicole Robin emerged from the shadows of the bookshelf. She wore a deep purple dress, her black hair flowing over her shoulders, and carried a heavy ancient book in her hand. Her usual enigmatic smile graced her face.
"What an interesting man."
Crocodile whirled around, his poisonous hook pointing at her: "You find this amusing?"
"Of course." Robin calmly walked to the table, put down the book, and said, "Anyone who dares to openly declare that they want to recruit the Seven Warlords of the Sea is either a complete madman or truly has the strength and ambition."
"Judging from his ability to defeat both Hero Garp and Admiral Kizaru, it's probably the latter."
Crocodile stared at her for a few seconds, then leaned back in his chair. He took another cigar from his cigar box, cut off the end, and lit it. He took a deep drag and exhaled a thick smoke ring.
"Kizaru may have underestimated his opponent," Crocodile said slowly. "Logia-type Devil Fruit users will indeed suffer if they are countered by Seastone."
Norton possessed a Seastone weapon, but it had already been destroyed by Kizaru.
"But seizing the opportunity to use Seastone weapons requires considerable strength," Robin said. "Moreover, according to the Ominous Duo's observations, although his subordinates don't have high bounties, they all seem to be quite formidable."
Crocodile was silent for a few seconds. The red glow of the cigarette butt flickered on his face.
"Summon all chief agents," Crocodile finally spoke, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth.
"I'm going to teach that arrogant bastard a lesson!"
Robin closed the book, his smile unchanged: "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You go and keep an eye on them," Crocodile said. "I need to know everything about Norton's gang, especially the whereabouts and habits of that silver-haired guy himself."
"Understood." Robin turned and walked towards the hidden door on the other side of the secret room. He paused at the doorway, then turned back and said, "Boss, do I need to remind you? Norton's group has nearly four thousand people and twenty-seven ships. And the agents we can deploy—"
"Quality trumps quantity," Crocodile interrupted her, sneering. "Each of my chief agents is capable of taking on a hundred. And..."
"9
"This is the desert, my home turf!"
The hidden door closed softly, and Robin's figure disappeared.
Crocodile sat alone in the secret room and took another puff of his cigar.
"To recruit the Seven Warlords of the Sea? To become the king above kings? Arrogant brat—I'll show you that the desert will devour all arrogance." He raised the metal poison hook, looking at its sharp tip, and muttered to himself.
That night, deep in the desert in the heart of Alabasta.
It's fifty kilometers from the nearest oasis, and there's nothing but sand dunes and rocks.
But in the leeward side between the two huge sand dunes, there is a solitary building—a coffee shop.
The café's sign is made of dried wood with a black spider painted on it, and the words "Spider Café" are written in Alabasta next to it.
The building itself is made of stone and looks sturdy, but the exterior walls are mottled and worn from wind and sand erosion. Dim yellow light shines from the windows, standing out starkly against this desolate landscape.
There were no other customers in the shop; only one woman was wiping glasses behind the bar.
The woman appeared to be in her thirties, with long, dark brown hair tied in a ponytail at the back of her head, and wearing a black and white waitress uniform. She wiped the glasses with practiced ease, but her eyes were sharp, occasionally glancing towards the dark desert outside the window.
Doorbell rang.
Two figures pushed open the heavy wooden door and walked in, bringing with them a gust of dust and hot air.
The man in front was so tall he almost touched the door frame, carrying a thick metal baseball bat, his movements slow and heavy.
The one following behind was as short as a mole, hopping in.
Mr. 4 walked to the bar, leaned his baseball bat against the side, rubbed his lower back, and said in a low, slow voice, "This long journey is really tiring!"
My back hurts so much!
Miss Christmas jumped onto the high stool, her short legs dangling in the air, and exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, "I'm exhausted! Merry Christmas! Hello!"
Paula put down her glass and smiled at them. There were fine lines at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, but she exuded an air of competence.
"Hey hey hey, long time no see! Miss Christmas, Mr. 4—how are you? The shop's empty today. What would you like to drink?"
Mr. 4 slowly climbed onto the bar stool next to him, rubbing his back: "Not bad. You guys are doing well—hurry up and bring it out!"
Paula put down the cloth she was wiping the glasses with. "I'm so sorry. You're right."
She turned and walked towards the small kitchen at the back to prepare tea. The shop fell silent, with only the howling wind outside the window.
Just then, the old-fashioned gramophone next to the bar suddenly started on its own.
The needle fell, the record spun, and a strangely melody blared from the speakers. The lyrics were indistinct, and the tune was distorted: "What I'm playing now is—a solo—how could this be—the transvestite path—the strongest! The strongest!"
Mr. 4 frowned and pointed at the gramophone: "Wow! How come your shop has become like a music player—playing all sorts of weird songs!"
Miss Christmas covered her ears and shrieked, "Where's that weird song?!"
Before the words had even finished—
"Boom!"
The center of the ceiling suddenly cracked!
Wood chips and dust fell like a waterfall as a figure descended from the sky, accompanied by exaggerated singing and dancing!
The person spun three and a half times in the air, landing gracefully in a "swan spreading its wings in the wind" pose, standing on one leg with arms outstretched.
It's Mr. 2 Bon Clay. He's wearing a bright pink ballet tutu, heavy makeup, exaggeratedly long false eyelashes, and a golden wig that sparkles under the lights.
After landing, she spun around again, her skirt billowing, before regaining her balance.
"Hey! But transvestites are both men and women—the way of the transvestite—the strongest!"
Mr. 2 waved his gloved hand at Paula, his pinky finger slightly raised, and asked, "Paula, how's business?"
Then, turning to Mr. 4 and Miss, wishing them a Merry Christmas, he winked and said, "How are you all? How are you all!"
Paula burst out of the kitchen, teapot in hand, her mouth agape as she stared at the hole in the ceiling, then at Mr. 2: "You—you guys—what happened? How did you manage to fly into the shop?"
Mr. 2, with a delicate gesture of his pinky finger raised, swayed his hips as he walked to the bar and sat down on a high stool: "I'm a ladyboy! I'd like to order—octopus ice cream!"
Miss Christmas immediately jumped up, barely reaching Mr. 2's shoulder height while standing on the stool. She shrieked, "Are you kidding me! It's Icefish!"
Then, turning to Mr. 4 as if seeking support, he said, "Ah, that's common sense! Are you an idiot?"
Mr. 2 leaned close to Miss Merry Christmas, their noses almost touching.
Mr. 2 said provocatively, "Am I stupid? I should be able to say, 'Polani—I haven't met her yet, I'm so looking forward to it!' I heard everyone's afraid of her, and I heard Mr. 1's moves—so my back pain is really something! Hahahaha!"
His laughter was exaggerated and shrill. Miss Christmas was so angry that her face turned red, and she pulled out a strange pair of leather gloves from her pocket—the gloves had sharp metal claws at the front, like the claws of a mole.
"Do you want to fight, you transvestite!"
Mr.2 also adopted the starting stance of a transvestite boxing style, raising one leg and stretching out one hand: "Oh, you want to spar with me? Come on, come on."
The air between the two crackled, thick with murderous intent.
Paula tried to dissuade her, but it was too late.
Just then, "BOOM!!!"
The entire west wall of the café suddenly cracked open! It wasn't the door, but the solid stone wall!
Bricks and stones shot inward like cannonballs, and smoke and dust instantly filled half of the storefront.
A tall, composed figure walked out of the hole, his footsteps crunching on the gravel, each step causing the floor to tremble slightly.
Mr. 2 froze upon seeing the person approaching, cold sweat beading on his forehead: "No—it's him, it's him—"
Paula screamed in terror, "Stop! Mr. 2! They're Baroque Works (Senior Agent) Mr. 1!"
But Mr. 2's attacks were already out of control.
Driven by a combination of fear and inertia, he lunged at the figure that had broken through the wall, his ballet shoes screeching on the floor: "Transvestite Fist Technique—Swan Soaring in the Wind! Hah!"
The kick was aimed straight at the person's face, with enough speed and power to shatter the rocks.
Mr. 1—Daz Bonis—didn't even change his expression.
He didn't even dodge; he simply raised his right arm. Just as the kick was about to strike, his right arm suddenly deformed from his wrist to his elbow, the skin turning a cold, metallic gray, the edges sharp as knives.
"Clang!"
The ballet shoes struck the razor-sharp arm with a crisp metallic clang.
Mr. 2 felt as if he had kicked steel; a sharp pain shot through his toes, and the recoil sent him flying backward, only stopping when he crashed into the bar. Mr. 1 withdrew his arm, and the deformed part returned to normal human limbs.
Paula rushed between the two, spreading her arms to block them. She turned to Mr. 1, her voice urgent, "Stop fighting! Mr. 1!"
Mr. 1 stared at her expressionlessly. A few seconds later, he took a sealed manila envelope from his pocket and handed it to Paula.
Paula took the envelope, her fingers trembling slightly. She tore open the wax seal, pulled out the letter, and read it by the light of the bar counter.
Paula's expression grew increasingly serious as she read. After finishing the last line, she laid the letter out on the bar.
Mr. 4 slowly approached, Miss Merry Christmas jumped onto his shoulder, and Mr. 2, rubbing his foot, limped over as well. Everyone looked at the letter.
The order was simple and direct: deal with Norton's gang's executives who had landed on the island.
Below was a stack of photocopies of the wanted posters, each bearing a photograph and a sum of money. Paula laid them out one by one:
Redleg Zeff, bounty 3000 million Berries!
"Hundred Plans" Kro, bounty 2000 million Berries!
Bucky the Joker, with a bounty of 2000 million Berries!
Roronoa Zoro, the "Three-Sword Style" master, has a bounty of 1900 million Berries!
"Ninja" Sanosuke, bounty 1800 million Berries!
"Demon" Gin, bounty 1500 million Berries!
"Iron Wall" Palu, bounty 1200 million Berries!
Sanji, nicknamed "Black Leg," has a bounty of 1000 million Berries!
"Hypnotist" Zango, bounty of 1000 million Berries!
Sam and Buzz, the "Catmen Brothers," have a bounty of 990 million Berries!
"Shrimp Cannon" Paddy, bounty 800 million Berries!
Nami, the Cat Burglar, has a bounty of 800 million Berries!
"Beast Tamer" Mochi, bounty 500 million Berries!
Kabaji the Acrobat, bounty 500 million Berries!
Fourteen bounty posters covered the bar counter.
"The objective is clear," Mr.1 said, his voice still flat. "The president wants us to deal with these people and give Norton a warning."
Let them know whose territory Alabasta is.
Mr. 2 picked up Zoro's bounty poster and touched the face in the photo with his gloved fingers: "I like people with unique characteristics, like the three-sword style swordsman."
He picked up Sasuke's again, "A ninja? That's rare~"
Miss Christmas jumped up and snatched Bucky's wanted poster: "Red nose! Easy to spot! Leave it to me and Mr. 4!"
Mr. 4 nodded slowly: "Not bad."
Paula put away all the bounty posters, her expression serious: "The boss's idea is to take them down one by one. Norton's gang members are currently scattered throughout the port, this is the best opportunity. Once they regroup, they'll be difficult to deal with."
"When are we leaving?" Miss Christmas asked impatiently.
"Now." Mr. 1 turned and walked towards the hole in the wall he had smashed through. Outside was the pitch-black desert. "The president needs to see results as soon as possible."
Paula took off her apron, pulled out a uniquely shaped double-edged dagger from under the bar, and tucked it into the leather sheath behind her waist.
She locked the coffee shop door—though the wall was broken—and followed the others out.
Outside the shop, the desert night wind was icy cold, a stark contrast to the daytime heat. Under the moonlight, the sand dunes resembled frozen giant waves, stretching to the horizon.
And amidst the sand, there stood a gigantic creature.
It was a tortoise, but it was as big as a small mountain. Its shell had been modified into the shape of a banana crocodile, painted in yellow and green, with metal horns on its head, and a seat and guardrail fixed to its back.
This is the Baroque Studio's specially made water transport vehicle—Pangji.
The five people climbed onto the seats on Fatty's back. Mr. 1 sat at the front, his hands on the control lever.
"Target: Rapeseed Flower Port." He pulled the control lever.
Fatty let out a low growl and began to move its limbs. It crawled at an astonishing speed, leaving a deep trail in the desert as it sped off towards the northeast.
In the night sky, a crescent moon coldly illuminated the desert.
Meanwhile, fifty kilometers away in Rapeseed Flower Harbor, the Norton Pirates' officers were completely unaware of the impending hunt.
Only when Clooney was sorting through intelligence on the ship did he notice some unusual activity in the port—several unfamiliar faces were observing the White Pearl from the shadows, and the group had changed three times.
He adjusted his glasses, walked to the ship's railing, and looked southwest towards the rain-soaked land. The desert night was cold, and his breath turned into white mist.
"Is it coming soon?" Chloe murmured to herself, her hand resting on the cat's paw at her waist.
In the port area, Zeff had just finalized the price of flour with the vendors and was directing the cooks to move the goods.
Sanosuke finished a patrol and told the pirates to return to their ship to rest.
El and the Avenki warriors have returned to the ship and are discussing what they saw and heard today.
Chopper is organizing the newly purchased medicinal herbs in the medical room.
The peaceful night is being torn apart by a sandstorm approaching from the depths of the desert.