Noon—Rainbase, Rain Dinners Casino.
"You've got to be kidding me. What is this, some kind of black-tech nonsense? And how the hell did he get his hands on it?!"
In the opulent third-floor suite of Rain Dinners, Aeridar shot up from the sofa, his voice ringing with disbelief as he reacted to the information brought back by Arlan and Oliver.
"Oi, Sand Croc, don't tell me you've seen something like this on the black market recently?"
"Hmph…" Crocodile let out a long puff of smoke, cigar clamped between his teeth. Slouched in the sofa across from Aeridar, his half-lidded eyes drifted over to the cracked greatsword resting atop the coffee table. Then he looked up and said in his usual gravelly tone, "Yeah… something like that started surfacing three months ago. It's called EDU5—The Malice Drug. Goes for ten million Beri a dose, twice the price of the old HRA11. So expensive, barely anyone touches it."
"Three months ago?!" Aeridar's brow furrowed. That was back when he'd just entered the Grand Line, still holed up recovering on a tiny village island in the East Blue. He hadn't even had contact with the outside world, let alone black market brokers.
"It's being distributed through Joker's network," Crocodile added coolly, narrowing his eyes. "But because of the steep price and how new it is, it hasn't made much of a splash yet."
Still, Crocodile wasn't taking this lightly. How the hell did Iman get his hands on ten million Beri? When did he even buy it? Sure, the kid admitted to Arlan and Oliver that he had ambitions, but with a price tag like that, he clearly had someone backing him. There's no way he dipped into Baroque Works' accounts, Crocodile would've noticed immediately.
So who's behind him… and what's their endgame?
"Joker's network…?" Aeridar gave Crocodile a sideways glance, his mind racing. So it's Doflamingo, huh? That bastard really does have his fingers in everything.
The black market was a twisted web. Pirates, underworld syndicates, rogue nations, even the World Government and Navy had agents embedded in it. Joker, aka Donquixote Doflamingo, was just one of many, but a dangerous one. As a broker, his reach and resources made him a central pillar in the underworld.
"Iman also said the moment the Chris Pirates leave Alabasta, we'll be wiped out by a Marine fleet. I've got a hunch there's a squadron hiding somewhere off the Alabasta coast," Arlan muttered from beside Aeridar, expression grim.
"I'm with the blue-haired freak on this one," Oliver chimed in, taking a swig of wine. His torso was still wrapped in fresh white bandages. "But here's the real kicker, how the hell does Iman know there's a Marine fleet out there? And what would a fleet be doing near Alabasta of all places? They really planning to wipe out our Chris Pirates?"
"I'd like to know that myself," Crocodile muttered, pouring himself a glass of red wine. "I'll have someone look into it."
If there really was a Marine fleet lurking in his territory, Crocodile wasn't about to sit on his hands. Whatever they were plotting, he wanted to know. The fact that they were sneaking around made it all the more suspicious, and aggravating.
"Well then, much obliged." Aeridar lifted his glass and toasted Crocodile from across the table.
"Cut the crap." Crocodile downed his drink and set the glass down with a clink. His voice dropped, cold and serious. "If there is a Marine fleet out there… I'll get you the intel. But in return, you take them out."
"That depends on how strong they are," Aeridar replied, scratching his head. "If it's a Vice Admiral from Marine HQ leading a bunch of Rear Admirals and Captains with thousands of troops… you and I would have to join forces just to stand a chance."
Crocodile shot him a withering look through half-lidded eyes. "Tch. If that's the case, then I've got bigger problems. I'd have to go ask those bastards what the hell they think they're doing in my territory."
After all, his own people had just betrayed him, and now there were Marines hiding off his coast? What the hell was this, a double-pronged ambush? If they were gunning for him, Crocodile needed to know now, while he still had the upper hand.
"And if even you can't confidently take out this Marine fleet," he added, his tone now edged with suspicion, "then we're looking at at least a Vice Admiral-led force."
"A Vice Admiral, huh?" Aeridar leaned back and gave a lopsided smirk. "Man, if the Navy's sending out someone like that just for me, I must be more important than I thought."
He wasn't joking. For a rookie pirate with a bounty of just 80 million Beri, a Marine HQ Vice Admiral wasn't something you'd expect. Those guys weren't just heavy-hitters, they could go toe-to-toe with pirates worth hundreds of millions.
"The Navy's stretched thin these days," Crocodile said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Most of their top brass are stuck in the New World. Seven Vice Admirals were already dispatched to work with local bases on anti-pirate campaigns along the first half of the Grand Line, just to keep their turf in check. The rest are tied up guarding Marineford, the branches, and the perimeter. They don't have the resources to launch extra assaults…"
Then he paused. Something clicked.
He turned to Arlan, eyes narrowing.
"You said Iman told you the Navy would definitely wipe you out if you left Alabasta?"
"Yeah," Arlan nodded. "Iman said that the moment we set sail, the Navy would crush us without fail."
"Then that only leaves one possibility," Crocodile murmured, clicking his tongue. "Given how strapped they are for manpower, the only way they could guarantee your destruction… would be if the fleet targeting you is one of the seven dispatched along this route."
Suddenly—just as Aeridar opened his mouth to speak…
Pere pere… pere pere pere…
The Den Den Mushi on the table began to ring. Crocodile's eyes narrowed.
He reached out and answered the call, the transponder snail wearing a brown cap and a sly, hoodlum-like expression.
Click.
"This is Crocodile."
"B-Boss! It's the Navy, they're heading toward Rainbase!" The voice on the other end was filled with panic, and the transponder snail's face mimicked the same fearful twitch.
"What?!"
"What?!" All four in the room shot to their feet, stunned.
Crocodile fixed his gaze on the snail. "Speak clearly. How many? Who's leading them?"
"There's… about 400 Marines. Three Captains, one Commodore, one Rear Admiral. The one leading them is… is…"
The voice broke into nervous stammering, cold sweat practically dripping from the transponder snail's brow.
"You idiot, spit it out!" Crocodile snapped.
"Boss, it's… it's Marine HQ Vice Admiral—Nielmark Syrons!"
The room went silent for a beat.
Then, the implications began to settle like stormclouds.
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