Wicked_Fiction
patreon
One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #116
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 14:15:38 +0000 UTCThe air inside Marine Headquarters’ great conference hall was heavy. Seven massive stone chairs lined the long table, but one remained consp
The air inside Marine Headquarters’ great conference hall was heavy. Seven massive stone chairs lined the long table, but one remained conspicuously empty — the seat once belonging to “Lizard King” Hanafuda, who had been unceremoniously booted from the ranks.
The rest of the Warlords had assembled, though “assembled” was generous. Mihawk leaned back in his seat with his legs sprawled across the polished table, hat tipped over his eyes like he was catching up on sleep.
Crocodile sat stiff-backed, polishing his golden hook with a white cloth, looking more interested in his reflection than the meeting. Jinbe had his massive arms crossed, silent as the ocean depths.
Moria was loudly devouring the banquet spread, greasy meat juices running down his chin as he cackled between bites.
Boa Hancock, coiled regally on Salome, radiated contempt as if just existing in the same room as the others was a crime against her dignity.
And then there was Doflamingo.
He lounged in his chair, grin plastered on his face like always, but the throbbing vein bulging at his temple betrayed him. The threads of his composure were fraying, and anyone with half an ounce of observation could feel the rage simmering off him.
Finally, Hancock broke the silence. She leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the pink-feathered pirate.
“I’ll have you know…” Her voice was cold, but carried the haughty lilt of royalty. “…that I do not appreciate being summoned under threats of losing my Warlord title. If this meeting comes to a vote, I will be the first to call for your execution, Donquixote.”
She tilted her chin upward, her beauty radiating like a weapon in itself. “Perhaps you should take the punishment in place of your foolish subordinate. At the very least, that man had the courage to plot the demise of a Celestial Dragon.”
The words hit like a hammer blow. Even Mihawk cracked one eyelid open, mildly curious. Jinbe’s brows furrowed. Crocodile smirked behind his cigar, clearly entertained.
Moria actually paused mid-bite, meat bone still in his mouth, then laughed so hard the chair rattled.
Doflamingo’s grin widened, but it was the kind of grin that looked ready to shatter into teeth-grinding rage at any second. A thin vein pulsed at his temple like a drumbeat.
“Fuffuffuffuffu… what a scary woman…” his tone was still mocking, but his voice had lost its usual airy swing, weighted with steel. “…but you should know one thing. I don’t take the fall for anyone… and neither does my family.”
His sunglasses flashed as he leaned forward. “Someone set Diamante up. And I’m here… to find out who.”
Behind him, Trebol wriggled forward, mucus splattering the marble floor as he sputtered, “D-D-Don’tcha be talkin’ to D-Doooffy like that, w-woman Doffy ain’t the type y-you can j-j-just—!”
Hancock’s glare sliced through him like a spear. She didn’t even move—just tilted her chin and exhaled one disdainful scoff.
“Do not speak to me, filth.”
Trebol froze like he’d been shot. His gangly frame hunched, mucus dribbling as he muttered something unintelligible into his scarf, shrinking back behind Doflamingo like a scolded child.
The room went quiet—until Mihawk’s voice cut through, low and almost lazy, from beneath the brim of his hat.
“If nothing else…” he shifted, boots still on the table, “this is… interesting. A Warlord’s subordinate killing a Celestial Dragon.” His golden eyes cracked open briefly, glinting as they slid toward Doflamingo.
“…The Government usually buries scandals like this.” He let the pause hang, deliberately heavy. “…But this one didn’t get buried.”
Doflamingo’s grin twitched.
Jinbe rumbled, arms crossed like stone pillars. “If the reports are true… then things won’t end with your subordinate, Doflamingo. The Celestial Dragons will want blood. Yours.”
Crocodile gave a low chuckle, smoke curling lazily from his cigar as he polished his hook. “Looks like the untouchable Joker finally drew a bad hand…” His grin widened, eyes glinting with sharp amusement.
“It’s as Snake Princess says. If it comes to a vote…” He tapped ash into a dish. “…I’ll vote against you. After all—” he leaned back, smug, “—it’s always good to get rid of competition.”
Moria snorted mid-bite, a piece of meat dangling from his mouth for dear life. “Kehehehehe!” he cackled, juices dripping onto his lap. “So much for the big scary Joker, huh?! Keheheh! Not so funny when the joke’s on you!”
The vein on Doflamingo’s temple pulsed harder, like it was about to snap and whip across the room. His grin twisted, teeth grinding faintly behind it.
“Fuffuffuffuffu… That will never come to be, Crocodile. I’m not going anywhere.” His sunglasses tilted as he scanned the table, each Warlord reflected in the black glass.
“You lot aren’t here to decide my fate. The Marines dragged you here to put pressure on me… to get me to bend. But you don’t scare me.” His voice dropped into that razor-edged growl, more predator than clown.
Before anyone could reply, the great doors creaked open. The chatter cut like a blade.
Three figures entered.
At the front—Fleet Admiral Sengoku, broad as a fortress, coat flowing like a cape of authority. Beside him, moving like he had all the time in the world, Borsalino “Kizaru,” his hands tucked in his pockets and his bored face masking sharp eyes.
And trailing behind them—leaner, younger, a rapier strapped casually at his hip—stood Gale.
Sengoku took the head seat at the table, Kizaru dropped lazily into the chair beside him, and Gale? Gale didn’t sit. He simply stood behind Sengoku with an easy smirk that screamed: yeah, I belong here.
The Warlords all took notice.
Moria was the first to react. His bulging eyes narrowed, lip curling into a sneer. “Oi… brat,” he rumbled, looming forward. “Ain’t no place for a little Marine punk like you in this room… keheheh!” His glare alone was supposed to crush lesser men.
Gale didn’t flinch. He didn’t bow. He didn’t even blink.
Instead… he dug into his nose.
The silence was deafening. Every eye followed his finger. And then, with the delicate precision of a sniper… Gale flicked the little treasure straight into Moria’s plate of meat.
The booger landed with a wet plop, right between two greasy ribs.
Moria’s expression went from irritated… to murderous in under a second. His entire body shook, his massive teeth grinding as a vein bulged across his pale forehead.
He looked every bit as ready to kill as Doflamingo had been seconds earlier.
“Y…you little… KEHEHEHEHEEEEEEH!!” The laugh that came out was jagged, deranged, like someone had just snapped his sanity in half.
His huge hands twitched over the table like he was two seconds from flipping it or lunging across it.
Gale, meanwhile, casually took one step to the side—nestling himself neatly behind Sengoku’s chair, peeking out with the smug grin of a school kid who just dared the local bully while hiding behind Dad.
He even tilted his head innocently, as if to say: What? Who, me?
Inside, Gale was fighting the urge to laugh out loud. Oh man, this is gonna be so much fun... Moria’s about to burst a vein and I didn’t even need to throw a punch.'
Kizaru, watching the exchange from his seat, scratched his cheek and let out a lazy whistle. “Ooooh, that was dangerous… this youngster plays rough…”
Even Mihawk tilted his head slightly, one golden eye peeking from under the brim of his hat, silently amused. Crocodile’s cigar twitched as if suppressing a smirk.
Sengoku, for his part, pinched the bridge of his nose like he’d aged ten years in ten seconds.
Doflamingo, still seething, gave a single harsh chuckle. “Fuffuffuffuffu… Looks like the Marines brought their own little jester to the table.”
Gale cocked his head, giving Doflamingo a slow once-over, his smirk sharpening into something downright cheeky.
“Jester?” he repeated, pointing casually with his thumb. “I’m not the one dressed in pink feathers and pointy elf shoes, pal. Don’t project your carnival issues onto me.”
Crocodile let out a deep, smoky chuckle, lips curling around his cigar. “Heh… ah-ah-ah… how the mighty have fallen...”
That did it. The vein on Doflamingo’s temple throbbed like it was about to detonate. The sound that came from his throat wasn’t laughter—it was a jagged rasp as he rose slightly in his seat. And then—
BOOM.
The air itself cracked. Conqueror’s Haki burst from him like a wave of invisible fire, crashing over the room. The temperature seemed to drop, the walls groaned, and the plates on the table rattled like they might shatter.
The brunt of it slammed straight into Gale.
For a second, his lungs clenched tight, sweat broke down his temple, and his foot slid half a step back across the polished floor. 'Holy hell… this guy’s pressure feels like trying to breathe under a mountain…'
And yet—he didn’t buckle.
His grin wobbled, strained at the edges, but it was still there. He tilted his chin up at Doflamingo, eyes sparkling like a brat who just got dared to stick a fork in an outlet.
Yeah, nice pressure, flamingo-boy… but it's nothing compared to the old man, Garp, and Rayleigh. Keep it coming. I’m not breaking just ‘cause you’re stomping your psychic foot.
Even Mihawk’s eyes opened, golden irises watching with mild intrigue as Gale refused to bend. Hancock scoffed—loudly enough to make Trebol twitch.
It all came to an end with a thunderclap of sound—Sengoku’s palm slamming against the table so hard the wood nearly split.
“That’s ENOUGH!” His voice boomed like a cannon shot. His glare pinned Doflamingo like a nail. “Unless you want to add assaulting a Marine Captain to your list of crimes, Donquixote!”
The oppressive weight of the Haki receded instantly, like a storm cut short. Doflamingo leaned back into his chair, feathers rustling, his forced grin stretching tight.
“Fuffuffuffuffu… Alleged crimes, Sengoku-san. Alleged. Don’t forget.” His shades flashed, hiding the heat in his eyes. Then, tilting his head ever so slightly, he nodded toward Gale. “But before we get to that—care to explain? What’s a mere Marine captain doing in this room? This is far above his pay grade.”
The other Warlords perked at that. Crocodile’s grin widened, Mihawk’s eyes flicked to Sengoku for the first time since entering, and Hancock actually leaned forward with a curl of her lip, clearly finding the idea offensive on principle.
Comments
trollord3000
Operation give Doflamingo a coronary is a go
elph
Time to use the marine ultra super secret special technique. Lying.
Tynga Kpandang
Well hang me over the cliff why dont you
