In Water 7, the Franky Family was known for two things: dismantling ships and dismantling people. They were ruffians, bounty hunters, and some of the best shipbreakers in the city. But their reputation was as rough as their methods, so despite their skill, most ordinary citizens steered clear. Unless you were truly desperate, you didn't bring your business to the Franky House, not if you wanted to avoid getting ripped off.
This morning, like any other, Zambai, a squad leader for the family, unbolted the main gate to start the day. Most of their work came from pirates, but you still had to open the doors for business. Of course, "business" didn't mean they cooperated with pirates. They intercepted them, turned them over to the Marines for the bounty, and then broke down their ships for parts and profit. It was a process the Franky Family had perfected, ensuring not a single pirate crew went to waste.
Still, being a bounty hunter on the Grand Line was a dangerous living. Not every ambush was a success, in fact, most of them failed, which meant their quality of life swung wildly. One month they'd be rolling in cash, and the next they'd be struggling to buy beer for a party.
A while back, for instance, a flood of pirate ships had come in from the East Blue. It was some kind of cooperative deal, and it had made them a fortune, enough for a prosperous New Year. But the business dried up as quickly as it had started. For some reason, not a single ship was sent over from there again. The rumor was that some big shot had shaken things up, throwing the whole sea into chaos and thinning out the pirate ranks.
Zambai tore a flyer off the gate, he had no idea when it had been posted, and crumpled it in his fist. "Who the hell keeps sticking this thing up?" he grumbled, throwing it to the ground. "It's here every damn morning."
The ad was ridiculous. High pay, generous benefits, even room and board included. It had to be a scam.
"Still hiring?" he muttered, kicking at the discarded paper. "You could at least write down an address. Without one, who knows where to go for an interview?"
No address, no contact information. How was anyone supposed to apply? He had to tear the same one down every single day. With a frustrated sigh, Zambai squatted, picked the flyer back up, and smoothed it out. 'High salary, generous benefits, full insurance, room and board included?'
Below that, some text boasted about a new shipyard looking for talent. It mentioned a shortage of shipwrights, profit sharing, and commissions. It even promised that the new hire would be the chief designer, free to unleash their inspiration.
'It does sound tempting,' he thought. 'Room and board, and I could start designing ships right away... even become the chief designer. A pity.'
He shook his head with a sigh. Back in the day, he might've chased a lead like that for the thrill of it, back when dreams felt within reach. But that was before Big Bro Franky pulled him into the fold. Now his loyalty ran deep, jumping ship wasn't an option.
Besides, it was obviously fake. "There's no location, no way to even apply," Zambai said to himself, lowering his head. "It's a scam."
Just as he was about to toss the paper for good, a deep, booming voice rumbled from beside him. "Are you the one who wants an interview?"
Zambai jolted, spinning around. "What the, ?"
Zambai jumped, startled. "Who-?" He spun around, but before he could get another word out, the same voice echoed right in his ear. "The interviewer is waiting. I'll send you over now."
The words had barely registered before Zambai felt a strange, lifting sensation. "What the hell-"
His feet left the ground, and his body shot into the air. 'An interview? Where?'
Before he could process what was happening, he was flying away from Water 7 at an high speed. A single sheet of paper fluttered down from where he had been standing, drifting gently back to the ground before sticking itself, once again, to the main gate.
A short while later, another figure emerged from the Franky House. "Huh? Didn't Zambai open the door?" He stopped, noticing the flyer. "Not this thing again."
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A few days later, Dante looked over the interview records in his hand and nodded with satisfaction. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
There had been a minor incident or two, but he had managed to recruit everyone he wanted. He had to admit, Mock and Kuma were surprisingly effective recruiters.
'Looks like the shipyard can start operating soon,' he thought.
Beside him, Robin watched her boss with a curious and amused expression. After a moment, she said with a helpless sigh, "Boss, I have to point out that kidnapping potential employees is not a standard recruitment practice. They aren't likely to be cooperative."
"Don't worry about it," Dante said with a casual wave. "If they say no, we'll send them back. Simple as that. Besides, it might just work out. Look at Vegapunk, he seems perfectly happy."
He was confident about the Franky Family, too. As long as their leader, Franky, agreed to the terms, he was sure the rest of his underlings would follow.
"Well, you seem to have it all figured out," Robin replied, deciding not to press the matter. She trusted her boss, and while his methods were outrageous, he clearly had a plan. As his secretary, it wasn't her place to dwell on it.
Just then, Dante stretched and stood up. "Alright then," he said leisurely. "I suppose we should go conduct an interview of our own."
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"Zambai?"
"Kop?"
"And Big Bro Franky? What's going on here?"
The members of the Franky Family stared at one another in a state of shared confusion. Even Franky himself looked completely lost.
"Zambai, how'd you end up here?" Franky asked, scratching his head as he took in their surroundings. "And seriously, where the hell are we?"
Zambai blinked at the question, rubbing his temple like it might jog his memory. "Me? I was just opening the gate this morning, spotted that recruitment flyer on the door..."
As he spoke, looks of dawning recognition spread across the faces of the others.
"Me too!" one of them exclaimed.
"You too? Same here! I just picked up that flyer, and then I was here."
"It happened to all of us? You don't think... it was ghosts, do you?"
A chill ran through the group at the suggestion. It made a strange kind of sense. They had all been whisked away without seeing a single person. Hearing the word "ghosts," the scantily clad Square Sisters, Kiwi and Mozu, immediately pressed themselves against Franky. "Big Bro Franky! What do we do?"
"Hmm... SUPER!" Franky struck his signature pose, trying to project confidence. "Everyone, calm down! I'm here. No matter where this is, as your boss, I'll get you all home safe."
His legs might've been quaking under the speedo, but he wasn't about to let it show.
"Uh, Big Bro... your legs are shaking!" one of his underlings pointed out.
"Shut up!" Franky shot back with a glare, then surveyed their surroundings. "Everyone, spread out and look for clues. Find out where we are, or anything that might be useful..."
He trailed off as Zambai suddenly pointed to a sign standing nearby. "Big Bro Franky, I think we go this way," he said.
The sign read: "Interview Location," with an arrow pointing deeper into the building.
A dead silence fell over the group.
It couldn't be that straightforward, could it?
Franky's expression reddened. Thinking about how they'd been brought here against their will, his face turned grim. He waved his crew forward. "Let's go. We'll see who's behind this."
He led the way, his underlings trailing behind him, all of them ready to settle the score. When they entered the next room, they found only two people waiting, seated behind a table with two small signs that read "Interviewer."
A collective sigh of relief went through the Franky Family. They were just people. So it really was an interview.
Franky, dressed in his usual speedo and unbuttoned shirt, locked his eyes on the black-haired young man across from him. He cracked his knuckles, ready to teach the man a lesson for provoking the Franky Family. He'd demand an explanation, some hefty compensation, and a ride back home.
But before he could open his mouth, the young man spoke first, a calm smile on his face. "Mr. Franky... or should I say, Cutty Flam?"
His tone was leisurely, almost conversational. "You wouldn't want the World Government to find out your true identity, would you? Or the fact that you're hiding the blueprints for Pluton?"
Franky froze, his fist still raised. The aggressive aura around him vanished in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief.
'How in the hell does he know that?'
'And... isn't this supposed to be an interview? Why is he threatening me?'
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