"…I'll set the rules!"
With that arrogant declaration, the world's most notorious criminal shoved open the heavy doors.
Light burst in, and a tide of sound crashed over him—shutters popping like distant thunder, voices rising, a thousand eyes snapping into focus. Darren tugged his tie, grin widening, and walked straight into the storm.
Only when the doors thudded shut and the roar outside ebbed like a receding tide did Morgans and Stussy stir from their stunned silence.
After a long beat, Morgans let out a slow breath and cut a sideways look at the blonde woman on the sofa. The cigarette between her fingers had burned to a blackened nub.
"So… he's always been that impossibly arrogant?"
He clicked his tongue. "Well, I'll be."
As Underworld Emperors, he and Stussy had fenced and circled for years—turning allies when convenience demanded it, rivals the rest of the time. He never bothered with airs around her.
Stussy's mind replayed the sight of that man calmly carving rotten flesh off his own body with a dining knife, a faint smile on his lips. Much as she hated to admit it, she gave a reluctant nod.
Morgans blinked. She actually agreed?
He knew her pride. He'd dug into her past for years; even the News King had come up dry. Yet the Queen of the Pleasure District, whose standards were famously ruthless, acknowledged Rogers Darren without hesitation.
Fascinating.
"Is he just as… domineering in bed?" Morgans asked, eyes glittering.
Stussy nodded before she realized the trap. Anger flashed.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
Flying Shigan.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Finger-sized holes stitched the wall behind Morgans, dust curling into the air. A bead of sweat slid down his temple as he lifted his wings in surrender.
"If he didn't still need your usefulness," Stussy said coldly, "you'd be a corpse."
"My apologies, my apologies—overstepped," Morgans babbled, bowing to hide the grin he couldn't restrain.
A massive scoop. A massive scoop!
---
When Darren stepped through the doors, flashbulbs detonated across the grand hall.
"He's here!"
"I can't believe it!"
"Rogers Darren survived a battle with the Gorosei!"
"He's not in a Marine coat—has he severed ties for good?"
"What's the point of this press conference?"
Reporters and agents surged, feverish eyes locked on the tall, straight-backed figure. Former Vice Admiral, the "legendary" monster of Marine Headquarters—vanquisher of Byrnndi World and the Golden Lion—now the highest-bountied criminal in history. His life was a headline written by war and scandal.
They crushed forward, cameras blazing.
"Mr. Darren, is the World Economy News Paper report accurate? Did you really fight the Gorosei?"
"Mr. Darren, as the most wanted man on the seas, how do you feel about your new status?"
"Mr. Darren, since the Government and Marines named you a wanted criminal, have you cut ties with the Marines? What role will you assume at sea?"
"Mr. Darren, rumors say you command an extraordinary fleet—some nations call it a 'weapon of mass destruction.' Is that true?"
The questions flew, rapid and unrelenting. Darren walked on with a faint smile, polished brown shoes whispering over plush carpet, the camera-light sketching the lines of his face. His slicked-back hair lent him something wild and lawless.
He reached the reddish-brown podium and tapped the mic.
Visual Den Den Mushi activated at once. Soft, layered light haloed the black-haired figure.
As the signal locked, the scene bled across the globe—Member States, Non-Member States, great powers and neutral islands—everywhere at once. The world jolted as if a bomb had gone off, noise rising like a tidal surge.
---
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
Central Fortress.
Highest Military Conference Room.
Sengoku sat at the head of a room thick with smoke, senior officers arrayed on either side. The air was heavy; tempers, heavier.
"So we still haven't found so much as a trace of that brat Darren?"
Bang.
His fist hit the table. His face knotted into a scowl as he raked the room with bloodshot eyes.
"What the hell have you all been doing?!"
To be continued...