"So they cause their own losses, then fudge the numbers to lower their payments..."
"They must've thought Ozz doesn't like getting his hands dirty, so they took a gamble."
"Fufufufu... considering he's the richest man in the world, maybe they figured he wouldn't notice a few missing coins?"
And this wasn't even an isolated incident.
In several regions, the same trick was being pulled: stage a "bandit attack," conveniently lose a shipment along with the year's ledgers, and suddenly the reported profits dip meaning the taxes do too.
Frankly, if Ozz were really as lazy as they believed, or if his subordinates weren't so meticulous, they might've gotten away with it.
Unfortunately for them, this was a gamble where they ended up losing their heads.
Between Doflamingo, who kept his finger on the pulse of the underworld, and the global reach of the news-seagull network, it was only a matter of time before the scam got sniffed out.
North Blue.
Perched atop the back of a massive snailship, uniformed soldiers identical in every feature stood in perfect rows guarding the central citadel.
Inside, on the top floor, a tall, golden-haired man in a plumed helmet sat with a scowl upon his throne, staring intently at the Den Den Mushi.
"You left no loose ends?"
His brow furrowed, tension in his jaw. He fixed his eyes on the face appearing through the video feed.
Regret was already creeping in. All this trouble for a bag of cash had he been too hasty in colluding with those underground rats to hijack a trade ship?
Granted, piracy and plunder were the lifeblood of Germa 66, and that man that man was always roaming the Grand Line. No way he'd ever care about a few "missing" goods out here in the North Blue, right?
Still, something gnawed at him.
"Rest easy, Your Majesty Judge of Germa. All external contacts have been silenced. No one knows a thing. Just sit back and enjoy the funds."
Judge gave a slight nod and hung up.
Germa's military-industrial machine devoured money like a bottomless pit this side hustle had brought in a good chunk of change.
He rose from his throne and strode to the window.
Outside, endless lines of clone soldiers stood in formation, bred to obey, born into war. These were Germa's proudest creation: genetically engineered warriors with steel in their bones from birth.
Even the so-called Emperors of the Sea, Judge believed, could be overwhelmed. Throw enough weapons, throw enough men eventually, the tide would turn.
Such was the thinking of a younger, more reckless Judge who had yet to witness what true power looked like.
Not everyone had the guts.
Brrr brrr brrr...
The Den Den Mushi buzzed again. Judge picked it up.
"Click."
The face on the line made his brows twitch.
A familiar merchant from long ago Nicholas. One of the old dogs. A broker who'd trafficked Germa's weapons for years and stoked the flames of war across the globe. A textbook villain of the underworld.
"What's got you calling me, Nicholas?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Judge..."
Nicholas was pacing. He'd been at the last Underworld Summit. He knew what the title "Black Emperor" meant.
Greed had blinded him at the time, but now? Every second since, he'd been haunted by one question what if he found out?
"That doesn't sound like you. Always second-guessing now?"
"You made your move, so clean up the mess. Regret's for cowards. Besides... this is the North Blue! Germa's turf!"
Judge was brimming with confidence. He was ready to test the waters.
After all, who said "technology" couldn't match "Haki"?
"You weren't at the summit. You don't know what that man is capable of."
Nicholas remembered how a bodyguard with a 500 million bounty collapsed under a single wave of that presence he still shivered thinking about it.
"I'm out. I'll cover the shortfall myself. Let someone else play martyr."
Survival came first. Money meant nothing to a corpse.
His whole career had been built on the art of cowardice duck, wait, survive. That's how he stayed alive this long in a world that fed on blood.
"You've made a fortune, but your guts have shrunk, Nicholas."
Judge scoffed. "We're talking about a pirate."
To him, it was pathetic. Spineless. Where was the ambition? The fire? Fortune was seized, not begged for.
"Fufufufufu... Bold words, King Judge."
A mocking laugh rang out.
Judge's face darkened. He snapped his arm up, summoning a crackling electric spear to his hand.
That voice. He knew it.
Golden hair. Pink feathered cloak. A wicked, lazy smile full of cruelty and playfulness.
Heavenly Yaksha Doflamingo.
"You bastard pirate!"
How had he bypassed all of Germa's defenses? He was on the roof of the royal palace.
"Who is it?! Who's there?!"
Nicholas, still on the line, was panicking.
"Now this is perfect timing. Isn't that Nicholas I see there?"
Doflamingo leaned casually against the window sill, peering into the Den Den Mushi's eye.
"I'm just here to soften things up. Lord Ozz will be arriving shortly."
He curled a finger. Thin threads danced in the air as several guards who'd tried to storm in were puppeteered mid-step, halted before they could enter.
"No... no, no, no..."
Nicholas's face drained of all color. Eyes bulging. Snot and tears pouring down as his pupils lost focus.
That name. The one name he didn't want to hear.
It was over. Totally over...
"You dare trespass on Germa's royal grounds?!"
Judge roared, thunder crackling under his boots as he launched himself like a lightning bolt at Doflamingo, spear-first.
"You really want to do this the hard way?"
Doflamingo burst into laughter, easily skipping away and rising onto threads woven from clouds, hovering high in the sky.
"Fufufufufu... I admire your guts, King Judge.
If you survive today, I swear I'll make sure we do more business together in the future."
"Of course...
That is, if you do survive."
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