This time, Jerry didn't just hear Ace's roar; he saw the result. Not far ahead, a small mushroom cloud of dust and fire billowed into the sky, followed by a tremor that shook the very ground beneath his feet. He pushed himself faster, sprinting through the panicked streets, and arrived at the scene of the crime in a flash, much like a famous detective who always appears just after the villain has finished their monologue.
The town square was a disaster zone. At its center was a freshly made crater, still smoking. Jerry looked across it at Ace, who was standing there, covered from head to toe in dirt and grime. He was leaning on his knees, panting heavily, and his clothes bore the marks of a fierce battle. But he was undeniably the victor. Not far in front of him, a large, shadowed figure lay unconscious in a heap, scorched and smoldering.
"So, what's the story here?" Jerry asked, putting his hands on his hips. "Did I arrive late? Is the show already over?"
Ace looked up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he flashed a wide, sunny grin that showed all eight of his teeth. "Heh... huff... ha..." he gasped for breath. "This guy... claimed he was the boss around here. One of the Seven Warlords' lackey, or something. Anyway... I win now!"
His declaration hung in the air. Cautiously, as if waking from a long nightmare, the town's civilians began to emerge from the surrounding alleys and houses where they had been hiding. They stared with a mixture of disbelief and terror at the fallen figure of their oppressor. A moment passed. Then another. When the man didn't move, a collective gasp swept through the crowd.
"He... he's not getting up," someone whispered.
"We won? Is this... is this really not a dream?" another voice choked out. "That's great! We're finally free!!!"
The dam of fear broke. A tidal wave of emotion washed over the square. People began cheering, while others collapsed to their knees, sobbing with years of pent-up grief and relief. Some, filled with a righteous fury, rushed forward and began kicking the unconscious body of their former tyrant, their cheers mixing with curses.
"Haha! We're not dreaming! It's real! Oh, thank you, thank you!"
It was a beautiful, chaotic symphony of human emotion. Jerry watched it all, piecing things together. From what he'd seen with Shirley, he knew this island was hiding a dark underbelly. It seemed they had just stumbled upon its rotten core and, in true Ace fashion, ripped it out.
"Jerry, you're here! What happened on your end?"
Deuce and Skull appeared from a side street, walking briskly. With them was a tall, powerfully built Fishman with the features of a scorpionfish, who looked around at the scene with wary but hopeful eyes.
"Ah, just a small matter," Jerry said with a dismissive wave. "Ran into some human traffickers, so I took out the trash." He looked around at the celebrating crowds, his eyes lingering on the l waiter from the restaurant, who was now crying tears of joy. "So, what exactly happened here? And who is our new Fishman brother?"
Hearing himself mentioned, the Fishman stepped forward and bowed awkwardly, a gesture that looked strange on his powerful frame. "Uh... ah, hello! My name is Wallace! It is an honor to meet you all. Please, take care of me!"
"Ohhh, Boss Jerry, this island is a living nightmare! This is all a trap!" Skull shrieked, his skeleton mask somehow contorting into an expression of pure indignation. He launched into the full story.
It turned out that not long after Jerry had left the restaurant to go "strolling," Ace and the others decided to head out to purchase the supplies on Deuce's list. Ace, his belly full for once, had no immediate desire to run off on his own, so the group walked together through the streets, looking for the shops Deuce had marked on his map.
As they were looking around, a man dressed as a dock worker, with a friendly and decent look on his face, approached them. He asked if they needed help buying anything, claiming he was a local and could show them the best places. Seeing a chance to save time, they readily agreed.
The guide was helpful at first. He led them to several shops that indeed had the goods and food they were looking for. After they had made a few purchases, he told them that since the stores were low on stock for the bulk orders they needed, he could take them directly to the main supply warehouse to pick everything out themselves.
It seemed logical. No one suspected a thing. They followed the man through a winding maze of back alleys until they arrived at a large, dark, windowless building. The moment the last of them stepped through the door, the guide leaped nimbly to the side. With a deafening clang, a massive iron cage crashed down from the ceiling. The placement was perfect, trapping them all with room to spare. It was clearly a well-designed, frequently used trap.
They finally realized this was no ordinary warehouse. It was a holding pen.
Before their eyes were rows upon rows of cages, filled with people of all ages, shackled and silent. Most sat or lay on the floor, their eyes hollow with despair. One or two looked over at the newly captured Ace and his crew with a flicker of dark, schadenfreude-fueled amusement.
In the center of the vast, damp space was a platform used for torture, with flogging being the most common punishment. Its central placement was clearly meant to serve as a warning, an example to break the spirits of the other captives. At that very moment, Wallace, the scarred scorpion Fishman, was being escorted up onto it, his mouth gagged and his hands and feet in chains. He struggled fiercely, but the guards slowly dragged him forward.
"More new prey?" a lazy voice drawled. A man wearing a gaudy, shit-yellow coat was lounging on a massive throne-like chair, looking them over with sharp, predatory eyes. "You've been efficient today, kid."
"Hey, thank you for the compliment, boss!" the man who had led them into the trap said, bowing humbly.
The leader's eyes, full of arrogance and provocation, settled on Ace. "You're the new pirate crew that landed this morning, aren't you?" he sneered. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to find out whose territory you're on and what the rules are before you step ashore?" He tapped his long fingers on the arm of his chair. "But, since this is your first offense, I'll be merciful. One hundred million Berries. Hand it over obediently, and perhaps I'll let you return to the sea to enjoy the feeling of flying freely. Hahahahaha!" He threw his head back and laughed, a loud, unrestrained sound that echoed through the grim warehouse.
Ace's face darkened. "Uncle, who do you think you are?" he said, his voice dangerously low. "Are you playing some kind of game? Because I have no intention of surrendering." As he spoke, he slowly raised his right hand, readying himself to attack.
"Hahaha! Who do I think I am? Rookie, you'd better face reality!" A flash of madness entered the leader's eyes, as if he was already imagining the profit. "It seems we'll have to hold onto you for a while. If you don't have the money to redeem yourselves, you can be sold. Some Celestial Dragons have a peculiar habit of collecting rookie captains."
That was it. The final straw. "Human traffickers?" Ace whispered, his face turning into a thunderous mask of rage as sparks of anger flashed in his eyes. As the enemy minions rushed toward their cage with crazed expressions, his entire arm erupted into a column of brilliant flame.
"Hey! Ace! We're still in here!" Deuce shouted, but his words were drowned out.
With a furious roar, Ace's flaming fist didn't just obliterate the cage bars; the force of the attack continued unabated, blasting a massive hole clean through the warehouse wall and roof. Orange flames danced around the edges of the new opening, and a brilliant beam of sunlight pierced through the gloom, as if foreshadowing that the darkness was about to be broken.
The leading man was about to shout an order, but Ace gave him no time for more empty words.
"Firefly... Fire Bodhidharma!"
Ace didn't give the boss another second to gloat. Green, firefly-like embers filled the air before converging on the man in a devastating series of explosions. true?