-Real World - Alabasta Kingdom, Remote Desert Settlement-
The Straw Hat Pirates weren't the only crew hiding in Alabasta, suffering through the kingdom's crisis while waiting for circumstances to improve.
The Blackbeard Pirates—still in their developmental phase, barely formed as a functional organization—found themselves forced into the same desert refuge for entirely different reasons.
"It's all because of this DAMN Sky Screen!" Marshall D. Teach slammed his fist against the table hard enough to crack the wood. "Putting me on display like that! Building me up! Now every dark force in the world is hunting me!"
His voice carried genuine aggrievement—the tone of someone who'd been treated unfairly by circumstances beyond his control.
"Are they looking to recruit me? No! They want to KILL me! Eliminate the competition before I become a real threat! I can't even go out to enjoy myself anymore—can't visit brothels, can't drink in taverns, can't do ANYTHING without risking assassination!"
He gestured wildly at their cramped hideout—a abandoned building in a settlement so remote that most Alabasta citizens didn't know it existed.
"This is what I'm reduced to. Marshall D. Teach. The man prophesied to become a Yonko. Hiding in a desert shithole, afraid to show his face."
Initially, Teach had embraced the Sky Screen's revelations. Every broadcast that elevated his future status, every prediction of his rise to Yonko rank, every indication that he'd become one of the world's most powerful pirates—he'd accepted it all with enthusiastic pride.
Finally, he'd thought. Recognition. Acknowledgment of what I'll become. The world seeing my potential.
But enthusiasm had soured quickly as he began understanding the implications.
The Blackbeard Pirates had lost the most valuable resource any rising organization possessed: obscurity. The ability to develop in secret. Time to recruit, train, consolidate power without attracting attention from established forces who might crush them preemptively.
Instead, the Sky Screen had thrust them into the spotlight before they were ready. Every action now occurred under microscopic scrutiny. Every recruitment attempt risked interference. Even basic operations like resupplying or moving between islands invited observation from parties who wanted to either exploit or eliminate them.
We can't even raise our flag anymore, Teach thought bitterly. The jolly roger I designed, the symbol of my crew—we have to hide it like criminals. Because showing it means death.
The irony was crushing. The Sky Screen had simultaneously elevated him to legendary status and trapped him in paralysis. He was simultaneously too important to ignore and too weak to protect himself from the attention.
"And the Marines!" Teach continued his rant, pacing the small room like a caged predator. "You think they'll make the same mistake twice? The Sky Screen showed them getting betrayed by me in the future. You think Sengoku's stupid enough to trust me after seeing that?"
He laughed bitterly.
"I should be grateful he hasn't sent Admirals to arrest me preemptively. That's the only kindness that old bastard's showing—deciding I'm not worth the effort to eliminate yet."
Lafitte—the Blackbeard Pirates' navigator and chief field operative—leaned against the wall with his characteristic unsettling smile. The pale man with his top hat and cane looked like a gothic gentleman even in these crude circumstances.
"Captain," Lafitte said in his smooth, almost sing-song voice, "your grievances are noted. But recriminations against fate accomplish nothing. We must focus on practical matters."
His smile widened slightly.
"The ship repairs are progressing. Another week, perhaps two, and we'll be seaworthy again. The sea is currently too dangerous for movement anyway—multiple forces hunting us simultaneously. This desert kingdom provides excellent temporary refuge. Nobody thinks to look for pirates in landlocked settlements."
Teach growled but didn't argue. Lafitte was right, which made the situation more frustrating rather than less.
"What about the Whitebeard Pirates?" Teach demanded. "Any update on those persistent bastards?"
"Ah yes." Lafitte's expression suggested he was enjoying delivering bad news. "Your former crewmates remain... dedicated to your capture. Edward Newgate has sent multiple division commanders to hunt you. They've also placed substantial bounties through underground networks—enough money that even minor information brokers are motivated to search."
He consulted notes written in his elegant script.
"Intelligence suggests Fire Fist Ace, Marco the Phoenix, and Vista the Flower Sword have coordinated their search efforts. They're working together rather than separately, which significantly increases their effectiveness. Capturing Roger's son again would require... considerable resources we currently lack."
"So we avoid them," Teach said flatly. "No confrontation until we're stronger. Those three together could kill me. No shame in tactical retreat."
It was the right call, but it stung. Marshall D. Teach had ambitions of becoming Yonko, but right now he was running from three division commanders. The gap between current reality and prophesied future felt impossibly wide.
The atmosphere in the Blackbeard Pirates' hideout was notably different from the Straw Hat Pirates' camp elsewhere in Alabasta.
Where the Straw Hats showed genuine camaraderie—arguing and bickering but clearly caring about each other—the Blackbeard Pirates radiated mercenary pragmatism. These men weren't friends. They were business partners pursuing shared goals through temporary alliance.
If I lose value, Teach understood clearly, they'll betray me without hesitation. Loyalty is a luxury this crew can't afford.
That reality was built into the organization's foundation. Teach himself had destroyed the concept of crewmate loyalty when he murdered Thatch over a Devil Fruit. He'd shown the Whitebeard Pirates—a crew built on familial bonds—that power mattered more than brotherhood.
Can't complain when my own crew follows the example I set. If the top isn't righteous, the bottom will be crooked. What I can do to Whitebeard, they can do to me.
It was pragmatic. Rational. And profoundly lonely in ways Teach rarely allowed himself to acknowledge.
Van Augur—the crew's sniper—sat in a corner cleaning his rifle with methodical precision. The tall, thin man with his distinctive long gun rarely spoke unless he had something meaningful to contribute.
"Captain," he said without looking up from his weapon maintenance, "I've been analyzing the Mary Geoise preview image. Specifically, my positioning relative to other crew members."
Teach gestured for him to continue.
"I'm standing next to an unfamiliar man. Pale complexion, slender build, refined features. Clearly not a close-combat specialist—probably relies on Devil Fruit abilities or specialized weapons." Van Augur finally looked up, his expression thoughtful. "What's interesting is his positioning relative to me."
"Explain."
"He's standing one body length higher in the formation hierarchy. Closer to you. More prominently positioned." Van Augur's voice remained clinically neutral. "This suggests he'll hold higher rank than me despite joining the crew later. A future recruitment who immediately receives status above current veterans."
The observation hung in the air. Several other crew members stopped what they were doing to listen.
"You're concerned about status," Teach stated rather than asked.
"I'm analyzing probability," Van Augur corrected. "You promised us positions when we joined—captain-level authority within five years. We're the founding members, the original crew. Yet this stranger who hasn't even been recruited yet will apparently outrank us."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"What exceptional qualities does he possess that justify such immediate elevation? What power or knowledge makes him more valuable than those who've served since the beginning?"
It was a reasonable question. Also a potentially dangerous one, implying criticism of Teach's future recruitment decisions.
"I don't know yet," Teach admitted honestly. "The Sky Screen showed him but didn't explain who he is or what he brings. But if future me gives him that position, I trust my own judgment. I'll recruit someone valuable, not just randomly elevate newcomers."
"Of course, Captain," Van Augur said, returning to his rifle maintenance. But his expression suggested he'd remember this conversation. Would watch for signs of the mystery recruit. Would evaluate whether Teach's promise of captain-level positions for founding members remained credible.
This is what happens when you build a crew on ambition rather than loyalty, Teach thought grimly. Everyone's always calculating. Watching for threats to their position. Waiting for opportunities to advance.
It was exhausting. But it was the crew he'd chosen to build.
"There's another complication," Lafitte interjected, drawing attention back to immediate concerns. "The Sky Screen revealed several future crew members currently imprisoned in Impel Down. Level Six prisoners. Extremely dangerous individuals."
He produced sketches drawn from memory of the preview images.
"Catarina Devon, the Crescent Moon Hunter. San Juan Wolf, the Colossal Battleship. Vasco Shot, the Heavy Drinker. All Level Six inmates. All shown wearing Blackbeard Pirates colors in the Mary Geoise battle."
Teach's expression shifted from frustrated to calculating. "Level Six prisoners. That's high-quality recruitment. Those three alone would dramatically increase our combat power."
"Indeed," Lafitte agreed. "The problem, of course, is that they're currently imprisoned in the world's most secure facility. The Marine Intelligence Department has already identified them from the preview and increased security. Recruiting them would require..."
"Breaking into Impel Down," Teach finished. "Which the Sky Screen showed happening. Buggy the Clown and Monkey D. Luffy's infiltration. We could potentially capitalize on that chaos."
Several crew members leaned forward, interested despite themselves. Impel Down represented both incredible danger and incredible opportunity.
"The biggest beneficiary of that prison break," Lafitte continued, "appears to be us. Level Six inmates joining our crew. That's not coincidence—that's opportunistic recruitment during catastrophic security failure."
"So we wait for the prison break, then move in during the chaos," Teach mused. "Recruit the strongest prisoners while the guards are distracted. Brilliant. Future me is smarter than I gave him credit for."
"Perhaps," Lafitte said. "Though I should note two additional complications the Sky Screen revealed."
"First: Shiryu of the Rain."
The name made several crew members look up sharply. Shiryu was infamous—the Chief Jailer of Impel Down, known for his sadistic love of killing prisoners. A Marine officer with Admiral-level combat strength who'd been temporarily imprisoned himself for excessive brutality.
"The preview showed him wearing our colors," Lafitte explained. "Suggesting he defects from the Marines and joins us. A valuable recruitment—his strength is undeniable. But..."
"But he just got reinstated," Teach finished. "And now that the Sky Screen showed his future betrayal, the Marines have thrown him back in prison. Preemptive containment."
"Exactly. Magellan is apparently desperate to understand why Shiryu would defect. The concept doesn't fit his understanding of the man's psychology."
Teach laughed darkly. "It's simple. Shiryu loves killing. Gets bored when limited to executing helpless prisoners. Wants stronger opponents, real challenges. The Marines restrict him. We wouldn't. That's the entire appeal."
"The demon sword Raiu hungers for blood," Van Augur observed quietly. "Its wielder probably shares that hunger. Prison jailer is a poor fit for someone who craves combat against worthy opponents."
"Regardless," Lafitte continued, "Shiryu is currently imprisoned again. Level Six, according to reports. Guarded carefully. The Marines are terrified he might facilitate the prison break from inside."
"Which he probably will," Teach grinned. "Can't stop prophecy by locking up the participants. They'll just contribute from inside rather than outside."
"The second complication," Lafitte said, his smile fading slightly, "is more... politically awkward."
He produced another sketch. This one showed a young man with pink hair, feminine features, and refined appearance despite obvious combat capability.
"Coby. Currently enlisted in the Marines as a Chore Boy under Vice Admiral Garp's mentorship. The Sky Screen identified him as our future Tenth Captain."
Silence fell over the room. Even Teach looked uncomfortable.
"Garp's student," someone muttered. "That's... problematic."
"Indeed." Lafitte's voice carried unusual seriousness. "The boy was clearly revealed—age-progressed image showing him as an adult, standing prominently with our crew. His positioning suggests significant authority and combat capability."
"What's his current status?" Teach demanded.
"Imprisoned at Marine Headquarters. Special custody. Sengoku refuses to release him despite repeated pleas from Garp. They're treating him as a future traitor because the Sky Screen showed him with us."
Van Augur looked up from his rifle. "They're punishing him for crimes he hasn't committed? For a future that might not even happen?"
"Apparently." Lafitte's expression was difficult to read. "The irony is that by imprisoning him now, they probably guarantee he'll join us eventually. Create the circumstances that lead to the outcome they're trying to prevent."
"Self-fulfilling prophecy," Teach mused. "The Marines' fear makes their nightmare real."
He thought about this Coby character. Never met him. Didn't know his capabilities or personality. But future Teach had apparently recruited him for the Tenth Captain position—implying significant value.
What makes a Marine Chore Boy worth recruiting at captain level? What potential does future me see that current Marines are too blind to recognize?
"The boy's situation is... unfortunate," Lafitte said carefully. "Reports suggest even Garp has stopped visiting him regularly. His mentor—the Marine Hero himself—appears to be abandoning him over prophecied future betrayal."
"Harsh," someone commented. "Kid hasn't done anything wrong."
"Yet the Marines treat him like a traitor," Lafitte agreed. "Helmepo—his friend and fellow trainee—is apparently the only person still visiting regularly. Everyone else has written him off."
Teach absorbed this information, calculating implications. "So we have a potential recruit who's being alienated by his current organization. Treated like a criminal for future actions he hasn't taken. Abandoned by his mentor. Imprisoned without trial."
"Yes."
"That's... actually perfect recruitment circumstances," Teach realized. "By the time we meet him, he'll have every reason to hate the Marines. Every reason to accept our offer. They're creating our future crewmate through their own paranoia."
It was darkly amusing. The Marines were so terrified of Coby joining the Blackbeard Pirates that they'd created exactly the conditions that would drive him to do so.
"Should we attempt contact?" Van Augur asked. "Plant seeds for future recruitment?"
"No," Teach decided. "Too risky. Sengoku's watching the boy carefully, waiting for us to make exactly that move. We stay away. Let the Marines alienate him completely through their own actions. When the time comes, he'll be ready to defect."
The conversation continued, covering logistics and planning and contingencies. But the essential situation remained unchanged:
The Blackbeard Pirates were in hiding, unable to operate openly. Their future crew members were imprisoned or scattered. Their development had been stunted by premature exposure. And they remained too weak to face the forces hunting them.
The Sky Screen elevated me, Teach thought bitterly. Showed the world my future greatness. But it also trapped me in this limbo between nothing and everything.
Can't move forward without dying. Can't stay hidden forever. Just... stuck. Waiting for circumstances to change.
It was frustrating. Humiliating. A reminder that prophecy could be a curse as easily as a blessing.
Elsewhere in Alabasta, the Straw Hat Pirates faced similar paralysis for different reasons—broke, injured, unable to affect the larger crises around them.
Two crews. Two very different philosophies. Both trapped in the same desert kingdom, waiting for a world that had frozen in anticipation of revelations yet to come.
The difference was that one crew supported each other through the waiting with genuine friendship.
The other just made sure nobody stabbed anyone in the back while circumstances remained unfavorable.
This is what I chose, Teach reminded himself. Power over loyalty. Ambition over brotherhood. Can't complain about loneliness when I deliberately destroyed the alternative.
Outside, the desert wind howled across endless sand. Inside, the Blackbeard Pirates waited—suspicious of each other, calculating their positions, preparing for the future that would either vindicate their choices or destroy them entirely.
Four days remaining until the broadcast.