"What was that about?" Luffy asked, apparently not having paid much attention.
"Just some jerk who thinks having money will stop you from kicking his teeth in," Cherry summed up the situation eloquently.
"Typical," Nami huffed.
"So I just told him that we'd drive his company into bankruptcy, one act of piracy at a time, unless he backed off," Cherry nodded, and received several nods in turn. "Of course, that naturally means he's going to temporarily retreat before making a fool of himself later."
"We might not even still be around then," Robin pointed out.
"I know," Cherry said, taking Robin's hand in her own. "That's why he's going to have a terrible, tragic accident before we leave. An 'act of god' that couldn't possibly be attributed to any person. On an unrelated note; Nami, what's the weather going to be like tonight?"
"It's going to be pretty clear. Why?" Nami raised an eyebrow at her.
"Looks like rain to me," Cherry smiled.
Nami groaned. "Do you have any idea how much work that's going to be?"
"How's a hundred million sound?" Cherry offered.
That gave Nami pause, but then she scowled. "That sounds like pocket change, since we're all filthy stinkin' rich. You're going to have to do better than that."
"Ugh, fine," Cherry tapped her foot and crossed her arms in thought. "How about a shopping trip anywhere in the world? A whole day to spend away all those filthy riches, and I'll even carry it all for you."
"Three days… and throw in a massage!" Nami haggled with a wide, greedy grin.
"What? You can just get a massage on one of the trips, why does it gotta be me?" Cherry questioned. "I'm good, but I'm not the best in the world or anything."
"I don't want to waste my shopping time when I can just get a massage on the ship," Nami shook her head. "Besides, what exactly are you complaining about? You don't want to put your hands all over my body?"
She traced her curves with her hands as she said that and Sanji fainted off to the side.
Cherry shook her head and sighed. She gave Robin a look and said, "This is the problem with youngsters. Every one of them thinks they've got something special."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Nami protested.
"It means if I wanted to cop a feel, my wife is standing right here," Cherry demonstrated by moving behind Robin and getting handsy with her ample bosom.
Brook fainted. Robin gently removed the offending hands and shot a reproachful look at Cherry.
"Ugh, whatever. Forget the massage if you don't want to," Nami relented.
"I didn't say I didn't want to," Cherry clarified with an annoying smile. "I'm just being cheap."
If Nami had rolled her eyes any harder, they might have popped right out of their sockets.
…
"How can there be no information on them?" Beckett asked in barely concealed disbelief.
With a crew and ship that… colorful, it was understandable that he would be confused that nobody knew anything about them. Especially if they had such strange capabilities.
"There is nothing to be found, sir," his loyal assistant, Mercer, insisted. "I am quite familiar with every figure of note in the Cheribbean, and I do not recall these people at all. There are no records in Port Royal about them, either."
Beckett spun in his chair, fist pressed against his chin and foot tapping irritably. "So we cannot arrest them unless they slip up. We don't even have proof that they assaulted me."
Beckett stood abruptly and stepped towards the window of his temporary office, letting the torrent of rain and howling winds soothe him slightly.
"There is always the usual, sir," Mercer suggested.
"Yes, there is that," Beckett admitted. "It could be tricky, though. If you were caught, it could easily come back to bite me."
"I am the very picture of stealth, sir. They shall not hear nor see the slightest hint of me before it is too late," Mercer claimed.
"Very well," Beckett decided. "Do it tonight, and keep it quiet."
"Yes, sir," Mercer gave a shallow bow and a smile, before letting himself out.
Unfortunately, someone was just outside, ready to bother him. Worse still, it wasn't someone he could turn away.
"Governor Swann," Beckett greeted, his voice cold but carefully professional.
"Sir Beckett," Swann greeted curtly. "I'm sure you know what I am here to talk to you about."
"Indeed," Beckett replied. "You are here to discuss how to handle the threats made against my person and my employer earlier today, yes?"
Beckett knew full well that wasn't what he was here about, but it was to his advantage to frame it as such.
"No," Swann predictably denied, clearly angered that he would even suggest as much. "I wish to discuss the arrest of my commodore, and why you never so much as hinted that you planned to do so."
"I do believe that I told you beforehand that I intended to bring all the criminals to justice. Pirates do not have a monopoly on crime, last I checked, Governor," Beckett wagged his silver tongue. "And I should think you would be more upset that coercion was used on behalf of your commodore to have him released, rather than proven innocent in a court of law. That is not a good look."
"I cannot say that I approve, no," Swann admitted, revealing himself as the weak fool that he is. Beckett would never surrender a point like that. "But that is that and this is this! You may have been appointed by his majesty, but you cannot simply go over my head on such things."
"In fact, I can," Beckett countered bluntly, catching the aging man off guard. "His majesty has grown dissatisfied with Port Royal's development since you became its governor. He suspects, even, that you've been withholding taxes…"
"That…! That is absurd!" Swann rejected the notion. Quite reasonably too, since Beckett already knew that Port Royal paid more than its fair share of taxes. Another fact that showed Swann's idiocy.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Beckett responded vaguely. "That is the original reason I came here to investigate. The matter with the pirates only added to my duties. The point is that you are very much not in his majesty's good grace, and as such he will be quite lenient when it comes to my methods."
Swann huffed and blustered, but couldn't manage a single word in his own defense. Beckett could hardly believe that he's come this far in life.
Beckett readied himself to deal the finishing blow in this pathetic excuse for a verbal duel. "Now-"
*crash* *bonk**thump*
The window was smashed apart, sending broken shards of glass scattering across the room.
The culprit responsible was a chunk of hail the size of a cricket ball, which shortly thereafter struck Beckett on the back of his skull.
"Guards! Bring a doctor!" Governor Swann called out hurriedly.
It was some thirty minutes later that they finally got a doctor in to see Beckett. The sudden onset of hail had made things more difficult.
"Dead," the elderly physician declared. "I expect it was instantaneous, what with the way it caved in his skull. Never seen anything like it; a freak accident."
Or, in other words, an act of god.
As for what reason "God" might have deigned to strike down Sir Beckett Cutler? Nobody really needed to guess.