"Whoosh—"
Like a silent predator of the abyss, the Nautilus altered its course without a sound, its sleek, dark hull cutting through the deep-sea currents as it powered towards the judicial island of Enies Lobby.
The crushing pressure and eternal darkness of the ocean floor were nothing to the steel behemoth.
Inside, the atmosphere was calm and focused.
"And that's the long and short of it," Kuzan finished, summarizing the intel he'd just received for Mike.
Mike leaned back into the plush sofa, a thoughtful silence settling over him.
He stared at the ceiling, the gears in his mind turning at a furious pace.
It was the butterfly effect in action.
After he'd taken control of Skypiea and Kuzan erased Mock Town from the map, the Straw Hat crew's journey had been irrevocably altered.
They never made it to the sky island.
Instead, their log pose had guided them onto a new, unforeseen adventure, which had inevitably led them to a collision course with Cipher Pol 9.
And at the center of that storm was Spandam, the incompetent, power-hungry director of CP9.
The man's ambition was only matched by his foolishness, and his obsessive hunt for Nico Robin meant a clash with Luffy was bound to happen, one way or another.
Mike had to give the CP9 agents their due; they were all masters of the Six Powers, honed into living weapons by the World Government.
But against the Straw Hats? A crew blessed by the narrative gods and powered by sheer, indomitable willpower?
The outcome was a foregone conclusion.
And now, the World Government was showing its true colors once again.
Cold, unforgiving, and utterly ruthless.
No investigation, no second chances.
Defeat was their only crime, and for that, they were branded as failures.
In an instant, the government's most loyal assassins were stripped of their titles and declared wanted criminals, forced to run and hide like stray dogs.
For Mike, this wasn't a tragedy; it was a golden opportunity.
This was the absolute perfect moment to step in.
If he could get them on his side, his problem with a lack of skilled, trustworthy manpower would be solved for a good long while.
"Heh, so those CP9 guys really got screwed, huh?" Smoker remarked, rubbing the stubble on his chin.
He let out a short, cynical laugh after hearing Kuzan's report.
"All those years of brutal training, dedicating their entire lives to the World Government…"
"Only to be tossed out like yesterday's garbage," Kuro finished, his voice a flat monotone from behind his glasses.
"It is a ruthlessly pragmatic approach."
"Ararara, that's just how those old geezers in charge operate," Kuzan said with a lazy shrug, as if discussing the weather.
"To the Five Elders, anything that has lost its usefulness isn't just worthless…" he added, his tone taking on a slightly chilling edge, "…it's an eyesore that needs to be erased before it becomes an inconvenience."
He turned his gaze to Mike, a curious glint in his half-lidded eyes.
"You had me keeping tabs on them for a while now, Mike. You planning on recruiting them?"
"Yeah," Mike admitted without hesitation.
"Hmm…" Kuzan mused, stroking his chin. "Not a bad idea, actually. Now that the World Government has hung them out to dry, they've got nowhere else to go."
He nodded slowly.
"If you pull it off, they'd make for some pretty decent muscle. Besides," he continued, "every single one of them is an elite when it comes to following orders. Once you secure their loyalty, you'll never have to worry about them second-guessing you. I've got no problem with it. I can put in a good word for you."
Kuzan's approval was straightforward and absolute.
So far, Mike's instincts and decisions hadn't led them astray.
The admiral's job, as he saw it, was to simply provide the support his ridiculously ambitious friend needed.
"Kuzan-san, that's all I needed to hear," Mike said with a satisfied grin.
He reached over and picked up the Video Transponder Snail, dialing Kizaru's personal number.
The Den Den Mushi rang twice before the connection clicked open.
Almost instantly, Kizaru's signature, drawn-out, and impossibly lazy voice oozed from the speaker.
"Yooooo~ Mike-kun~"
A moment later, the snail's projected screen flickered to life, showing Kizaru's smirking face.
He was leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up on a desk buried under a literal mountain of paperwork.
"My dear aide, have you finally remembered your poor, hardworking superior, all alone and abandoned here at headquarters?"
"Cut the drama, old man," Mike said, completely ignoring Kizaru's theatrics.
"I need a favor."
"A favor, you say?" Kizaru's tone stretched out even longer, dripping with feigned curiosity.
"Ooooh, what could it possibly be? If even you need help, it must be something truly scaaaary."
"The current members of CP9 have been thrown away by the World Government," Mike said, getting straight to the point.
"I want to take them under my command."
"Oh?" Kizaru's expression shifted instantly from lazy to playful.
He leaned closer to the screen, scrutinizing Mike.
"Those little government rats from CP9? Aren't they wanted criminals now? Yoooo~ are you planning to poach directly from the World Government?"
'This kid wants the World Government's dogs?' Kizaru thought.
'Interesting. If I make the request personally, it would probably go through. I have a decent relationship with Saint Saturn. Asking him for a few discarded agents wouldn't be a problem…'
'BUT!'
'This brat! He's been out gallivanting across the seas, having the time of his life, and he doesn't call, he doesn't write! The only time I hear from him is when he needs something! If I just roll over and agree, what happens to my dignity as an Admiral of the Navy?!'
"Well, you know, I'm just a simple salaryman," Kizaru said with an exaggerated shrug, his voice laced with mockery.
"A lonely, overworked superior… I wouldn't dare meddle in such frightening affairs!"
'Come on, kid. Apologize nicely.'
'Then get your butt here and finish your paperwork. And… promise to take me with you next time you go have fun. Then we'll talk.'
Mike stared at Kizaru's sly old face on the screen and knew exactly what game the admiral was playing.
'Heh. Time to bring out the big guns. The Kizaru-killer.'
Mike simply clapped his hands once.
Understanding the signal immediately, Kuro stepped forward and silently placed two large, reinforced briefcases on the table in front of the Video Transponder Snail.
Thud.
With two sharp clicks, Kuro opened the cases.
Inside, stacked in neat, tight bricks, was a fortune in Belly.
The light from the submarine's cabin reflected off the bills, creating a dazzling, almost holy glow.
On the other end of the line, Kizaru's expression froze.
His trademark lazy smirk vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock.
His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull as he stared, utterly mesmerized, at the two open cases of cash.
Puff—
Mike leaned back, lit a fresh cigar, and leisurely enjoyed the admiral's stunned reaction.
"One billion Belly," Mike said, exhaling a perfect smoke ring.
His tone was as casual as if he were ordering a drink.
"A little something for your troubles."
Ahem!
Kizaru cleared his throat, his eyes darting from the money to Mike, then back to the money.
He pointed a shaky finger at himself through the screen.
"For… for me?"
"Mhm," Mike confirmed. "For you."
Instantly, Kizaru's face split into a grin so wide it looked painful.
All traces of laziness and mockery were gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated avarice.
But before he could even form a sentence, Mike added another line, his voice utterly nonchalant.
"Every month. Starting now. Same amount."
"???"
"!!!"
Kizaru stared at Mike as if he'd just grown a second head.
His gaze snapped back to the two cases of shimmering cash, his mind struggling to process what he'd just heard.
His voice came out as a trembling whisper.
"Every… every month… one billion Belly?"
A small smirk played on Mike's lips.
'That's right, old man. And this is just the beginning. You need to think bigger.'
Even after giving a cut to Alabasta, he still had a hoard of gold worth hundreds of billions.
His new business venture at Fish-Man Island was already a money-printing machine.
A mere billion Belly was what that operation could churn out in two days.
Once the replica submarines were ready for salvaging operations across the Four Seas and Paradise, and once his collaboration with Whitebeard in the New World got going… Belly would just be a high score to him.
"Mike, you little…!"
On the other end of the Den Den Mushi, Kizaru snapped to attention, his back ramrod straight.
Ahem!
"Tell me…" he lowered his voice, leaning in so close to the receiver it looked like he was about to kiss it, "…with this kind of money… which one of the Five Elders are you planning to take out?"
Mike chuckled.
"Nothing that dramatic," he said, exhaling another cloud of smoke.
"For now, it's just about the CP9 issue."
"CP9? Consider it done!" Kizaru boomed, his enthusiasm electric.
"I'm close with Saint Saturn—it's no problem at all! I will handle it perfectly for you!" He paused, then his voice dropped again, turning slick and suggestive.
"But… between you and me, this old man happens to know that there are a few agents in CP0 who are really something else!"
He leaned in even closer, winking conspiratorially.
"There's this one woman… an absolute knockout! Her figure is simply stunning! I saw her once in Mary Geoise—what a vision of grace and beauty!"
"Oh?" Mike raised an eyebrow. He had a pretty good idea who Kizaru was talking about.
'Stussy? If it's her… she really is something else.'
"You know her well?" Mike asked, playing along.
"Very well!" Kizaru declared, his sleazy grin making him look like a back-alley information broker.
"You just get the money ready, Mike-kun."
"Even if I didn't know her before, for this kind of cash, I'd get to know her real well now!"
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