On the other side, after parting ways with Crocodile, Sherlock and the others hid inside a long-abandoned prison cell to hold a strategy meeting.
"Though I am not entirely sure what your President is thinking, just as he said before, our current situation and goals are perfectly aligned."
Sherlock gently pushed up his glasses, his gaze sweeping across the Baroque Works assassins one by one. Meeting the Sorcerer's calm yet profound dark eyes, the somewhat restless anxieties of Miss Doublefinger and the others gradually settled.
"Therefore, let us cooperate."
Hearing this, Robin and Zoro, who had already anticipated as much, showed little reaction. However, a certain cowardly, long-nosed sniper could no longer keep his cool.
"Uh, Sherlock..." Usopp wanted to object, but a single sharp glance from the glasses-wearing man cut him short.
"I know you don't trust former enemies, Usopp, but right now, we have no choice."
Sherlock explained softly, "I have formed a tentative plan. In order to carry it out smoothly, we must rely on their strength."
Though the Baroque Works assassins had lost to the Straw Hat Pirates during the decisive battle at Alubarna, Sherlock didn't dare underestimate them in the slightest. In fact, their specific abilities would play a pivotal role in the plan he had mapped out.
"What do you all say?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly as he gave a small nod, his clear lenses reflecting two flashes of cold, white light.
Miss Doublefinger, Miss Valentine, Mr. 5, and the others swallowed hard. They exchanged looks, and after a moment of hesitation, nodded in unison to the Sorcerer.
Since both their Crocodile boss and their highest-ranking officer had essentially thrown in the towel, this leaderless group of assassins had no better option than to obediently cooperate with the four-eyes' plan.
Furthermore, the assassins had an uncanny feeling that if they refused, the seemingly refined and elegant man in glasses before them might do something exceedingly unfriendly.
"Excellent. That makes things much simpler."
Sherlock nodded with satisfaction. He pulled out a pocket watch to check the time before continuing, "Our time is very limited. Let's exchange information first. Do any of you have useful intelligence regarding this Navarone Fortress, the Marines, or specifically, Rear Admiral Fred 'Black Crow'?"
"Black Crow?!" Usopp suddenly blurted out in surprise, drawing everyone's attention.
Zoro frowned slightly. "What is it, Usopp? Were you captured by that guy earlier?"
"Uh, I was caught by his subordinates, but that's not the point!"
With a strange expression, Usopp pulled a shell out of his pants pocket. Robin and the others recognized it instantly—it was a Tone Dial, a specialty of Skypeia.
"Before I was locked up with Zoro, that Fred guy sought me out privately. Even more bizarrely, he seemed to have mistaken me for a CP5 agent..."
"CP5?"
Robin's expression shifted slightly. She then briefly explained to the group what the Cipher Pol organization actually did. To the Devil Child, who had been on the run for nearly twenty years, the secret intelligence agencies directly under the World Government were all too familiar.
"To think the World Government has a group like that working for them." Miss Valentine, Mr. 5, and Miss Goldenweek all wore expressions of profound awe, not fully understanding it but sensing its weight.
"Cipher Pol... sounds a lot like the nature of our previous line of work," Miss Doublefinger muttered to herself, stroking her smooth chin.
Miss Merry Christmas glanced at a certain long-nosed sniper with disdain and scoffed, "Tch! Mistaking a pathetic specimen like him for a World Government secret agent? Is that Marine Rear Admiral blind?"
"Y-Yeah..." Mr. 4 nodded vigorously in agreement.
Sherlock pondered for a moment before asking, "Usopp, what exactly did Rear Admiral Black Crow say to you?"
"Listen for yourselves." Then, under everyone's astonished gazes, Usopp gently pressed a button on the Tone Dial.
Meanwhile, Fred was in a terrible mood.
Ever since he left the prison, his right eyelid had been twitching nonstop. It felt as though some horrific catastrophe was about to strike, leaving him thoroughly restless.
(Did I forget something important?) The Rear Admiral pondered to himself as he paced back and forth across the room.
(I've already laid out the mission to those CP5 agents perfectly clearly, and the cleaner squad stationed at the dockyard has been notified in advance. All that's left now is to wait for the designated time.)
Fred turned his head to look at the wall clock. The hour and minute hands faithfully displayed the precise time: 3:00 PM, exactly three hours until the plan commenced.
"Three hours..." Rear Admiral Black Crow exhaled a heavy sigh. In a critical juncture like this, let alone three hours, even a single minute felt like agonizing torture.
"Purupurupurupuru..." The familiar ringing of a Den Den Mushi suddenly shattered the silence of the room, sounding incredibly jarring.
Upon hearing the ring, Fred, who had been pacing, practically bolted to his desk as if struck by lightning. Taking a deep breath, he answered the call with utter trepidation.
"Moshi moshi..." Although his long golden bangs obscured the upper half of his face, one could tell solely from his reaction that his expression must be incredibly tense.
"How are things progressing?" A slightly raspy, deep male voice carried an immense weight of authority. It was clear the man on the other end of the Den Den Mushi had long held a position of high power.
"Everything is going smoothly, Father," Fred replied urgently.
It made sense. For an arrogant, privileged son of an official to be terrified to this extent, there was likely no one else in the world besides his old man—the current head of the Falcone family, Old Falcone.
"Everything is going smoothly? Hehehehe..." Old Falcone let out a string of inscrutable laughter.
"I remember you gave me that exact same answer years ago, Fred. And what was the result? You went behind my back and ate the Oil-Oil Fruit!" As he spoke, the Den Den Mushi perfectly mimicked a cold, narrow-eyed expression.
Rear Admiral Fred swallowed hard, thick beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. For a moment, he found himself utterly at a loss for words.
For the longest time, Fred's dream had been to become a Marine Admiral. The reality that all three current Marine Admirals were Logia-type users had given this privileged youth the illusion that only Logia users were qualified to become Admirals.
To become an Admiral, he first had to get his hands on a Logia Devil Fruit!
But how could a Logia, the rarest of the three Devil Fruit classes, be obtained so easily? Even with the immense influence of the Falcone family, it had taken exhaustive effort to procure just one. And of course, it hadn't been procured for Fred to eat...
Yet, that very Oil-Oil Fruit—which had cost countless lives and resources—was stealthily devoured by a certain troublesome son harboring dreams of becoming an Admiral, nearly causing Old Falcone to cough up blood in pure rage.
"It won't happen this time, Father, I promise you!"
Fred declared in a firm, loud voice, "I will absolutely bring back a Logia Devil Fruit this time!"
"Hmph, enough. I doubt you'd dare to eat another Devil Fruit anyway." Old Falcone's tone softened slightly.
"Though I don't know where you get this absolute confidence from, remember this, Fred—this is the final chance I am giving you."
Phew... Fred quietly let out a long breath of relief. Based on his years of experience, his strict father had finally entered a calmer state.
"Yes, I understand. By the way, Father, I have a question." A thought struck Rear Admiral Fred, prompting him to instinctively ask a question that had plagued him for years.
"Why have you always been so obsessed with obtaining a Logia Devil Fruit?"
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