Chapter 26: The Digimon and the Fleet

(Victor’s POV)

The Revolutionary safehouse on the neighboring island was nothing more than a dusty, boarded-up tavern.

Inside, huddled together on a single frayed mattress in the corner, were five little girls.

They ranged in age from five to ten.

Two of them were human sisters clinging tightly to each other.

Another was a human girl with a mop of messy red hair.

Beside them sat a young girl from the Long-Arm tribe, her extra elbow joints tucked defensively against her chest, and a tiny, absolutely terrified Rabbit Mink whose long ears were pinned flat against her head.

They had seen the worst of the Centaurea civil war, and the shadow of the World Government’s slave trade hung heavily over them.

When I walked into the room, my dark clothes and the natural, heavy aura of a bounty hunter made them flinch violently.

The Rabbit Mink let out a quiet whimper, hiding behind the oldest sister.

I stopped in my tracks, immediately dialing my Haki back to absolute zero.

I crouched down, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but I knew I wasn’t exactly the most approachable guy in the world right now.

Before I could awkwardly try to introduce myself, Gammamon waddled out from behind my leg.

He didn’t try to look tough.

He dropped his heavy cloak, revealing his round, white, slightly chubby form and the bright blue scarf tied around his neck.

He tilted his head, his large yellow eyes wide and innocent, and let out a soft, trilling chirp.

“Hi,” Gammamon said, his voice gentle and highly pitched.

He waddled over to the mattress, pulling a small pouch from his waist.

He picked out a piece of candied mango and held it out in his stubby, three-clawed paw.

“I’m Gammamon.

I have snacks.

Do you guys like mangoes?”

The girls stared at the talking, bipedal dinosaur.

The sheer absurdity of the cute white creature broke their panic.

The oldest sister hesitated, then slowly reached out and took the mango.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome!” Gammamon beamed.

He looked back at me, then back at the girls.

“You don’t have to be scared of Victor.

He looks grumpy, but he’s really nice.” Gammamon paused, looking around the room until his eyes locked onto a massive, solid iron safe sitting in the corner of the tavern.

“And we are really, really strong.”

Gammamon casually walked over to the five-hundred-pound iron safe.

He reached out with one small white paw, grabbed the thick iron door, and squeezed.

SCREEECH.

The thick iron buckled and crumpled under his grip like it was made of wet tin foil.

He effortlessly tore the door off its hinges, crumpled the metal into a tight ball, and set it gently on the floor.

He turned back to the girls, dusting his paws off with a bright smile.

“Victor and I punch mountains.

Nobody is ever going to put you in a cage again.

We promise.”

The girls’ jaws hit the floor.

The terror in their eyes completely vanished, instantly replaced by pure, unadulterated awe.

A standard galleon would have taken a month to reach the Calm Belt rendezvous point.

With the Sky-Rift Roc carrying our custom gondola, the flight would only take a few days.

But I didn’t want these girls to spend a month cooped up in a cabin after everything they had been through.

They were kids.

They deserved a childhood.

So, I turned the transport mission into a vacation.

We flew for a few hours a day, but spent the vast majority of our time island-hopping through the safest, most vibrant islands in the South Blue.

We landed in quiet coastal towns where the girls could run through the markets without fear, eating absurd amounts of ice cream and sweet pastries funded by my massive bounty payouts.

To replace their ragged, soot-stained clothes, I summoned the Silken Widow-Maker.

Using her Haki-infused silk, I had the giant jade spider weave them custom, practically indestructible dresses.

The Mink girl got a bright yellow sundress that allowed her to jump freely, the Long-Arm girl received a flowing blue tunic tailored for her extra joints; the two sisters got matching emerald green and purple dresses; and the red-haired girl got a comfortable, deep crimson jumper.

Every night, we camped in lush, safe jungles.

I used the Sovereign to create ice for cold fruit drinks, and the Widow-Maker wove massive, bouncy, incredibly soft hammocks in the trees for the girls to sleep in.

Gammamon became their favorite jungle gym, letting them climb all over him and use his horns for ring-toss games.

By the time we finally reached the rendezvous island near the Calm Belt, a full week before the Kuja Pirates were scheduled to arrive, the girls were laughing, tanned, and completely stress-free.

We landed on a pristine, white-sand beach, treating the early arrival as the ultimate beach day.

(Jasmine’s POV)

Halfway across the world, deep in the Grand Line, the mood was decidedly less relaxing.

I stepped off the transport ship and onto the hidden docks of the Revolutionary Army’s Grand Line forward base.

I was exhausted.

Being cooped up in the hull of a ship for weeks while trying to suppress the ambient electricity in my body always left me feeling restless and irritable.

I slung the heavy leather strap of Coil Mjolnir over my shoulder, ready to hit the training yard to burn off some energy, when a communications officer intercepted me.

“Commander Jasmine,” he saluted nervously.

“Notice from South Blue Headquarters.

Koala requested you schedule an urgent Den Den Mushi call the moment you arrived.”

I frowned, a spike of worry hitting my chest.

Koala was the commanding officer of the Centaurea rebellion.

If she was calling me on an urgent line, something had gone horribly wrong.

“Book the next available encrypted slot,” I ordered.

It took until the next morning to secure the line.

I sat in a secure comms room, tapping my fingers anxiously against the desk until the white Den Den Mushi clicked, its eyes shifting to match Koala’s.

“Koala?

I’m here,” I said quickly.

“What happened?

Did the Royalists break the siege?”

“No, Jas, the siege is fine,” Koala’s voice crackled through the speaker.

She sounded strange.

Her voice was thick, like she had been crying, but there was a lightness to it I hadn’t heard in a long time.

“I have some…

really important news for you.

I’m sending a fax right now.”

The heavy machine next to the snail whirred to life.

A sheet of glossy paper slowly rolled out of the slot.

“Okay, I’m grabbing it,” I said, pulling the paper loose.

“What am I looking at……”

The words died in my throat.

Coil Mjolnir slipped from my grip, hitting the stone floor with a deafening CLANG that rattled the desk.

I stared at the paper.

It was a Marine Bounty Hunter registration file.

But the face staring back at me…

the dark hair, the sharp, exasperated eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw.

My breath hitched.

The ambient electricity in the room flared, causing the overhead lights to flicker violently.

“Koala,” I whispered, my hands trembling so hard the paper shook.

“What is this?

Is this a sick joke?

Tell me this is just a doppelganger.

Tell me the World Government isn’t trying to mess with my head.”

“It’s not a doppelganger, Jas,” Koala’s voice broke into a full sob over the receiver.

“He’s alive.

Bhai is alive.

We found him.”

“No,” I choked out, tears instantly welling in my eyes.

“No, it’s impossible.

I saw him disappear.

The ‘incident’ took him…”

“I confirmed it myself,” Koala insisted, crying happily on the other end.

“He has the Fairy Tail guild mark on the inside of his arm, exactly where you said it would be!

And he acts exactly like you described.

He’s terrifying to our enemies, but the second he realized we were family, he just hugged me.

He’s really here, Jas.”

A dam broke inside my chest.

Eighteen months of suffocating guilt, of night terrors, of mourning the brother I thought I had dragged into oblivion, it all shattered.

I collapsed into my chair, burying my face in my hands, and began to sob uncontrollably.

The heavy iron door to the comms room burst open.

Palmon, a towering, green, bipedal plant with a massive pink tropical flower blooming on her head, rushed into the room, her root-like feet slapping against the stone.

“Jasmine!

I sensed your electricity spiking!

Are you hurt?!” Palmon cried, rushing over to my side.

I threw my arms around Palmon’s thick green torso, burying my face in her shoulder.

“He’s alive, Palmon,” I cried, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

“My anchor is here!

My bhai is alive!”

Palmon gasped, her vines wrapping around me in a tight, joyous hug.

“Victor?!

Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“He’s doing a transport mission for me right now,” Koala sniffled through the snail.

“He’s moving some orphans to the Calm Belt.

The second he drops them off, he’s heading straight to the Grand Line to meet you.”

I froze.

The tears stopped abruptly.

I slowly pulled back from Palmon, staring at the Den Den Mushi.

The room was pin-drop silent.

“Wait,” I said, my voice suddenly very small.

“He’s coming here?”

“Yes!” Koala cheered.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

I swallowed hard.

“Koala…

does he know about my bounty poster?”

“Oh, yeah,” Koala chuckled.

“That’s actually how he found out you were here.

He saw your three-hundred-million Beri wanted poster at a Marine Base.”

A wave of pure, comedic panic violently crashed over me.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, my hands flying to my hair.

I started pacing the room frantically.

“Oh my god.

He knows.

He knows I’m a globally wanted terrorist.

He knows my bounty is higher than Crocodile’s!

He’s going to kill me!”

Palmon tilted her large flower head, looking utterly confused.

“Jasmine, why are you panicking?

You are the Thunder Maiden of the Revolutionary Army!

You shatter galleons with a single swing!

What could your brother possibly do to you?”

“Palmon, you don’t understand!” I shrieked, gripping the sides of my head.

“He won’t care if I’m the Thunder Maiden!

He wouldn’t care if I was the Thunder Empress of the universe!

He’s my big brother!

If he decides I need to be grounded for becoming a terrorist, absolutely nothing on this planet can stop him!

I’m going to be grounded for a decade!”

From the Den Den Mushi, Koala let out a long, long sigh.

Beside me, Palmon just patted my shoulder sympathetically.

(Victor’s POV)

The beach on the edge of the Calm Belt was supposed to be empty.

It was supposed to be a quiet week of building sandcastles and waiting for the Kuja Pirates to arrive.

Instead, our peaceful afternoon was rudely interrupted.

Sailing into the pristine, crescent-moon bay was a massive, five-galleon pirate armada.

Hundreds of heavily armed men swarmed the decks.

They were a notorious South Blue fleet looking for a place to lay low and repair their ships.

From the deck of the flagship, the brutal Pirate Captain peered through his spyglass.

He spotted the massive, metallic Sky-Rift Roc resting on the sand, the luxury teardrop carriage, and, most importantly, the five young girls playing in the surf.

“Exotic races!” the Pirate Captain roared, his voice carrying over the water.

“A Mink and a Long-Arm!

Capture the girls!

We’ll sell them to the World Nobles for a fortune, and strip that metal bird for parts!

Fire a warning volley!”

Three cannons boomed.

The iron balls splashed into the water fifty yards from the shore, sending plumes of water into the air.

The girls screamed, dropping their sand buckets and sprinting up the beach, huddling terrified behind the carriage.

I didn’t panic.

I didn’t even draw a weapon.

I just let out a tired sigh, tapped my disk, and summoned the Silken Widow-Maker for a few seconds.

The jade spider rapidly wove six incredibly comfortable, reclining beach chairs and a large sun umbrella onto the sand.

“Girls, come here,” I called out calmly.

The girls cautiously peaked out from behind the carriage.

I ushered them into the comfortable woven chairs, handed each of them a chilled cup of mango juice from our cooler, and sat down in the center chair, crossing my legs.

I looked over at Gammamon, who was currently glaring at the pirate fleet, his stubby tail twitching with annoyance.

“You want this one, or should I?” I asked casually, taking a sip of my juice.

Gammamon cracked his knuckles.

“I’ll take it.

I haven’t punched anything big in weeks.”

The pirates on the ships burst into laughter, pointing at the tiny white creature marching down to the water’s edge.

Gammamon didn’t care.

He closed his eyes.

A pulse of raw, digital energy shattered the air.

A towering pillar of roaring red fire erupted from the sand, completely engulfing Gammamon.

The heat was so intense it instantly turned the wet sand beneath him into glass.

The pirates stopped laughing.

The flames dispersed, blown away by a shockwave of sheer power.

Standing on the shoreline was no longer a small, chubby white dinosaur.

It was BetelGammamon.

He was massive, a bipedal, fiercely muscular red triceratops-warrior standing over ten feet tall.

Heavy crimson armor plated his chest and shoulders, and his three horns glowed with a terrifying, incandescent heat.

“Fire!” the Pirate Captain screamed in panic.

Dozens of cannons fired at once.

A wall of heavy iron balls hurdled toward the beach.

BetelGammamon didn’t dodge.

He stepped forward and caught the lead cannonballs with his bare, clawed hands.

The iron instantly glowed white-hot and melted into liquid slag, dripping harmlessly through his fingers onto the sand.

“Whoa!” the Mink girl gasped, leaning forward in her beach chair, her juice forgotten.

BetelGammamon roared, the sound shaking the palm trees behind us.

His right fist ignited with a blinding, condensed sphere of solar fire.

“Sol Blow!”

He punched the air.

A massive fireball shot across the bay, slamming directly into the hull of the lead galleon.

The explosion was deafening.

The ship’s hull completely vaporized, the mast collapsing into the ocean in a shower of burning splinters.

“Get ’em, Mr.

Dinosaur!” the oldest sister cheered, throwing her hands in the air.

BetelGammamon didn’t wait for them to recover.

His powerful legs flexed, and he launched himself off the beach like a red missile.

He landed with a cratering THUD squarely on the deck of the flagship.

It wasn’t a fight.

It was cinematic pest control.

BetelGammamon swept his massive tail, snapping the mainmast like a dry twig.

He waded through the pirates, effortlessly tossing grown men into the ocean by the dozens.

Swords shattered against his crimson scales.

Flintlock bullets melted before they even touched his skin.

He grabbed two pirates by the collars, knocked their heads together with a hollow clunk, and casually tossed them overboard.

Sitting in my beach chair, I sipped my mango juice, providing color commentary for the girls.

“See that?” I pointed as BetelGammamon clotheslined a pirate captain.

“That’s excellent form.

Always follow through on the swing.”

The girls were practically vibrating with excitement, pressing their hands to their faces in awe, cheering at the top of their lungs as the giant fire-dinosaur systematically dismantled an entire armada.

In less than five minutes, all five galleons were reduced to sinking, burning driftwood, and hundreds of pirates were frantically swimming for their lives out toward the open ocean.

The bay was completely cleared.

BetelGammamon leaped off the sinking flagship, landing gracefully on the beach.

In a flash of white light, he reverted back to his small, chubby, white form.

He waddled back up the beach, shaking a bit of sand off his scarf, and looked up at me.

“That was fun,” Gammamon chirped, his stomach letting out a loud rumble.

“What’s for dinner?”

Word Count: 2650

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