WC: Marvel Journey

… Aidan Quinn

There were a few very clear — and a few not-so-clear — reasons why I picked One Piece as our vacation destination.

More specifically, Alabasta.

First… I'm a fan. A real one. The kind who knows the moves, the arcs, the sagas, the deaths. Visiting this world was one of those long-time fantasies I knew I'd eventually fulfill once I became a Contractor.

One Piece has something most stories don't: soul.

A kind of charm that's hard to explain, but impossible to ignore.

Second reason? All for One.

The power list in this world is insane. The Akuma no Mi — Devil Fruits that grant unique abilities — are a multiversal buffet. And if my stealing ability worked on them… especially the Logia types? That would be like pulling legendary cards in a deck where everyone else is stuck with commons.

And lastly — and definitely the most important — Nico Robin.

Yeah, the dark, intelligent archaeologist with a body that defies physics and logic. A woman with a tragic past and eyes that never give away everything.

I knew the exact point in the timeline when I had a shot at capturing her: before she joined the Straw Hats.

After that? Forget it. She gets attached to the crew, builds trust, becomes loyal.

So yeah — I crossed the multiverse just to get a chance at capturing Nico Robin.

And you know what?

I'm proud of it.

Any man with taste would be.

…

The heat in Alabasta was brutal, and the mix of spices and hot sand clung to your skin. Rainbase's streets were buzzing with merchants shouting deals, colorful rugs spread across the ground, and fabric canopies fluttering in the breeze like unclaimed flags from uncharted lands.

My kind of place.

We were walking around. Ororo and Jean had given in to the local fashion — flowing fabrics, daring cuts, metal accents that jingled with every step. Outfits designed to awaken primitive instincts. I commented, of course. Jean laughed and tilted her head. Ororo just said the heat justified it.

But I saw how they walked.

Rogue was by my side, legs out in loose cotton shorts, hair up in a messy bun, eyes sharp. And Raven, as always… dressed in black. Totally out of place in all that sunlight and gold — in a way that somehow made everyone look at her even more.

And that's when trouble found us.

Three guys stepped out of an alley like they'd rehearsed the entrance. Dressed in typical desert gear, but with details that gave them away — stylized sun symbols stitched into their leather, red bands on their left arms, and swords way too polished to be just decorative.

Baroque Works.

Probably mid-tier agents. Maybe part of the "200 Billion" squad — the ones assigned to regional surveillance and sniffing out rebellion.

"Hey…" said the first one, the leader — a big guy with a shark grin. "What are you? Traders? Travelers? Pirates? Marines playing dress-up?"

"We're tourists on vacation", I replied with my best infomercial smile.

The second one — skinnier, ferret eyes — scanned the girls. "Tourists walk around with women like that? Interesting."

Jean slowly crossed her arms like she was prepping to melt his brain with a stare. Ororo sighed. Raven stopped walking.

Rogue glanced at me like she was asking if it was time to put someone through a wall.

"I don't like the way they're looking at us", she said bluntly.

The third guy, clearly the muscle, stepped forward. "Relax, sweetheart. We're just trying to be welcoming. Pretty girls are rare around here…"

Ah.

There it was.

Background characters being exactly as dumb as I expected.

A grin spread across my face. The kind that said very clearly how much fun I was about to have.

"Let's make this simple", I said, folding my arms. "We're tourists, not interested in being harassed by armed extras. And you guys just interrupted a lovely stroll and woke up my homicidal sense of humor."

They looked at each other. The leader tried to hold the intimidating tone.

"You've got a funny way of asking to get your ass kicked."

"Actually…" I tilted my head a bit, "… I've got a funny way of warning people before I break them."

Silence. Just enough to let that tension crackle in the air.

Raven adjusted her coat. Jean rolled her neck. Ororo crossed her arms. Rogue cracked her knuckles.

"Last chance, boys", I said, stepping forward. "Walk away or find out what happens when we lose our patience."

They moved.

Wrong choice.

The big guy reached for something on his back — a club, maybe — and that was all I needed.

The world compressed and expanded, and in the next instant, I was in front of him.

Hand to chest.

One strike.

That's it.

The hit launched him into a fruit stand with the sound of wood splintering, fruit flying, and a vendor screaming in outrage.

The other two paled. One of them lifted a weapon, but Raven was no longer where she'd been — her shadow now behind him.

Literally.

Jean raised a finger. "I think you two should run."

And they did — like their lives depended on it. Which, to be fair… they probably did.

Ororo sighed. "You can't help it, can you?"

"Of course not", I said, laughing. "Avoidance is for sensible people."

Rogue gave me a pat on the shoulder. "You love this chaos, don't you?"

"I don't look for trouble…" I paused dramatically, "… but I won't ignore a desperate cry for help disguised as macho posturing."

Jean snorted. "Idiot."

"Charming. The word you're looking for is charming."

We kept walking through the market like nothing had happened.

Because to us?

It was just another stroll.

...

We were still laughing — Jean teasing my ego, Ororo saying she expected at least one full market before the next round of chaos, and Rogue tossing a date at me that I almost caught in my mouth — when I noticed it.

The shift in steps around us, the air changing. Like a choreographed dance nobody had rehearsed, but everyone somehow knew how it would end.

Baroque Works again.

But this time, with backup.

The three thugs from earlier had returned — now with about ten more of their friends, all rocking the same unnecessarily flashy outfits and trying to look dangerous with makeshift weapons, merchant swords, and fake tough-guy smiles.

The leader — the one I'd thrown into the fruit stall — still had bits of papaya stuck in his hair.

"You guys really know how to make enemies fast, huh?" said a new guy, taller, with the number 207 stitched onto his robe. "You attacked Baroque Works agents. That gives us authority to detain you. And…" He paused, glancing at Jean, then Rogue, then Ororo with eyes I really wanted to rip out of his skull.

One thing to note: he didn't seem to have the guts to look at Raven.

Maybe there was still a shred of intelligence left in that tiny brain of his.

"… confiscate your belongings."

Ah.

I sighed and looked up at the sky.

"You guys really know how to make it personal."

Jean cracked her neck. Rogue raised her fists, already bouncing slightly like she was warming up. Ororo took a subtle step to the side, stirring the air around her. Raven crossed her arms — which was basically the signal that someone was about to vanish without knowing how.

And me? I took one step forward.

Cursed energy pulsed beneath my skin. A faint blue glow traced across my arms, like glowing cracks in dark marble. Just the basic reinforcement — no Infinity, no space-warping, no domain. Just raw, One Piece–style brawl strength.

The ground creaked under my feet.

"Gentlemen", I said, flashing my best charming villain smile. "We tried being polite. Tried walking around, sampling dates, maybe buying some spices…"

I leaned forward just a bit.

"But since you're asking for action— who am I to deny a little entertainment?"

They moved.

I moved faster.

The first guy was quick… but I was direct. A simple cross punch, amped with enough energy to knock over a small wagon.

The impact was crisp. He flew backward, spinning through the air before crashing into a pile of sandbags.

Another came from behind with a dagger, thinking he was being slick.

Raven appeared behind him with a whispered "boo" in his ear and a neck strike that dropped him like a marionette with cut strings.

Jean lifted her hands — three guys levitated before hitting the ground. She twisted her wrist and spun them like tops, flinging them straight into two of their buddies.

Ororo sent a wind burst to knock the weapon out of one guy's hands and kicked another with flawless precision, like it was all part of some elemental ballet.

And Rogue?

Rogue did it her way — punch, elbow, knee, and when one of them touched her… nothing happened.

She smiled.

"Cool, huh?" she said, before driving her fist into his chin with a CRACK that almost made me applaud.

I took care of the last one. The big guy. 207.

He squared up, slashing with a rough steel sword, spinning like he'd had some training.

I let him hit me.

Or rather… try.

The blade stopped inches from my shoulder, frozen mid-swing. Infinity triggered — just for dramatic effect.

"What the fu—"

"HAX."

The kick to the gut lifted him off the ground and launched him into a fabric stall that collapsed around him like a curtain of shame.

The fight ended in silence, aside from groans and the sounds of goons being dragged out of the wreckage.

Rogue cracked her knuckles. "That was… really satisfying."

Jean wiped her hands with a napkin. "Not the kind of tourism I expected, but I'm starting to enjoy it."

Ororo smiled, brushing wind-tossed hair back.

Raven reappeared at my side. "If more show up, I can make one vanish for good."

"Let's keep that card in our back pocket", I said, running a hand through my hair.

The city around us was watching now.

Some were scared.

Others were impressed.

Then the street froze.

A weird silence.

The last few soldiers backed off… and someone else showed up.

Because of course someone had to show up now.

White coat with a high collar, round glasses, bored expression. Tall and lean. The kind of guy who didn't seem to sweat — even in a desert. The Baroque Works emblem in gold on his right glove.

"Number 6", he said, brushing a bit of dust off his sleeve. "I was told someone's been disturbing the local peace."

"Well, look at that. The manager's here", I crossed my arms. "You guys can drop the act and just start the fight, please."

"You're confident", he said. "But you shouldn't be. You've caused trouble."

"Actually, I caused some fun."

He rotated his arm.

Then came the attack.

A straight palm slicing the air like a blade.

I dodged, sliding my foot through the sand.

I felt the wind tear right past me.

Okay. So this was serious.

"Nice", I said, while my fists began glowing with compressed cursed energy. Not Infinity. Not Red. Not even Blue.

Just good old-fashioned reinforcement. Simple and brutal.

He came at me again, and this time, I met him halfway.

Feet sinking into the sand, arms rotating at the right moment.

Our punches collided with a shockwave.

Sand kicked up in a whirlwind.

The ground shook.

And for a second, there was no sound — just the tension between impact and aftermath.

A moment later, he slid backward.

I stood there, smiling.

"Fist-to-fist conversations…" I cracked my neck, "… there's a certain beauty to it. But just so you know, I'm terrible at losing arguments."

He didn't reply. Just wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and rushed in again.

Perfect. Because violence is one of my favorite languages.

He moved like an arrow. A white blur, crossing the gap in two steps, palm extended — aimed at my chest like he wanted to rip my heart out.

I smiled.

Planted my feet. The cursed energy veins over my arm flared outward — the stuff shaping my fist like a living steel gauntlet, humming with power.

At the last second, I twisted my torso.

His strike grazed by, the wind from his palm whistling sharp like a thrown dagger.

I answered with a simple hook, but one packed with enough force to kick up a wall of sand as it exploded against his side.

He flew like a puppet with its strings cut.

Number 6 slammed into one of the decorative stone pillars by the edge of the market. The structure cracked with a dry snap. He dropped to his knees right after, panting, glasses hanging crooked off his nose.

"You good, dude?" I asked, walking toward him. "Want to go again? I promise I'll take it easy."

He stood slowly and spat blood, tossing his glasses to the ground.

His eyes were narrow now — full of irritation.

"You'll regret this."

Ah, there it is. The classic line.

I raised my fist.

"Please! But since my girls are watching… I'm gonna show off a little~"

This time he rushed in with a flurry — palms, kicks, elbows. Fast, fluid, relentless.

But predictable.

Powerful? Maybe. For the average half of this side of sea.

But I was playing in another league.

I weaved, blocked, turned.

Not overly technical — just rhythmic.

And then he made the mistake — too wide a step, center of gravity shifted forward — and I saw it.

The timing.

The opening.

I felt cursed energy condense in my fist.

Milliseconds stretched.

The air warped, like the world was holding its breath.

Then—

Black Flash.

The sound wasn't impact. It was rupture.

Sand exploded like a bomb had gone off in the street. Number 6's body launched through a whole vendor stall and didn't stop until it smashed into a distant stone column — which, of course, collapsed right after.

Didn't look like he'd be getting up from that...

Locals peeked out from windows and doorways, wide-eyed and speechless. Ororo and Jean stood nearby. Jean bit her lower lip, eyes gleaming. Ororo had her arms crossed but wasn't even trying to hide her smirk.

Rogue whistled, clearly impressed. Raven… just kept watching, like she already knew how it would end.

I stretched, cracked my fingers.

"Solid 7 for effort, but dude needs to work on lateral defense."

Number 6 didn't answer.

Knocked out… or just unconscious from sheer embarrassment.

Doesn't matter.

What did matter was that "Baroque Works" had officially made my list of favorite problems.

And I hadn't even started looking for Robin yet.

… Nico Robin

The heat still shimmered off the sand as Nico Robin stepped through the gates of Rainbase.

Her cloak fluttered gracefully against her slim figure, eyes half-lidded under the shadow of her hat. She had left the outskirts of Nanohana after hearing that Princess Vivi had arrived with the Straw Hat Pirates — a curious sight, though not entirely unexpected.

Robin was good at anticipating moves. Too good, actually.

And that was a problem.

"The princess really thinks she can stop the rebellion with her own hands?" she thought.

Noble, but foolish.

Crocodile's plans had been set in motion far too long ago. The desert was hungry, and the hearts of the people were already dried out by lies. Robin knew chaos was inevitable. She merely watched it take shape — like someone watching the tide rise, already standing ankle-deep in saltwater.

She walked the streets with steady steps, ignoring the curious stares of locals and the subtle shadow of Baroque Works agents. Her destination was Rain Dinners — the palace-casino of Sir Crocodile, her current "superior". The word made her smile, a thin, cold smile, laced with truths he didn't even suspect.

"Crocodile still believes he can shape a kingdom with his bare hands… As if the desert obeys anyone."

She didn't care about Alabasta. Or kingdoms, heroes or tyrants.

What moved her was something far older. More deeply rooted.

The Poneglyphs.

The eternal stones carrying the secrets of the Void Century. The very thing the World Government feared above all. She didn't care about who sat on Alabasta's throne — or even who won the rebellion. All of that was noise. Mere smoke screens for something bigger.

The Poneglyphs… now those were worth something.

"The king must be hiding one— beneath the royal tomb… or maybe the lost sanctuary of Erumalu. Possibly even under the palace in Alubarna."

Robin could wait. She could smile, lie, steer the game. Crocodile was useful — for now.

But her thoughts were cut off by murmurs among the agents gathered near the bar.

Mr. 9 was speaking hastily with Miss Monday. Then came a sharper voice — Miss Doublefinger, annoyed: "They beat up Mr. 6 in the middle of the desert! Tourists! They're in the casino now!"

Robin raised an eyebrow, still facing away. Tourists? Beating Baroque Works agents? Her usually dormant curiosity stirred.

Not that she cared about the agents — but it was rare for amateurs to challenge the organization without fear.

Rare… and therefore dangerous.

Intrigued, she made her way to the main hall of Rain Dinners. A cathedral of luxury and decay, filled with roulette tables, cards, dice, and expensive drinks. The clink of chips mixed with the rising stir of scandal at the center of the room.

There they were — caught in yet another disturbance. Staff shouting, customers backing away in panic, chips flying through the air. And in the middle of it all, five unfamiliar figures.

Four women and a man.

The guy was young and annoyingly calm, even as a security guard held him by the collar, accusing him of cheating.

"He's been clearing the table! Ten wins in a row! That's impossible!" the dealer shouted.

"Only for you. I'm the Honored One", the guy replied casually, like it was some kind of inside joke.

Robin stepped closer, gliding through the curious crowd — until her gaze met his.

And for a second… the world seemed to pause. Not from tension — but from a strange, intangible recognition.

It was enough to know he wasn't just another tourist.

The four women around him had striking presences. Two of them — the white-haired one and the one with brunette streaks — looked like warriors. The dark-skinned one carried herself like a leader. The redhead had the vibe of a thinker. And the last one… a hooded girl with eyes like mirrors — there was something unsettling about her. Like an abyss wearing silence as a mask.

Robin crossed her arms, watching them with quiet ease.

Her lips curved into a subtle smile.

"You do know you're in Crocodile's territory, right?"

The tension in the room shattered like glass.

The guy looked right at her — like he'd been expecting her all along.

"As if I care about some overgrown reptile… but you must be the hostess."