Rainbase
The private hall of Rain Dinners Casino was enveloped in a luxurious dimness. The warm yellow glow from the chandeliers reflected off the wine glasses and the attentive eyes of the agents seated around the table. Silence filled the air, interrupted only by the occasional clinking of glasses and the faint hum of cards being shuffled at a table in the background.
At the center of it all, Miss All Sunday stood tall. Her dark eyes swept across each face, evaluating the posture of every agent with calm authority.
"Congratulations."
The word was spoken softly, yet it carried weight.
"Each of you has fulfilled your roles perfectly. Baroque Works wouldn't exist without agents like you."
Mr. 1 crossed his arms, impassive, his presence as sharp as the blades embedded in his own body. The metallic sheen of his fingers caught the room's light, but he remained silent.
Mr. 2 Bon Clay leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, a playful smile dancing on his lips.
"Ahhh, I love when our talent is recognized! But come on, darling, don't leave me in suspense! What comes next?"
Miss Doublefinger slowly spun her glass between her fingers, her eyes half-closed. The flickering candlelight distorted her reflection in the wine.
"Yes, we're ready. But before we proceed, you seem to have something more to tell us."
Miss Merry Christmas impatiently snapped her fingers.
"If there's something else, spit it out already, girl! I hate beating around the bush!"
Miss All Sunday allowed a faint smile, her dark eyes observing their reactions. Silence lingered for a moment before her voice echoed once more through the hall.
"Before we move on to the final phase, there's something you need to know."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. The agents' expressions hardened. None of them liked surprises. Every person in that room was trained to follow orders without question. But her words carried a different weight.
"You have worked under the command of a name. A symbol. Mr. 0."
Mr. 1 raised an eyebrow, attentive.
Mr. 2 drummed his fingers on the table, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Shishishi! So we're finally meeting our boss? How thrilling!"
Miss Doublefinger stopped spinning her glass. Her breath caught for an instant.
Miss Merry Christmas furrowed her brow, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"Mr. 0? You mean he's going to show himself?"
Mr. 4 chewed his meat slowly, unbothered in appearance, but his gaze was more focused than usual.
Miss All Sunday turned to the large doors at the back of the room. Her stance remained composed.
"It's time to meet the man behind the plan. The true architect of Operation Utopia."
The candles flickered slightly, as if the very air in the room sensed the tension.
Then, the doors opened.
The sound of footsteps was slow, deliberate, echoing against the marble floor. The scent of cigar smoke filled the air before his silhouette was even fully visible.
The corridor's light revealed a long fur-lined coat, an imposing posture, and a lit cigar resting between his fingers.
The room grew heavy.
Miss Doublefinger's eyes widened, her grip tightening around the edge of the table.
Miss Merry Christmas swallowed dryly, her claws instinctively retracting against the wood.
His presence was suffocating.
Mr. 2 blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned, before covering his mouth with both hands.
"Ohhh?! What an unexpected surprise! What a masculine man! What powerful posture!"
Mr. 1's gaze remained sharp, analyzing every detail. But deep down, even he acknowledged the sheer authority emanating from the figure before them.
Sir Crocodile took another step forward. His golden eyes scanned each face at the table, his predatory smile widening slightly as he took in the impact of his presence.
"So these are the agents who will bring Utopia to reality."
His voice was deep, drawn out, like thunder rumbling before a storm.
Miss Merry Christmas lowered her gaze. A shiver ran down her spine.
Miss Doublefinger tried to regain composure, but her breathing was still uneven.
He took another step, stopping beside Miss All Sunday, who remained poised, as if she had been expecting this moment.
She turned slightly, crossing her arms.
"Now that you've met your leader, you know there's no room for failure."
Silence fell over the room.
Crocodile exhaled a slow puff of smoke, surveying the agents with an impassive stare.
"War is at Alabasta's doorstep. The rebels and the royal army are already clashing. Operation Utopia will begin soon."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And each of you will play a crucial role in ensuring this kingdom falls."
The candlelight flickered over the sharp grin that stretched across his lips.
"I hope you're ready."
The silence in the room was broken only by the faint crackling of his burning cigar.
Miss All Sunday stepped forward, pulling four black envelopes from within her cloak. Her fingers slid smoothly over the letters before she distributed them, her demeanor serene but with a hint of hidden amusement in her gaze.
"Each of you will receive direct instructions for the final phase of the operation."
She handed the first envelope to Mr. 1, who took it without hesitation. The paper was thick, sturdy, sealed with a dark wax emblem. His sharp eyes examined the envelope, but he asked nothing.
The second envelope was handed to Mr. 2 Bon Clay, who took it with a curious glint in his eyes. He twirled the envelope between his fingers, smiling.
"Shishishi! Ah, how exciting! Secret orders! I've always wanted to receive something like this!"
Miss Doublefinger received the third, her nails subtly growing as she touched the paper. The wax-sealed emblem gleamed under the dim light of the room. Her heartbeat quickened, but her face remained impassive.
The last was given to Miss Merry Christmas, who pressed her lips together as she held the letter. Her hand was slightly sweaty, but she quickly regained her composure.
Crocodile observed each of them, gauging their reactions.
"Read. Now."
The sharp sound of wax seals breaking echoed through the hall. The rustling of unfolded sheets filled the silence as the agents absorbed the contents.
Mr. 1's eyes scanned the words with no visible reaction. His face was stone, void of emotion. Only his breathing became slightly deeper.
Mr. 2 raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and caution.
"Oh, how marvelous! So dramatic! So dangerous! Ah, this is truly a high-stakes game!"
Miss Doublefinger swallowed dryly, her expression subtly hardening. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper, almost piercing it with their strength.
Miss Merry Christmas read the letter slowly. Her lips curled into a thin line, her dark eyes filled with something that could be fear… or absolute respect.
Crocodile leaned onto the table, his fingers pressing firmly against the polished wood.
"You know what to do."
No one responded immediately.
The candle flames flickered slightly, casting unstable shadows across the hall. The scent of smoke and wine lingered in the air.
Miss All Sunday turned toward the nearest candle and held her letter over the flame. The paper darkened, its edges curling as the words disappeared into the fire.
Without hesitation, Mr. 1 did the same. The paper burned as he watched without flinching, his features rigid as steel.
Mr. 2 smiled, but his hand remained steady as he let his letter be consumed by the flames. The words vanished one by one until nothing remained but ashes.
Miss Doublefinger hesitated for a brief second before following suit. The light reflected in her eyes as the fire devoured the message, turning the words into nothingness.
The last was Miss Merry Christmas. Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the paper over the flame. The fire rose, consuming the letter quickly, as if it were starving.
The ashes fell slowly onto the table.
The silence was absolute.
Crocodile watched, satisfied.
"Now, there's no turning back."
Their eyes met. Each of them understood the weight of those words.
The plan was in motion.
Operation Utopia had already begun.
Then—
BOOM!
The hall trembled.
The chandeliers swayed, the glasses on the table clinked together, and a thin layer of dust fell from the ceiling onto the agents' shoulders.
Crocodile closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply from his cigar before exhaling slowly.
The smoke curled in the air, but his patience had run out.
"Who's making a mess in my casino?"
His voice was low, drawn-out, yet laced with a restrained fury that sent a shiver down Miss Merry Christmas's spine.
Mr. 1 uncrossed his arms slowly, his cold gaze sliding toward the door.
Miss Doublefinger adjusted her hair, but her eyes were sharp, ready to react at the slightest sign of trouble.
Mr. 2 placed both hands over his mouth, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Shishishi! Do we have some unwanted guests?"
Another explosion.
BOOM!
This time, closer.
The very structure of Rain Dinners Casino vibrated slightly, as if something was approaching with force.
The casino guards rushed down the corridor, their muffled shouts reaching the private hall.
Crocodile tapped his cigar against the ashtray with more force than necessary, scattering embers onto the wood.
"This is starting to annoy me."
He stood up slowly, his coat swaying slightly with the motion. His predatory eyes turned to Miss All Sunday.
"Find out who's causing this disturbance."
She didn't move immediately, only offering a slight smile, as if she already knew what was coming.
"As you wish."
Her dark eyes shimmered for a moment before she turned toward the door.
Mr. 1 moved at the same time.
Miss Doublefinger picked up her glass and finished the remaining wine, leaving the empty glass on the table before standing.
Miss Merry Christmas and Mr. 4 exchanged a glance before following together.
Mr. 2 spun on his heels, laughing softly.
"Ahhh, how exciting! Who could have come to play?"
Crocodile did not smile.
He hated interruptions.
And whoever was causing this mess…
Was about to face his wrath.
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Also, don't forget to check out my other fanfic:
Reincarnation in Smallville
A new life, a new Clark Kent — with all the memories of his past life intact.