Lucci Quest [One Piece]

With the wet snap of shattering bone and the gurgles of a just-crafted death rattle, your sparring partner, the nineteenth of this morning, slowly twitches his last upon the floor amidst the dusty beams of light crawling their way through the miniscule windows set high above. Idly inspecting the blood and worse staining your hands, you find yourself sporting a rare show of amusement, wondering just how many purported 'monster pirates' you've executed in the simple course of practice. Ah, a government-sanctioned assassin job title truly carries its perks, particularly when your request to only train via deathmatch is indefinitely rubber stamped. A pity that today's lot doesn't seem to include any devil fruit users-they seem to always make for the best fights.

The brief flare of joy on your face immediately lapses back to your normally dead, analytical lidded gaze as you bend like paper in the wind, a knife meant for your lungs gaining naught but air. A kick as sharp as steel severs the offending limb in a flash-and, as a finisher, you yet again attempt the hidden final move of your martial style, wondering if the narcoleptic and thoroughly grizzled marine hero was telling the truth. You have yet to see said hero of the marines be serious about anything, the Six Styles or otherwise. Were he not possessed of a strength even you acknowledge you couldn't overcome, you'd have no patience for how he incessantly treats you like a child.

Your paired fists, held one above the other, surge out like twin cannon shots-only to stop, just shy of your foe's falling body. For the barest of moments, you see a glimmer of hope in your foes eyes, as if the fool believes you'll show him mercy… a look that dies in an instant as your battle lust, your will to destroy and ravage, your ambition to bring despair to all those that you'd deem foes-ripples and flows past your halted knuckles' scarred surface.

There is a brief… non-sound, a moment where you can feel something fascinatingly beyond your current understanding grace the room with its presence. Then the disarmed man you struck collapses like a puppet whose strings were cut, a fountain of blood exploding from his mouth. As the man's life blood adds yet another layer of death to your form, you exult in the moment, in the raw agony and horror that had painted the onetime pirate's eyes in the moments before his death. Beautifully captivating. ….The moment passing, and with the final partner for your morning spar expended, you march out of the depths of Enies Lobbies great interim jails in all their wrought iron glory, leaving the room riddled with corpses for one of the no doubt terrified gaolers to deal with. Your form of 'cleaning' was never tidy enough to pass marine code, after all: best leave it to the professionals. As if reading your mind, your faithful albino avian companion coos from your shoulder, which you take to be his agreement.

You are Rob Lucci, age seventeen, current and youngest leader of CP9, prodigy in the Six Styles, expert of Life Return, despiser of the weak, mass killer, sadist, murderous dog of the World Government, and you're reasonably sure you just used Haki for the first time.

…Or it was something purely from the Styles-it's possible. Not like air blasts, pressure waves and cutting winds are new things to you… even if this didn't feel like one.

Just to be safe, you owe Garp a fist in the face for claiming, quote, 'A shitty brat like you'd never pull it off!' …An urge, like so many, that must be restrained-primarily because he's not currently here. There are those the World Government would allow you to… remove, amongst their numbers: The Hero Garp is not one of them, even if you could kill the old man-itself, a questionable notion.

You come to a halt in the well-lit hallway of coral blue, ignoring the slowly growing pool of blood beneath you on the tiled gray floor as the ichor coating your form slowly sloughs off all on its own, mind wrapped up in something of an existential quandary. You know you are… not normal. For one, you knew that you enjoyed the concept of hurting others so profoundly that at age six you knew you needed to find an outlet for such urges-it was what led you to join the elite marine training facilities that instruct in the 'Six Superhuman Styles': Paper Arts, Moon Step, Storm Leg, Bullet Finger, Iron Body and Shave. For another, you soaked up instruction on how to control and master your own body where others struggled and failed-you soared past all other students to become declared a master in each of the Six paths so swiftly that many thought it unnatural. You also may have cumulatively murdered a modestly sized nation by now, just in… 'collateral damage' to your targeted assassination work. In short, you are a monstrous master of your own flesh, and effectively live to destroy-which, suffice to say, qualifies as abnormal. Macabre to think about it, you know, but while you can respect strength, you'd likely kill every single insect of a worthless weakling as you encounter, all other things being equal. But it never is: there's always this law or that, and somewhere or other, the World Government will always have a monster big enough to deal with transgressors, no matter the escalation. That's their way of life, that's what you found to… accept the way of life you know as your own. But now that you thought about it….

You play out one of your ventriloquistic farces, straw-manning your white-winged and toy-tie-sporting pet into a devil's advocate.
"Hattori, what do you think: is my prior judgement still sound?"
"Hoo-hoo, I can't say I believe so. You have learned a great many things here that removed more of-"
"My sin."
My weakness
Hattori flaps a wing again, seeking conversation to pantomime-and once more I throw my voice to oblige.
"Well, not like you could take the big names, anyway, hoo!"
The Hero, Vice Admiral Garp your reluctant sometime teacher. The Buddha, Fleet Admiral Sengoku, not to mention Grand Fleet Admiral Kong. The three admirals Blue Pheasant Kuzan, Red Dog Sakazuki and Yellow Ape Borsalino. Possibly others. And that's not even counting the Seven Pirate Warlords they employ. The point, of course, is that you absolutely and utterly respect the strength they all possess-and so bowing to the rules they enforce has not… irked you as much as it could.

You turn to Hattori, a few flakes of drying blood crumbling off your neck as you give him a deadpan regard while providing his dialogue.
"So you used me in another pointless talk just to break the silence? I can't say I approve, hoo."
"I can't disagree."

You finally turn in irritation to the persistent rattle to your right and some hundred feet down the hallway. Just why must that custodial clatter his bucket and mop about so forcefully? Shaking your head as you tirelessly restrain the urge to execute the cringing coward of a weakling, you resume your trek to the showers, and clean up. A particular facet of your current occupation you enjoy: a personally tailored gold-embroidered suit is waiting for you the moment you've cleansed yourself, complete with your favored silk-banded tophat. …While there are many many things about governmental work you dislike, their assistance in introducing you to the wonderful notion of class-by-attire has been rather enjoyable. Kaku and Jabura both like to point out that you look something like a dandy nowadays… and you can't exactly disagree, not that you voiced such a viewpoint. While dressing, you as a matter of course read the letter left within the garments-a brief missive summoning you for a mission assignment. Joy. Well, hopefully it will provide you ample room to have fun, in your way, though you have your doubts.

……

You are quietly seething inside at the madness you just listened to, keeping it hidden behind the ironclad impassive expression you've perfected to hide your murderous impulses.

Before you rests a box that, normally, would be the center of your attention: a devil fruit, a Zoan according to the attached note from Vegapunk, that is simultaneously a commendation, a bribe, and a further hook from the World Government to keep you shackled to their service. And as fascinating as the fruit and the intentions behind it's giving are, it's the mission that was given to you, Kaku, Blueno and Califa that dominates your mind. Having been Cipher Pol 9 leader for little more than a year and a member for four, it's inconceivable to think of a mission, on the drop of a hat, in the timeframe of years: and yet here we are, told to track down some super weapon's schematics in a long-term, no-kill infiltration that could well last a decade. To sit, to languor amongst the pathetic, to restrain and bottle up the urges to purge what you define as sin…

And it's not as if the choices of who goes and who stays makes sense. The issues with Fukuro the fat blabbermouth and Kumadori the gangling albino's appearance for civilian covers doesn't apply: the target group for the infiltration, the famed shipwrights of Water Seven, are known for having particularly eccentric and physically capable workers. While certainly, Kaku and Califa excel at interacting with the masses, and Blueno is always professional… your own inclusion baffles you. Why not send Kumadori instead? Kaku, while not as talented as yourself or as skilled as Jabura, could deal with any conceivable threat during what is no more than a glorified long-term heist, and leave the more… bloody minded members of your organization free to be dispatched for actual work, not this… mockery.

…. Even so, they DO allow you more room to express yourself in the way you desire than any other group… right?

You turn to look at Hattori in your room, seeking council from what you choose not to acknowledge as yourself, your faithful pet happy to play along with your delusion.
"Hoo-hoo, annoying as they can be CP9 are more tolerable than most you've encountered-perhaps the mission won't be as bad as it seems."
"True-they do seem inclined to serve me-but I question if that would persist-"
"In absence of governmental backing, and with a change in targets, hoo: yes, I can't see Kaku, at least, appreciating such a shift, even if Jabura might."
"A sensitive issue, then. I must ponder it carefully."
"Hoo-hoo, well don't you like to sound sophisticated."
"In any event, I… need to think on this."

A night's sleep before the ship to Water Seven gives you your answer:
[X]-This has gone on long enough-time to turn in our resignation personally, and take that weakling Spandam's head for suggesting such a ludicrous mission. So what if that will make escape more complicated, you're Rob Lucci!
[X]-Jabura, at least, understands your plight: and even a single comrade on such a venture could be very beneficial. After all, he is the one that understands you best of your underlings. Start shit in Enies Lobby with the end goal of you and Jabura escaping together, no doubt with more heat on you than if you'd left individually.
[X]-A life of servitude is too shackled for a beast as ravenous as yourself, but you can appreciate discretion: Depart Enies Lobby as scheduled, then kill/incapacitate the other members of CP9 and ditch the boat mid-route to Water 7, and Moon Step off… towards your new life, whatever that may be.
[X]-Perhaps they'll forgive indulgences even on a long-term cover: continue 'appropriating' weaklings as you encounter them as expendable training partners. Surely nothing bad will come of this, and Water Seven's always seeing new travelers.
[X]-Swallow your urges and harden your will: abstain from that which you love in the name of your job.
[X]-Write in!

Also:
[X]-Keep the Devil Fruit un-eaten for now: the money you could raise vending it would be quite useful.
[X]-Eat it: the note mentions it's for a carnivorous Zoan, and the combat boost it gives might be just what you need to avoid potential issue on the way out.
[X]-Feed it to Jabura to watch the fear dance in his eyes just before he explodes One of the above.

 

ROB LUCCI BIO:

Age: 17
Occupation: CP9 Leader
Allegiance: World Government
Bounty: 0 Berri
Devil Fruit: N/A
Traits:Without a doubt, Rob Lucci is a physical genius that soaks up knowledge like a sponge and manipulates his body like a violinist playing their magnum opus. You are not a rough, or raw fighter, but a machine of power and aggression. Indeed, your methods of combat are extremely weighted towards offense, and you can engage in 'melee' combat in both close and mid-range thanks to the methods he's learned. And for every bit as physically talented you are, you are equally cruel and sadistic to those you deem sinful-to those you find weak. Were it not for the fact you can tolerate-and in some cases respect-the strong, it's doubtful you'd ever have been able to live with others at all.

ABILITIES

The Six Styles: In order of proficiency
--Finger Gun: The Style that negates armor and defenses with one's bare hands. Mastered to the point that Lucci's name is effectively synonymous with the technique's use even back at the original training dojos, such is his proficiency. A ship's hull, plate armor, no conventional defense can stop the penetrative force you can produce with a bare-handed thrust. You've gained such skill in the art that you can effectively 'flick' the technique, creating a piercing rival to the cutting Storm Leg that is wholly your own. Naturally, with this comes hands so fierce that you personally doubt few save Whitebeard could actually overpower your grip strength.
--Storm Leg: The style of weaponized air tunnels, vacuums and ranged melee attack. Mastered to the point that despite the style being built for use with the longest and strongest limbs-legs-you can freely perform Storm Leg with your arms, even splitting the produced wind currents to match fingers or toes, if five separate attacks would be more useful than a single concentrated one. While not the style you are most passionately enthusiastic about, you certainly have honed it well: flesh, wood, stone-even steel cannot stop the invisible blades you can produce, should you put enough effort into it.
--Paper Arts: The style of controlled dodging, evasion and reaction. Mastered to the point you can combine it with Life Return to manually control general build, as well as using it's innate evasive ability. Dodging bullets and having the reflexes to keep up with general superhuman combat are yours, through nothing but skill and effort. An art you enjoy largely for its harmony with Life Return, as it allows you to have a far more heavily muscled build than your appearance would suggest, having compressed most of it away.
--Shave: The style of superhuman speed, of attaining acceleration and movement beyond human limits. Mastered to the point that you are certainly the fastest member of CP9, though given your raw might that's hardly surprising. What you're proud of is integrating Moon Step into your use of Shave, to bring the super-speed movement into the sky. The greater options in angles to attack foes is something you relish.
--Moon Step: The style of aerial combat, the foot which steps on air. Well honed and mercilessly efficient, but not exactly an area of personal focus. You can utilize Moon Step with great flexibility, but it's never really been an art of particular passion to you-it's not exactly conducive to the highest speeds of combat you can maintain, not without heavily relying on Shave.
--Iron Body: The style of making one's own body into armor, into a fortress to weather the attacks one faces in superhuman combat. Frankly your worst skill of the six, even if he holds a mastery title in it's use all the same. The only variation off the base style that you use is something that more violently reflects the impact of attacks-and this reversal of the normally wholly defensive style is exactly why you don't favor it. Attacking with overwhelming force is your preference, and blocking just doesn't factor too heavily into it. Certainly, you lack the expertise Jabura possesses in this style.

Life Return: A hermetic bodily function manipulation art introduced to you by Kumadori, who's practiced it for as long as you've known him. It allows one to experience freedom in manipulating general tissues status, such as mass-converting energy to fat, or fat to energy. While there's no question the hair-sculpting kabuki freak Kumadori knows far more uses, you're proud you've wrangled a general body compression technique out of the style: it's let you systematically exceed the limits of how much muscle you can pack on your frame and repeatedly bind it back down-in truth, this is the secret to how you've acquired as much might a you now possess, and at such an age. At best guess, you'd go from slimly muscular and shy of six feet to someone more on a size with Whitebeard if you let it all out-and the great thing is you don't need to, since you can access the majority of your might in the far more nimble and unobtrusive form you passively use.


Physical Power/Doriki: 3,405
Physical Power/Doriki is a scale for measuring raw physical might, speed, and general bodily performance. It does not account for Devil Fruit abilities, nor does it factor Haki or personal size into the equation. As such, it can be treated as a 'Strength' stat. Here's some reference values:
0-5: Preteen child
6-15: Civilian adult
16-30: Marine, soldier or a pirate
31-100: Fishmen, and hulking/strong marines, pirates or soldiers
101-250: People with names and notoriety that focuses on their strength, militant naval officers, pirate captains of note.
251-499: The bruisers of battlefields. Chucking things weighing in excess of a ton like they're a medicine ball, treating most walls as potential doors as a course of habit, and in general being wholly beyond the common man to handle without dastardly luck-all of this is assumed in this range.
500+: The super-humans, the one-man-armies. These are those that have taken pure physical output to such heights they can't really be considered human at all. Shrugging off a cannon to the face, chucking ships around like a juggler, viewing the entire environment, regardless of setting, as deconstructible… those with this much might are watched by the World Government, as those that don't serve them usually become threats.
1,500+: Those with a Doriki this high possess a might comperable to the fabled Giants of Elbaf.
10,000+: You are Oars the Continent Puller reborn.

 

These seem like the best options for our own longevity, quiet, discrete, and it offers us time to prepare for if/when they find out what we've done. I'd like to research the fruit we have before vending it however, we'll get more if we know what we're talking about and it might just be something we'd like to eat ourselves.

 

[X]-A life of servitude is too shackled for a beast as ravenous as yourself, but you can appreciate discretion: Depart Enies Lobby as scheduled, then kill/incapacitate the other members of CP9 and ditch the boat mid-route to Water 7, and Moon Step off… towards your new life, whatever that may be.
[X]-Keep the Devil Fruit un-eaten for now: the money you could raise vending it would be quite useful. (I hate zoans)

 

[X]-Swallow your urges and harden your will: abstain from that which you love in the name of your job.
[X]-Keep the Devil Fruit un-eaten for now: the money you could raise vending it would be quite useful.

I'm voting for this because of one reason and one reason only. I fully expect to lose, but the image in my head of Rob Lucci going for potentially Years without murdering anyone makes me want to Laaaaaugh!

Also, I know almost nothing of the One Piece series after they fight Crocodile, so everything I know of Lucci comes from the wiki.

 

[X] feed the fruit to Kalifa. She needs it more than you.

[X] Murder the occasional pirate crew to pass the time.

[X] Observe your comrades. See how they take to their role and make sure they keep up with their training. They eventually may be open to defection.

 

(x) You and Jabura, out on the open sea, hounded by the World Government... I like it. Very Butch and Sundance.
(x) Kill Spandam on the way out, because fuck Spandam.

Being forced to fight a running battle out of the heart of the World Government's power isn't exactly a downside for Rob 'I kill for fun' Lucci. Hm, although getting Kizaru on your ass would suck. No way Mister Light would hold still long enough for your Haki blow.

 

[X]-A life of servitude is too shackled for a beast as ravenous as yourself, but you can appreciate discretion: Depart Enies Lobby as scheduled, then kill/incapacitate the other members of CP9 and ditch the boat mid-route to Water 7, and Moon Step off… towards your new life, whatever that may be.

While you find yourself somewhat tempted to rope Jabura into your plan (not only is he the next strongest CP9 member, he's also arguably the closest thing to a friend you have), the point remains that your overall decision is firm. Today is the day you depart WG service, and find your own path of carnage to walk.

[X]-But before you leave a couple things….

But first, you have a few things to do, primarily to insure Enies Lobby is too busy to promptly look into an errant vessel. The first thing you do is take a slight vertical detour while exiting the main gates, to alight upon the shoulder of one of the two door guards-Oimo, Kashi, you don't know which, and don't really care. Unsurprisingly, the giant in question who's shoulder you now adorn eyes you skeptically: they could hardly have failed to identify some of the few humans strong enough to be a threat to them that regularly passes them by. With the rumble of an avalanche, a voice as big and booming as the man making it greets you on your new perch.
"Whaddaya want?"
"I've decided it's unfair for two as…. lacking in sin as yourselves to be used by the sinfully weak, just because you are dim-witted."
Unsurprisingly that comment's greeted with a scowl.
"Oy."
"Tell me, warrior of Elbaf: will you agree to a single demand if I give you information regarding both of your captains?"
And just like that the scowl is gone as a sober nod is given.

It has been an open secret and, in some circles of workers at the lobby, a popular joke that the giants, Oimo and Kashi that have guarded these gates since before you were born were duped into it. Told that their service could earn the freedom of their treasured leaders, when neither of the two captains had ever been captured, let alone incarcerated. In short, an empty promise to get free muscle. Normally, the affairs of others don't concern you... but giants have always held, if not a special place, then a collective respect within your heart, for the might so common amongst them, and the spartan mindset they seem to revel in. And today, when you need a distraction, is when you shall pay homage to that way of life, that might….

And set them free.
"My condition is this: you cannot act on the information I give you until the ship I am to depart upon has left the Lobby's waters. Can you abide by that?"
Eyes that finally seem every bit as driven as one would expect of a titanic warrior more than a hundred years old show you naught but resolve amidst the sharp nod you're given.
"The World Government never captured your leaders-they were never jailed. I doubt any of them even know where your captains are."
You see the finger-thick capillaries in the giants eyes and face alike rupture one by one as rage rampages through his visage. Finally, with the other giant only now looking on in interest at his companion's conversational partner, you are given a final comment.
"Just make sure you're out of here soon-I don't know how long either of us can wait, knowing… that"
A sentiment you wholeheartedly endorse: betrayal is hardly something to dawdle over.
"Just know that if you do act too early, I will have to… address your insubordination myself."

My conversation, thankfully, was largely done at that point, for the ever fleet-footed Kaku Moon Steps lightly beside me, his clear, feckless eyes and easy grin voicing the question he refuses to speak. I turn to him with the usual impassive regard I bestow upon my subordinates.
"I find myself reminded that I need to give Spandam something before we can depart: I shall not be long."

[X]-Keep the Devil Fruit un-eaten for now: the money you could raise vending it would be quite useful.
After a pause, I nod, and hand Kaku the small chest containing the Devil Fruit I was given the night prior.
"Stow this on the ship for me, I'll be back shortly."
Kaku, of course, believes you, doesn't question how or why a conversation with a Giant that you initiated could transition to a reminder of Cipher Pol duties, and leaps back to ground level with his usual cavalier grin spreading beneath his dynamic protuberance of a nose. After a glance shows you he, Blueno and Califa all are heading to the ship as scheduled despite your sudden absence, you leap to the sky, stomping on air and propelling yourself as the bird flies directly towards your new commander's office.

You don't even both with doors, or guards or anything like that: Spandam's office sports more than one window, and is foolish enough to leave the Seastone-barred portals open. With a Shave to close the last few dozen feet, you hurtle through the window at speeds beyond the grasp of normal human perception, ambivalent to the fact that Spandam's alone in his office.

The startled jerk he makes that scatters papers from his desk at your sudden appearance, however, is entirely amusing-and makes it just that much harder to hold back your urge to kill him. But still, you wait, and let him think you are still his dog.

He doesn't disappoint.
"L…Lucci! What the hell are you doing in here-didn't I just send you on a mission to Water Seven? Well get going!"
"I find that there is a glaring issue preventing that mission from being completed and thought you needed to be informed."
Unlike his father, a man that actually SERVED as a Cipher Pol agent and worked to purge himself of the sin of weakness, Spandam simply gawks for a moment before spluttering out his reply.
"Wha-well, then what is it!?"

Your left index finger pierces his right lung, your right finger his left, each punching through the expensive clothes he wears like butter, leaving him silently gasping like a fish as he fails to scream. You curl the fingers around the ribs you can feel and continue to watch him as if looking upon an ant about to be stepped on.
"I resign."
Your hands snap back like whips and you Shave yourself several feet back to avoid the gory splatter as you pop his ribcage open like a can of tomato soup, and you allow yourself to smile as you watch the horror and agony in his eyes that slowly lose the luster of life.

…Satisfying.

Taking a quick moment to appraise yourself, you confirm that other than your fingertips you've avoided any undue personal mess-

Just in time to stop the rampaging elephant that was Spandam's sword, Funkfreed, blindly trying to ravage the slayer of its master. Ah yes: Spandam has one of Vegapunk's fascinating Zoan weapons. Even as you drop the weighty behemoth with a few well-placed piercing fingers, you hesitate just a moment before grabbing the sword the elephant reverts to. Just because you have no interest in swordplay does not mean something of this caliber could not be of use. Wasting little time, you dash back out the window, not even a minute having passed since you entered, your new prize in hand. Staying high in the sky, you avoid the potential questions that could arise from being seen carrying your boss's prized weapon, and can't help but smirk at the look of restrained bloodlust in the eyes of the two Giants you finally pass on by.

The ship that is your destination, one of the many transport galleons to the Navy's name, is utterly ready to depart, all three of your subordinates already below-deck and out of the way of the sailors. A happy coincidence: you touch down from your sky-hopping and march onto the ship in silence, ignoring the captain that promptly begins bellowing out orders to get the vessel underway.

…

With Funkfreed propped against the captain's cabin wall beside you, the Zoan entity within still comatose from your ministrations, you can see the fireworks, such as they are, beginning in your wake: the sirens beginning their clarion call even as you see the majestic gates themselves torn down by the very Giants you spoke with, their wrath doled out to all that oppose them.

And here it comes…

Even if you weren't able to see and hear the madness left in your wake, the buzzing of the ship's Den Den Mushi would insure you were contacted: after all, what good is a superhuman hitman squad if you can't use them as a hammer to smash all your problems? The captain receives the call even as you note Kaku, Blueno and Califa all making their way above deck, each of the three poised and ready to take off and Moon Step back towards the trouble spot.

The moment the captain hangs up his snail phone, you strike.

While in theory you should target the most dangerous foe first-that being Kaku-you know how one should prioritize. Middling-CP9 agent or no, Blueno's the only one on board with a Devil Fruit ability-and, consequently, the only one to whom a dip in the sea is a death sentence. A pair of Finger Bullets to his knees followed by a punt kick with all your not-inconsiderable strength behind it leaves him crippled, with a smashed ribcage hurtling off the ship and into the open water that spells certain death for him.

Your mind honed to a razor's edge, you flow like a snake, flinging a barrage of Bullet Fingers at Califa that the frankly pathetic agent can't hope to block. You see one of them open a cartoroid artery: her fate's sealed.

Lastly, you whip a leg in a cracking ark, the Storm Leg blast produced bisecting not only the captain of the ship-but also the Den Den Mushi in his hand, the only communication device on the entire vessel.

In a single second, you're down to the only foe before you that you could even halfway respect, a man possessed of a baffling sense of nobility for a contract killer like yourself: Kaku, whose overlong nose and bright eyes have both contorted in instant rage at your betrayal.

Not a word is spoken as the two of you dance a dance you both know well. In a way, your battle with Kaku is something of an inevitability, something you've always wondered about. Before you joined the training program, Kaku, an older student, WAS the golden child-the one that soaked up techniques, that pushed himself harder than his peers, that grew and learned with a speed called prodigal. It's not incorrect to say that, ability wise, he stands at the same heights as past CP9 leaders, and likely would have ended up with your job, had you not existed.

But that is exactly the rub: you DO exist. And for every iota that Kaku is an honest to god genius at the killing arts….

You are a monster that breathes them.

The slash and flash of Kaku's twin swords are ducked with Paper Arts, and deflected with Iron Body. His Storm Leg attacks, fierce as they may be, are completely locked down by your own. Only a few shallow breaths into your fight with the last obstacle to your freedom, you find yourself becoming aggravated. To be sure, Kaku is talented, and he's purged much sin from his body since his birth…. and yet…

With Herculean digits and the precision of a surgeon, you catch each of his flashing blades between finger and thumb, and with the raw might your speed-oriented foe can't match you wrench his weapons from his hands. With an indescribable sense of melancholy you slash your leg upwards a final time to end the exchange: taking off Kaku's left leg at the knee-

And his left arm at the shoulder.

It's to be expected, you suppose: you've trained with every member of Cipher Pol for years-hundreds of spars, thousands of practice sets, untold hours spent together. While Kaku was certainly strong enough that he could have won, given different circumstances, the fact remains that you both know the other's combat style inside and out-and with such information, victory is assured to the strong, and the strong alone.

In the end, as you watch his bleeding body fall into the water and sink like Blueno, you find yourself wishing he could have been….. more.

Well, what's done is done.

You set to cleaning up the remaining terrified Marines-taking out the trash and painting the ship red, as it were-before claiming the box Kaku had packed away for you, and reclaiming Funkfreed. Thusly carrying a pair of devil fruits, one of which is already eaten, you put a foot on the slowly listing ship's railing… and walk into the sky.


….

…Okay, you've left the madness at Enies Lobby behind, and have seen no signs of pursuers since departing. As of this moment, you're over open water with no ships-or islands-in sight. Not that this bothers you overmuch: you can Moon Step nonstop for more than a day, and are fully mobile enough to reach a nearby island.




The question, of course… is where to go. Hm… where do you last recall the names of note being… Red Dog and Blue Pheasant are both supposed to still be in the New World-you think you heard something about them watching old Whitebeard down at Fishman Island. Kaido the Beast, Big Mom… somewhere in the new world, like normal. Shanks and his crew, the last of the Four Emperors, well, no one's ever really kept track of him for long. You don't really have any idea where he is. Yellow Ape's over at the Impel down-some meeting with Magellan, as you heard. Sengoku as usual should be at Marineford. As far as the Seven Warlords are concerned, you only know about three. Crocodile, as usual, is still indulging in his recent bout of heroism in Alabasta. The newest member, the young lord of Delrossa, Donquixote Doflamingo is, of course, in his home kingdom on the island of the same name. Lastly, Jimbei the fishman is no doubt still at Fishman island, along with Whitebeard and two of the Admirals.

…No, you don't think you'll go to Fishman Island.


[X]-Water Seven: It's the closest, is a major shipping hub, and it's doubtful they'll have figured out the debacle you left behind in time to have a team sent after you. That, and you'll practically be tripping over ships.
[X]-Jaya: It's a den of smugglers, pirates and thieves, and Mock Town is known to be an excellent place to disappear. A man could make a new name for themselves here without much effort-and get a ship.
[X]-Long Ring Long Land: it's nearly as close as Water Seven, and incredibly backwater: a perfect first stop for a man on the run… provided you don't mind the lack of people or facilities.
[X]-Write in Grand Line island and why you'd bother hopping so far.
[X]-Leave the Grand Line: With the World Government's strongest players devoted to the Grand Line in general and the New World in specific, a discrete man would simply… not be where they are. Set out for one of the Blue Seas to begin your life anew. (If this option is picked, we'll have a follow-up choice on which Blue to go to)

 

[X] Water Seven, just for a start. Even we can't Moon Step forever.

From there, I suppose it depends on how Lucci feels about the sin of weakness. In any of the four Blues he could be a king, but surrounded by that weakness he despises... Grand Line is full of badasses, but most of the best ones, the guys we could reach an understanding with, will be after our ass.

 

[X]-Water Seven

Acquiring a really awesome ship doesn't seem like a half bad goal and if anything it'll let us sail around and expand our options for where we can get to, plus a big port town means a place we can learn more about our fruit and sell if it the need arises.

 

Excellent question, since it's so integral to the character and, at least in how we got to see him in canon, not something as thoroughly explained as one would like.

Way I figure it, Lucci, talent or no, is a driven guy. He wants to shave, to pound, to squeeze every last sinful drop of weakness out of himself, and basically be the supreme being Enel delusionally believes himself to be. Lucci wants to have might uncontested and supreme-and, like many young geniuses, has not considered the 'then what' part of that plan. All he knows is, when he feels he has found weakness in himself, he must purge it, or otherwise deal with it.

In other people, Lucci has a single mechanism that allows the weak to not instantly die around him: that is, he respects that it takes TIME to remove weakness, especially when you have a lot. If he sees some guy punching a post until his knuckles bleed, even if he's a limp noodle otherwise, Lucci won't feel inclined to kill him. It's... the acceptance, the comfort in weakness that he sees in so many that really grinds his gears. Seeing those insufferable small minded idiots that complacently sit there, content to not even lift more than their own body weight-content to get out of shape, easily winded, to let their body, their very physical existence, rot. In a very strange way, he thinks he's helping them, as to his mind, what they're doing is far worse than anything he could do to them-so best stop them right quick, and all.

This is often masked by his out and out sadism-Lucci honest to god likes hurting people, causing them to suffer emotionally or otherwise, and in general likes killing things.

The fun internal workings of a mass-murdering teen.

 

[X]-Jaya: It's a den of smugglers, pirates and thieves, and Mock Town is known to be an excellent place to disappear. A man could make a new name for themselves here without much effort-and get a ship.

 

I was mistakenly operating under the assumption that literary graphic violence was also a touchy subject for SB proper, but have recently been informed otherwise. As such I've migrated the quest to the main SB forums, since I intend to largely follow the One Piece format of 'The only romance here is ADVENTURE'... just with it being Lucci version adventure, which is slightly more terminal to those he encounters.

Link:
http://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/lucci-quest-one-piece-death-pokes-for-everyone.251941/