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The sea is a treacherous bitch, and I have never hated being proved right more than the moment I realized that the undertow that drowned me really did come out of nowhere just to drag my ass away from shore. How, you ask me at this point, did I know my bitter sarcasm was more than simple railing against my unfortunate circumstances?
The giant glowing sea goddess clad in sea foam and coral tipped me off. A smidge. Just a wee little bit of a hint there.
Terrible and majestic, the Ocean spoke in a voice like the waves crashing against stone. ‘My son will appreciate the help you can provide, Occhio D Vittoria.’
“… eh?” I was understandably suffering a bit of a BSOD in the brain, between the worldview shift required when a technical atheist meets with the divine face to face and the oxygen deprivation. The Ocean then proceeded to slam me headfirst down a whirlpool before I could even get a complete word out, and then pain from the bends set my blood on fire.
Needless to say, I was not in the best frame of mind when I woke up still under the water. “That’s not my fucking name, you salt-soaked whore!”
A rather scandalized clownfish burbled at me in shock, retreating into its anemone. It took me longer than I care to admit to realize that I was actually breathing water rather than using a self-taught diving trick to recycle old air. Hard on the heels of that revelation was the notice that my legs had been replaced with a fishtail. Specifically, I was sporting the iconic ray-finned crimson-and-neon barbs of a Clearfin Lionfish.
“…” I stared for a good long while, trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. This was a situation that called for a witty one-liner. “… Well if I have to be a male-gaze fantasy trope at least I get to be a venomous one.”
… Eh, good enough. I always did have a habit of identifying the benefits of any given situation, and being neurotoxic was a fairly decent defense mechanism when all is said and done. Next step was movement, fairly easy to adapt to given that despite the surface characteristics my tail was still jointed like an aquatic mammalian. This meant I propelled myself with the vertical kick I was familiar with from when I still had legs rather than having to learn how to steer using the lateral movements of an actual fish.
Bonk!
“Mother of fuck!” One hand pressed to my brand new brain injury, I slapped the other one forward to press against the glass wall. Now that I was paying attention to something other than my new meatsuit, I recognized the not-quite-mirror quality of aquarium glass. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking with me.”
I was in a honest-to-goodness fishbowl. What in the name of all that was held sacred did the Ocean think she was doing sticking me in a fucking aquarium? Was this vengeance for the time I let my mother help me clean my fish tank and she accidently boiled my placo?
Holy shit I hope not.
Pressing my face up against the glass I could see… wanted posters. In a… more-than-slightly-familiar printing style. Hm.
My fins flared out in shock as I stared at a wanted poster for Portgas D Rouge. There were other posters, all of them bounties for female pirates. Those, combined with the questionable taste of the statuary bolted to the floor, told me exactly what kind of situation I had ended up in.
I was in One Piece, I was a captive mermaid, and my ‘owner’ had a fetish typical of the series’ stock of minor villains. A perversion that was played up for comedy during the buildup and action events while actually being beyond horrifying when realistically considered. I was trapped inside the glass, and swallowing back the surge of fear made me acutely aware of the pressure of what I presumed was a bomb collar around my neck. I had no resources, no allies, no clue what I was even doing in this world, and no realistic hope of rescue.
I was, in short, completely doomed unless the Ocean decided to take pity and toss a miracle or two my way.
BOOM!
Well, ask and ye shall receive… at least so long as the Ocean Goddess still has a use for me, I suppose. The water in my tank vibrated, the walls of the room outside of it shaking madly as what I assumed was a Grand Line style brawl grew closer. An ugly man, made recognizable to me by his inbred ugliness as a World Noble, flew through the far wall to crash into the memorabilia shrine. The posters and broken pieces of plaster flew up into the air.
I am Canadian to my core, and also a mouthy shit with no shame, so I threw my arms in the air and made like a bullhorn. “GOOOOAAAAALLLL!”
The man dramatically emerging from the smoke in a predatory stalk promptly stumbled as he sputtered. Two smaller bodies shoved around his knees to stare at me curiously. The view was a bit distorted, but it was hard to mistake those two particular children for anyone else.
Blinking, I took in the sight of Portgas D Ace and Monkey D Luffy in all their tiny, childhood glory. For some reason they were dressed in the tattered remains of tropical print sundresses. Which really did not make me feel any better about how they had managed to end up in the same room as my cage. Then I lifted my gaze to the adult accompanying them and felt my eye twitch.
It was an adult version of Ace, tattooed front and back with an elaborate phoenix-and-wave design that I had never managed to draw out quite to my satisfaction. Well, at least if I had to be a victimized minority in One Piece I was in a fix-it AU and now I knew how to create a situation where I could make the most of it.
“Hi, Riot!” I waved cheerfully, hoping against hope that anime physics would come into play and let my voice carry through the glass. “Could you be a dear and get the key to this bomb collar before you completely destroy that asshole’s everything?”
“Hi, Pretty Fish Lady!” Luffy waved back, and oh, look at that. There were den-den mushi installed on either side of the glass for easy communication. That made better sense. “Do you know my big brother?”
“I saw him be born! A real firecracker, your big brother.” Technically I am actually telling the truth, which is great because Luffy is oddly perceptive about things like that. Riot gave me a sharp look, and I winked at him trying to mime holding a crystal ball, hoping he would pick up on the wording and… yeah, there it was. Thank you for your reputation, Madame Sharley, and let us all hope I never get called out on borrowing it.
“Stop right there, pirate scum!” The man who rushed at Riot was dressed in white, and… yep. There was that sand-blasted awful coat with the hideous epaulettes.
Carnage ensued. The glass of my tank got broken as Riot’s fight with the Noble’s Marine bodyguard ramped up, and I had a terrifying flashback to the time my five gallon tank got shoved off the table and broken glass sliced my betta in half. Luck and possible divine intervention allowed everyone involved in the confusion to avoid gaining a serious injury from the glass shards. Ace proved that his pick pocketing skills were still sharp when he rushed over to me with a stupidly elaborate key ring in hand.
Key in lock and turn and yes! Free!
I ripped the collar away from my neck as soon as the clasp popped loose, glaring at the Noble only just managing to pull himself free of the pile of debris Riot had buried him in. He needed to be buried deeper and I needed my fucking legs back!
A lurch, like when your gut drops out from under you on a roller coaster.
“HA! Feet! Score one for maturity!” I am a very mature and poised individual indeed. Ask anyone. I am also really glad for the world building that means despite being a mermaid, as an adult I can have feet whenever I need them. Certain people just really need a good curbstomping, and it is hard to deliver such without heels to slam down into tender places.
I might also have fed the Noble the bomb collar. After arming it. In retrospect, I have no idea how I managed to avoid making a horrid mess of myself when it exploded in his gullet.
… Honestly I think I just got caught up in the moment. Also I have a very low empathy score and a duty to future generations to remove certain bad influences from the gene pool. Especially when said bad influences make creepy comments about small children and their ‘uses’.
Noting that Riot seemed to be finishing up his fight, I grabbed one of the wrap dresses from the wreckage of the armoire and cinched it tight, vowing to change into something with a less tainted providence at the first available opportunity. Then I slung the children over my shoulders like particularly vocal grain sacks and headed for the stairs. Predictably, things started to explode as Riot put the Marine down for good. I was already up on the deck with my wiggling burdens by the time a massive fireball chewed through most of the Noble’s ostentatiously gaudy ship.
Riot emerged from the flames, predictably unscathed, and the Marine was nowhere to be seen. He stared at me, I stared back at him, and Luffy whined into my shoulder blade about me not letting him watch the end of the fight. “You’re a mean Fish Lady.”
“Little fry should not be fighting sharks.” I told the youngest boy even as I tossed Ace at his older counterpart and re-secured Luffy before he could slip free. “Salut, cousin. I appreciate the assist and the chance to get my own back. Although I do hope you have an escape route in mind.”
“My ship is right there.” Riot caught Ace without pausing stride and motioned to where a galleon flying a jolly roger was pulling up broadside to the rapidly burning vessel. The light from the flames made it easy to see Riot frown, his entirely understandable distrust of strangers warring with the reality of the situation I was in when he found me. “… Are you coming along?”
“If you don’t mind the company.” I smiled at him as we began to move towards the pirate ship and pulled the one bounty poster I had made a point of picking up out of my pocket. “It’d be nice to get to know Miss Rouge’s sons.”
Riot flicked another searching look at me while Ace gaped at the picture of his mother. It was probably the first time the kid had seen her face. Hells bells, they were young. I still had a decade on Riot at this point in his life, more than twice that on Ace and Luffy. Still, time to make the most of being the eldest.
“The name’s Occhio D Vittoria, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” … Aw fuck no. That was not my name. The Ocean was still playing silly buggers and I did not appreciate the sudden re-branding at all.
… Oh shit, maybe the D stood for Drowned.
/…/
“I FUCKING DROWNED!!” The sloshed mermaid howls, slamming her empty stein down with a bang as she tilts precariously over the edge of her bar stool. “T’was not my idea of a PLEASURE CRUISE!”
“I BURNED TO DEATH!!” The equally blitzed flame-human shouts back, sparks catching in his hair as his body sways with the violent gesture he makes in order to quaff the rest of his drink. “That not exactly what I call a FUCKDAMNED PICNIC!”
The various onlookers witnessing this particular bonding moment between the Anarchy’s Captain and their new Quartermaster are all very confused.
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